I don't want to steal your freedom
you don't have to change your mind
He had kept her secret eternally. Even now nobody knows who truly burned down the clinic that night. Her scars don't scare him. Even standing against the Voice before the war, even the thought of her biting him had not scared him. He fears even less these days, with how far removed he is from the world, but the only thing that has come close is wondering when she will lose the fight against her own crushing self-worth.
"I don't think that's hard to understand. It’s how I feel about my shifts." Inky black feathers sprout down his arm and over his knuckles. which he uses to gently trace her palm with instead. Whether it is a byproduct of an entire season of only knowing flirtation or some attempt to provide her even more sensations to make up for the time she'd been without them, well - he doesn't think about it honestly. The color difference against her skin is mesmerizing enough to entertain him without examining his own behavior.
Catching her looking, Harper retrieves his left hand to show where the ring sits on his forefinger, the only one he wears anymore despite the fading line at the base of his knuckle where years of wearing his wedding ring in Torchline had left a mark. One that he wants to disappear, but the downpour in the Grounds hasn't been helpful in that endeavor. As her frustration mounts and she squeezes his hand, Harper intertwines their fingers shamelessly and squeezes back as he looks intensely into her eyes.
"Who cares what everyone else's reasoning is? If it makes you feel better, if it makes you want to live for once. then do it. Ask for it." His ferocity is clearly a personal echo, but Harper has also seen Maea on the edge so many times that if anything could pull her back, he would jump for it. "Ask for a wand that makes endless bubbles, or shoes that play music when you dance, or a ring that makes you breathe underwater instead so you can sit in it for hours." Silly, meaningless, useless to everyone else. Serious, meaningful, necessary for broken people like them. "All those people out there? The general masses? They don't deserve your fealty, and they don’t need it. Your first loyalty should be to yourself; gods know you deserve it, Maea." And Harper has only just started figuring that out for himself these days. Selfishness is only seen that way by outsiders with no clue what you're going through, and they can keep their thoughts to themselves it they won't lift a finger to help.
He slumps backward, taken aback by his own ferocity and equally gutted by the wording of her question. Finally averting his eyes for the first time Harper frowns out at the crowd, gaze distant. "Partly. Phoebe disappeared time and time again. I moved on tried to love again - only for the same to happen with someone I saw as my best friend. And I was asked to forgive and understand over and over and over." His face twists with grief and anger, because he had done so endlessly, and where had it gotten him? "I ruled Torchline briefly. But I was miserable. I only ever moved there for love, and I had lost love for everything on her sands, including myself." Harper hasn't spoken it so plainly to anyone so far, and he withdraws slightly into himself, guilt chasing on his heels as time ticks by and sobriety creeps in. He takes a swig from the flask to preemptively chase it away once more. “All I regret is that I left my sons, though they’re old enough now to make their own way. And now I’m here - winning the title for biggest disappointment,” he jokes darkly, winking at her and pulling his hand away from hers as if punishing himself.
"I don't think that's hard to understand. It’s how I feel about my shifts." Inky black feathers sprout down his arm and over his knuckles. which he uses to gently trace her palm with instead. Whether it is a byproduct of an entire season of only knowing flirtation or some attempt to provide her even more sensations to make up for the time she'd been without them, well - he doesn't think about it honestly. The color difference against her skin is mesmerizing enough to entertain him without examining his own behavior.
Catching her looking, Harper retrieves his left hand to show where the ring sits on his forefinger, the only one he wears anymore despite the fading line at the base of his knuckle where years of wearing his wedding ring in Torchline had left a mark. One that he wants to disappear, but the downpour in the Grounds hasn't been helpful in that endeavor. As her frustration mounts and she squeezes his hand, Harper intertwines their fingers shamelessly and squeezes back as he looks intensely into her eyes.
"Who cares what everyone else's reasoning is? If it makes you feel better, if it makes you want to live for once. then do it. Ask for it." His ferocity is clearly a personal echo, but Harper has also seen Maea on the edge so many times that if anything could pull her back, he would jump for it. "Ask for a wand that makes endless bubbles, or shoes that play music when you dance, or a ring that makes you breathe underwater instead so you can sit in it for hours." Silly, meaningless, useless to everyone else. Serious, meaningful, necessary for broken people like them. "All those people out there? The general masses? They don't deserve your fealty, and they don’t need it. Your first loyalty should be to yourself; gods know you deserve it, Maea." And Harper has only just started figuring that out for himself these days. Selfishness is only seen that way by outsiders with no clue what you're going through, and they can keep their thoughts to themselves it they won't lift a finger to help.
He slumps backward, taken aback by his own ferocity and equally gutted by the wording of her question. Finally averting his eyes for the first time Harper frowns out at the crowd, gaze distant. "Partly. Phoebe disappeared time and time again. I moved on tried to love again - only for the same to happen with someone I saw as my best friend. And I was asked to forgive and understand over and over and over." His face twists with grief and anger, because he had done so endlessly, and where had it gotten him? "I ruled Torchline briefly. But I was miserable. I only ever moved there for love, and I had lost love for everything on her sands, including myself." Harper hasn't spoken it so plainly to anyone so far, and he withdraws slightly into himself, guilt chasing on his heels as time ticks by and sobriety creeps in. He takes a swig from the flask to preemptively chase it away once more. “All I regret is that I left my sons, though they’re old enough now to make their own way. And now I’m here - winning the title for biggest disappointment,” he jokes darkly, winking at her and pulling his hand away from hers as if punishing himself.
I just want to make you love me
so please let me take my time
HARPER
