I don't want to steal your freedom
you don't have to change your mind
Once upon a time, Harper would have heartily agreed. He also won't admit that even here and now, he may be ignoring those sentiments in favor of trying to kill the man that had felt that way. After so much heartbreak, he had learned his lesson - though perhaps he had gone entirely too far with it all, given how he has barred romance entirely from his life as a result. Never let it be said that Harper did not stick by his word, for better or worse.
But she does not ask, and neither does he. Like two ships in the night, passing through the fog silent and obscured. Wondering, but left with no answers.
"Good night, Maea," he murmurs. And though it takes a few songs for him to feel the tension slowly bleeding out of her body, it still happens. Each increment a measure of success that feeds him plentifully and keeps him awake even as sleep finally begins to take her.
Only when she is fully asleep does he stop brushing his fingers through her hair, half-shifting his eyes to better see her face in the dark. Now, he does not have to hide the turmoil of his expression, or hide the broken twist of his lips as he gently brushes the back of one finger down her cheek. He joins her in sleep eventually, but he sleeps lightly - intentionally so - and rises before she does to slip out of the room and order breakfast and parchment. When she wakes, she will be alone, but there will be a silver platter with covered food still hot and plentiful beneath, and a folded letter that is brief but clearly not hastily written.
Maea,
I hope you slept well. I won't take the credit if you did - at least not publicly. I ordered a bit of everything, I'm sorry I don't know your tastes better.
I didn't want to take up more of your day, so I decided to head out before you woke. I had a wonderful time last night! I'm usually between King's End and the Grounds if you ever want to see my ridiculous juggling again.
Love,
Harper
- Fin <33
But she does not ask, and neither does he. Like two ships in the night, passing through the fog silent and obscured. Wondering, but left with no answers.
"Good night, Maea," he murmurs. And though it takes a few songs for him to feel the tension slowly bleeding out of her body, it still happens. Each increment a measure of success that feeds him plentifully and keeps him awake even as sleep finally begins to take her.
Only when she is fully asleep does he stop brushing his fingers through her hair, half-shifting his eyes to better see her face in the dark. Now, he does not have to hide the turmoil of his expression, or hide the broken twist of his lips as he gently brushes the back of one finger down her cheek. He joins her in sleep eventually, but he sleeps lightly - intentionally so - and rises before she does to slip out of the room and order breakfast and parchment. When she wakes, she will be alone, but there will be a silver platter with covered food still hot and plentiful beneath, and a folded letter that is brief but clearly not hastily written.
Maea,
I hope you slept well. I won't take the credit if you did - at least not publicly. I ordered a bit of everything, I'm sorry I don't know your tastes better.
I didn't want to take up more of your day, so I decided to head out before you woke. I had a wonderful time last night! I'm usually between King's End and the Grounds if you ever want to see my ridiculous juggling again.
Love,
Harper
- Fin <33
I just want to make you love me
so please let me take my time
HARPER
