I don't want to steal your freedom
you don't have to change your mind
Frankly, nobody has asked him that yet. They either dance around the subject or lend advice, but aside from Sunjata telling him to focus on himself for once, nobody has cared to know whether it’s actually helping. Even inebriated, it makes him paused, flushed cheeks and bright eyes focused on Maea as if seeing her anew.
“It has in some ways,” he finally responds, because he knows he can’t run from his feelings forever. That eventually he will feel the need to fight and struggle against the tides of the world once more, to try and find purpose instead of the haze of forgetfulness. Given how he recalls the worst days of her self-neglect, he thinks maybe she understands perfectly how something destructive can still be a crutch.
Making a little smoochy noise of gratitude at her as she slides the plate over, he plucks a strawberry and pops it into his mouth as he offers her the bottle in his hand, entirely aware she may decline it as he listens attentively (glassy eyes aside). “I didn’t know it was so recent for you,” he admits, a little stunned. How long had she been stone then? How many years has it already been since the war? Glancing down as her hand descends from tapping her horn, he boldly reaches out to touch the back of it, his own fingers calloused and dark with years of tan. “You can feel now, can’t you?” He marvels at how wonderful that must be, only to wince slightly when she opens up so readily about her magic. Harper can’t relate directly, but he can’t imagine what it would be like to lose his shifts.
“Which ones do you miss the most?” A plan begins to form in his mind, intent on fixing this, because all he has been doing recently is ruining things. “Maybe we can find a way for you to experience it the same way, or brainstorm gifts you can ask Dygra for?” He hesitates, his knowledge of Dygra limited, but he knows how much it meant to her back then…“The Old Gods accept her. I don’t know if they would be biased against you, but perhaps you could even pray to Ludo again…?” It’s spoken in a far quieter tone, hesitant to poke and prod at wounds that may still ache
“It has in some ways,” he finally responds, because he knows he can’t run from his feelings forever. That eventually he will feel the need to fight and struggle against the tides of the world once more, to try and find purpose instead of the haze of forgetfulness. Given how he recalls the worst days of her self-neglect, he thinks maybe she understands perfectly how something destructive can still be a crutch.
Making a little smoochy noise of gratitude at her as she slides the plate over, he plucks a strawberry and pops it into his mouth as he offers her the bottle in his hand, entirely aware she may decline it as he listens attentively (glassy eyes aside). “I didn’t know it was so recent for you,” he admits, a little stunned. How long had she been stone then? How many years has it already been since the war? Glancing down as her hand descends from tapping her horn, he boldly reaches out to touch the back of it, his own fingers calloused and dark with years of tan. “You can feel now, can’t you?” He marvels at how wonderful that must be, only to wince slightly when she opens up so readily about her magic. Harper can’t relate directly, but he can’t imagine what it would be like to lose his shifts.
“Which ones do you miss the most?” A plan begins to form in his mind, intent on fixing this, because all he has been doing recently is ruining things. “Maybe we can find a way for you to experience it the same way, or brainstorm gifts you can ask Dygra for?” He hesitates, his knowledge of Dygra limited, but he knows how much it meant to her back then…“The Old Gods accept her. I don’t know if they would be biased against you, but perhaps you could even pray to Ludo again…?” It’s spoken in a far quieter tone, hesitant to poke and prod at wounds that may still ache
I just want to make you love me
so please let me take my time
HARPER
