Here's a riddle for you

With every broken bone, I swear I lived

A winding road meandered out of the Inner Quarter, across the Bone Bridge and off into the hills. It quickly lost it's cobbles and paving, and when the city disappeared behind hedgerows and hills it narrowed into a wheeltrack overgrown with blue grass and wildflowers. Farms dotted the landscape. Houses older than the first war say next to animal sheds and outhouses, and newly harvested fields spread out as far as the eye could see, golden in the stark sunlight. The warmth had gone out of the wind save for a moment at high noon, and tumbleweed accompanied the dust devils on the journey west.

Roughly half a day's walk from the city, any signs of habitation had grown scarce indeed. Trees took over, hedges and brambles thickening while the grooves carved into the soil by countless carts and wagons became harder to discern. On one hill the ruins of a house sat empty, untouched for many years. A flock of wild horses had laid claim to old sheep pasture and where once a garden had been only weeds remained. Yet some things still remained of the past.
On the western slope a large orchard still remained intact. A little wilder than it had been in its prime, the trees had taken to growing as they pleased, while blackberry and roses fought with tall grasses and wildflowers for dominion on the ground. Row upon row of apple and pear climbed the slope, at this season laden with fruit of every color - from palest yellow to striped yellow and gold and green, to deepest red. Big apples, small apples; and all filled the air with their heady enchanting fragrance.

Seated on the front step of the house with her back against the rickety door, Maea had closed her eyes and half dozed in the sunlight. Out of the wind it was pleasantly warm; a blackbird trilled in an overgrown rose bush by the well while a bumblebee kept buzzing around the half-eaten apple in her hand. All was still and quiet - even peaceful - and unusually she felt no need to be on her way anywhere.

She was expecting company any time now; and despite her best intentions a tingle of anticipation kept starting up inside whenever she squinted at the sky. It was noon. He should be here soon.

maea

code by sky

Harper

The journey to the given destination provides an unexpected traipse through the countryside that romances and enchants, drawing Harper's eye hither and tither to soak in the beauty of the season. The autumn sunlight warms his shoulders through the thin t-shirt he wears, dry leaves crunching more plentifully underfoot as he treads further and further away from the inner quarter. He had already memorized the directions ahead of time, so there's little doubt in his navigation, leaving him with only the peacefulness of the afternoon and his own thoughts to occupy him.

Normally, that's a daunting prospect, but the journey is not so long as to allow those darker edges to converge and swallow him whole. Instead there is the brightness of Maea's hair beneath the sunlight to chase it away, reclining against the front door of a dilapidated house in what appeared to be a half-doze.

Harper's steps are always unnaturally silent after years of having it trained into him, so he intentionally scuffs his toes along the cobblestone and crunches over leaves so she might hear him coming well before he's upon her. Hands in his pockets, he smiles warmly at her, though something tired lingers in the corners of his eyes. "I didn't mean to be late enough to have you napping already," he teases lightly, standing at the base of the stairs of the stoop.

I cut my teeth on second-hand sentiments
you can't trust a thing I say

With every broken bone, I swear I lived

Her smile was a slow thing. It grew with the approaching footsteps, despite her best attempt to keep herself in check. Cracking an eye open, she squinted up at Harper when his shadow fell over her. Blocking the sun, crafting a halo of light behind his silhouette. An air of rare calm lay over her, unshaken yet easily undermined by a faint flutter in her belly.

"I can sleep anywhere," she smiled, "and it's been a lot going on lately. You are not late at all." Patting the doorstep beside her, she offered him a seat. "It's good to see you again, Harper. How have you been?"

Not ready to move from her spot just yet, and unwilling to rush headlong into the training, Maea only shifted slightly to make room for him. Honestly, she wouldn't mind just napping in the sun; if she stalled long enough he might linger for another day.

maea

code by sky

Harper

Harper peers down at her newly shadowed face with a smile, pleased to see her own growing beneath his gaze. There is next to no one left in his life to be excited by his presence, and while it makes warmth stir in his empty chest, he knows he has done nothing to deserve it. All the same, he has spent seasons learning the art of selfishness, so when she offers him a seat beside her he takes it on one graceful heel-turn and descent.

Leaning back against the door frame more than the door itself - he's not certain it can bear their combined weight - Harper crosses his ankles and tilts his face toward the sun, eyes closing. "A lot going on as well. Little of it good," he admits, as he had alluded to in his letter. Normally he would not touch upon it, but her words had stuck with him; an offer to remove masks and do away with pretending. The only problem is Harper isn't sure what lies beneath all those layers anymore. He goes to explain more, but his lips part and nothing comes out, words jammed shut in his throat; unused to this vulnerability after a lifetime of wearing his heart on his sleeve. He closes his mouth and swallows hard, opening his eyes to turn his gaze toward Maea with a stilted smile. "But what about you? You look a lot better, if that's not rude to say. What all happened?" She seems healthier, calmer, and he's glad to see it.

I cut my teeth on second-hand sentiments
you can't trust a thing I say

With every broken bone, I swear I lived

Rolling her head over so that she could look at him, bone thunked quietly against moldering wood when a horn connected with the door. Tracing the lines of tension in his face, Maea quietly reached over and nudged Harper's hand with her knuckles. An offer, a question - a wildly unusual thing for her to do these days. She felt the words building up within him, and waited for them to spill over. When he deflected, turning the question onto her, she understood the extent of the weight he made himself carry – because she so often did the same thing.

"It's not rude," she replied, humoring his reticence. "I feel better. Less like running away from anyone who looks at me twice." Her mouth quirked aside, able to recognize humor in it despite it not being very funny. "I went to Torchline for a while, to help rebuild some of the damage. I met some old acquaintances there. Deimos. And Sunjata. We had a talk... It was unpleasant, but I feel better for it. Like I can finally put what happened behind me." That had been the first turning point.

"Honestly, it's been a string of encounters with old friends and new. Isla taught me how to hunt in my shifted form. Tal - the Messenger? - let me come along on his delivery runs. I sparred with Hotaru and Dantalion gave me a job... and you gave me the courage to visit a shine again. I met Dygra. I – I awakened some magic. You were right about that - it really came back!"  

Thinking back across the season and a half, she certainly had filled her days to the brim. Kept busy, kept moving at a breakneck pace.

"It seems like I'm a bit scared of slowing down," she admitted. "Like I might slip up get worse again if I don't have something at hand constantly. But It's honestly been nice to have my hands full." Hence the weariness. And there was still more to it. "Oh - I've been staying on top of the problem with the Void infestation too. Still working on that."

Was there more? Probably, given her mad pacing. She glanced sideways at Harper.

maea

code by sky

Harper

Her quite understanding makes his chest ache, and he turns his hand palm up at the gentle brush of her knuckles, pinky catching at the underside of her own to try and coax it into his as she begins to regale him with a season's worth of changes. It feels better to relax in the sunlight and listen to her voice than to consider his own recent history, and he lets her faint Grounder accent fold around him like unspooling thread that entangles and carries him along the stream of her adventuring like a toy tugboat.

His smile settles and smooths as she continues on, happy for the undeniable upward trajectory of her life despite the bumps and bruises she outlines. "I'm so proud of you," he murmurs, heartfelt, when she finishes - blue eyes bright with it. "I told you it would come, but you found it for yourself. And Dygra - what was she like?" He prods gently, wanting to know more given how integral the goddess has become in his life no matter how unwittingly.

"Once you finally get momentum out of the rut you're in, it can be intimidating, the idea of slowing down," he agrees, lending credence to her fears instead of dismissing them outright. "But now sounds like the perfect time for a bit of slowing down. You have your position, your tasks; external motivators that will keep you moving even if you take some time to just be." He tilts his head toward her with a smile, clearly encouraging her to actually do that. His chest is warm and full on her behalf, glad to see her seizing her third chance at life with both hands the way she always deserved to. Even if he envies her for it at the same time.

I cut my teeth on second-hand sentiments
you can't trust a thing I say

With every broken bone, I swear I lived

Despite the old burn scars the skin of her hand is soft and cool as it slips into his. Braiding their fingers together, Maea turned her eyes to the familiar horizon as she spoke. Harper's praise at the end of the recounting drew bright spots of pink into her cheeks, but for once she did not try to deflect it or object. She had done well, and for quite a while too. Knew it, felt it - was proud too, over the effort she had put into getting back on her feet. Squeezing his fingers, she nodded mutely; too emotional to respond right away, save with a tremulous smile.

"You can take a lot of credit for getting me started," she told him softly when she trusted her voice not to shake, needing him to know how much of a difference he had made. "I might still be hiding away somewhere if you hadn't showed up. So thank you, for showing up."  Shifting in her seat, she leaned over and pressed her shoulders lightly against his. Appreciative, even affectionate in her little gestures.

"Dygra is... warm," she went on, to answer his question. "She was kind, and patient. I never actually saw her, but there was light glowing in the crystals around the shrine, and her presence was immense. I felt her in my bones. Not what I expected, for a goddess who want blood sacrifices." Softly dreaming eyes looked to Harper for his take on that.

maea

code by sky

Harper

Harper had fallen into the depths of debauchery for precisely his touch-starvation, and even something as platonic and childlike as holding Maea's hand helps settle something off-kilter in his chest, making it all the easier to hang on her every word. He's yet to learn how to stop living for other people, how to stop serving them. It's difficult to remind himself, because how could this be wrong? It doesn't feel wrong, and yet he knows his own silence, his need to put her first, is damning - no matter the reasoning.

But right now he just wants to stand in her shadow and try to catch the glow coming off of her, like it might grant him a taste of her success. "I'm glad I was able to help so much," he murmurs, because at the time, it had not felt so grand. He can't conceive of his actions having such large ripples of effect. He speaks it softly, so she might not get distracted, and he can almost feel the weight in his own bones when she speaks so reverently about Dygra.

"Blood and death are as natural as any other cycle older than human morals," he points out, almost scholarly - as if she doesn't live it daily now as an Ancient. "Chaos can be a devastating hurricane, or a riot for justice. Death can be murder or an animal feeding its young. I'm sure most of the hang-ups around her realm are creations of man." Harper shrugs one shoulder, bumping it against hers by proxy. For all he stands for the preservation of life, Harper's own hands are bloodied, and he'd had to come to terms with his sins in his own time. Dygra does not confuse him after so many years of introspection - even if that definition of belonging is entirely personal. "All that matters is how you feel about her." And part of him is relieved, grateful, that Maea has proven herself capable of loving more than just Ludo. He hopes it will bring her greater peace now that she's Ancient.

I cut my teeth on second-hand sentiments
you can't trust a thing I say

With every broken bone, I swear I lived

Now, with her own experiences and a few hunts under the belt, Maea had an easier time of accepting the place of her new goddess within the context of death and life and rebirth. And she knew with more certainty which parts that frightened her, and why.

"Since I always had a tendency towards the dark, death is not so much the issue," she admitted. "It is more... the way it gives free reign to a cruel streak in me. It would be very easy to let the bloodlust become an excuse to cause pain. It doesn't discriminate between a rabbit or a deer or a person; the blood is just blood, and in the heat of the moment I could convince myself that anything is acceptable. And the thing is – Dygra would accept it. Maybe even encourage it."  

Like a slippery slope into madness, with no checks or breaks or cares except for the ones she set up herself.

"There are times. Situations.. where I really don't trust myself to do good, or the right thing."

The scars on her hands was proof enough of what she was capable of. It was a testament to her trust in Harper that she could admit as much... even as one unspoken confession burned in her throat. Longing to be spoken, yet fearing that he wouldn't want to hold her hands again once he knew.

"I – I did something. As an Ascended." The words grew in her throat; choking her into coughing, clinging to Harper's hand like he was a lifeline. Gods, please. She was so tired of being afraid of herself. "I – bit someone without consent."

And there it was. The sunlight warmed her skin, but on the inside Maea felt cold.

maea

code by sky

Harper

Harper listens with ears that have always been empathetic, with a heart that has always been kind. One that has never shied away from darkness and death. "Dygra's morals don't have to be your own. Is there a way to keep yourself sated enough to not court that kind of madness?" Perhaps it would be as slippery a slope as forgetting a meal and finding yourself starving, but Harper doesn't know if her bloodlust is any more or less fickle than that. It would potentially be an eternal source of mitigation for her though, and is that any better?

He's not expecting a confession, but Harper admittedly...doesn't react much. In fact he curls his fingers around hers with renewed strength, giving space to her own horror even if he cannot share in it. "I know biting felt different to Ascended, but it's no more or less a breaking of consent than punching someone, or injuring them with magic," he points out quietly. Harper's eyes slide away - though hers had long since left his - and he tilts his head back against the sun-warmed wood behind them to stare up into the sky.

"I killed two hundred and seventy four people between the ages of nine and fourteen." And while he'd fought with everything he had, resisted at every turn - and eventually got away, when he had never heard of any other survivors - he will always blame himself for not doing more. "And I killed five more before I came to Caido; even after I swore I'd always find a way to neutralize a threat without death." There is nobody to blame but himself for those five, even if he could somehow justify the former deaths. "You can be horrified at yourself if that's what you feel. And it can keep you on the straight and narrow from here on out, to fear yourself." And maybe it would be adequate ammunition to keep her from ever succumbing to sating her bloodlust with a person instead of an animal. "But eventually, lashing your own back only makes you scarred and tired. Makes you not trust yourself. And you can do just as much damage by hesitating." Damage that someone else may suffer instead of herself. Harper would know; it's how he lost the love of his life.

He doesn't want that for Maea. If she feels her hands are bloodied and unworthy of being held, then his are poison, and all he can do is try to warn her of the dangers of doubting herself and holding herself up as unforgivable. While he has the chance - before he scares her away for good.

I cut my teeth on second-hand sentiments
you can't trust a thing I say

With every broken bone, I swear I lived

It was very much a spur of the moment confession. Borderline self-sabotage, like ripping the bandaid before the wound was fully healed so that she wouldn't learn to depend upon it. People made poor foundations to build a life around, and Maea did not want to hurt herself on expecting things that they couldn't give.

But it seemed she had underestimated Harper's ability to  accept her darkness, yet again. Her fingers ached in the strength of his grasp, and her heart bled but it really was her mind that reeled the most over his lack of reaction and the simple fact that he was not drawing away.

And honestly... neither did she. Even though the weight of those lives was unimaginable to her, who had only ever killed once in self preservation, she no more resented Harper than she had Remi, after witnessing his work for Ludo. Oddly enough, all she felt about it was a sort of kinship with the person beside her, and it had her shifting in her seat so that she could lean more fully into Harper's side, her chin coming to rest on his shoulder. Maybe from an attempt to comfort him, or herself, or maybe she was just too starved for closeness to care if it hurt in the long run... It didn't really matter. He was warm, and she was not, and that might be reason enough.

"I always hunt," she replied, sharing with him the only solution she had found as of yet. "Whether I'm hungry or not... I go after small game. It never fully satisfies, but I also never get so ravenous that I lose myself. It has worked so far... but it's like an alcoholic who takes a shot of gin before going to work every day. I can't imagine it won't be harmful in the long run." How long could she endure the constant simmer beneath her skin? How long until she slipped up, or wore her resolve into the ground?

She felt like one of those geysers on the Rainbow road, just before they erupted. Surface smooth and shimmering, even as pressure mounted from beneath. They always erupted in the end, and only those who knew what to look for ever read the signs. Would anyone know to keep their distance when she finally lost it? Would anyone even care to stop her, once she did?

"Do you ever wish someone would hold you accountable for what you've done?" she asked, a quiet murmur close to his ear. "I get so sick of my own hypocrisy... I hated and feared Ascended for what their bites could force people to feel, yet I might be the only one of them who actually assaulted anyone. And I lauded myself on being moral and just but the moment I got hurt, I threw it all to the wind and lashed out, like a petulant child. And instead of leaving myself over to anyone who can actually make me pay for my crimes, I run back here, where no one cares what I do or where I go."

Pale eyes colored with the faintest touch of lavender flicked up to regard Harper's profile. She heard what he was saying, yet it seemed impossible to let herself off the hook, inconcievable to forgive herself for failing her own standards.

"Is there anything you couldn't ever forgive? Where do you draw the line?"

maea

code by sky

Harper

She is not the first to be surprised by his tolerance and acceptance. Many see Harper's genial nature and never think to question any deeper. Unfortunately, even his two lovers had never done so, and it feels good to say it out loud. Maybe this information should have been meant for a relationship deeper than the friendship he has with Maea, but life simply hadn't worked out that way, and he's so tired of hiding it.

Her head on his shoulder is unexpected in the same way she hadn't anticipated him to tighten his fingers around her own. Harper hesitates for all of a moment before tilting his head to the side to lay against her own, mindful of her horns.

"You can only keep doing what works. Only time will tell, right?" Harper sighs, and his breath rustles the moonlight of her hair by her temple. "It's not a good solution and I know that. But all you can do is ask your fellows, or Dygra. Maybe there's a way you can have a warning system? For yourself or even others, like a bracelet that lights up in colors." Harper may have endless ideas to help her, but he has to grapple with the understanding that for all he cares for her and knows her deeply in some ways, he has no idea what kind of life she leads. He doesn't even know where she lives, or what she does these days. How can he possibly impose his own advice upon her?

His thumb relaxes enough to smooth over her finely boned hand, watching the movement of colorful veins beneath the pale flesh as he considers how much he might tell her.

"It was against my will, and because of that, nobody would hold me accountable. I hated them for it. In my eyes, why should my age or consent have mattered?" Each word is a soft murmur that only her closeness allows her to hear, almost intimate with the soft rumble of his undertone. "But then I had Jude. And I realized I could never have blamed him for doing what he had to to survive. That I would never judge the blood on his hands." Harper pulls their joined hands to rest on his thigh, and when he half-closes his eyes, the haze of Maea's hair makes the overgrown road before them seem sunlit and vintage. Safe.

"I've learned that we can have whatever morals we like, but when we're put in life-threatening situations we do anything we can to live. It doesn't mean our morals are wrong or that what we did to survive infringes upon them." Harper shrugs his empty shoulder, knowing she'll feel the way it ripples through them without being able to see it. "What would paying for it now achieve? The only person who could give you atonement is the person you bit. Anything else would be performative, I think." The lash upon the back, just as he'd said earlier. The conversation is so convoluted that he doesn't feel he has room to expand upon the deaths he'd orchestrated willfully, or all that his own hesitation had cost him. So instead, he simply answers her last question.

"From someone else? Intentional, planned murder with no understandable reason for it like revenge. Or murder of a true innocent." It seems so extreme, but Harper knows that the grey area before that line...well, he would forgive it. "I've seen and done too much to not at least listen to the reasoning for anything else."

I cut my teeth on second-hand sentiments
you can't trust a thing I say

With every broken bone, I swear I lived

With the weight of his head pressing down on hers, and the warmth of him bleeding through, Maea felt herself enveloped. His acceptance was as a blanket, soothing and relaxing; nudging herself into the most comfortable position possible she relaxed with a soft sigh. Closed her eyes, and let go of everything except the low rumble of his voice. Her free hand toyed with a fold of his shirt sleeve, rolling it between her fingertips.

"You've been through so much... How you can still be so kind is more than I understand. I admire it, honestly. It seems to me like a far greater strength than avoiding people altogether, like I do." She wasn't exactly wallowing in her own misery, but nor had she done much to try and change, until very recently. "I would like to be more like you... Not so afraid of everything, not so convinced that all people have to offer is pain."

Trying to catch his thumb beneath her own when the trail he drew along her skin grew over sensitive, she contemplated whether she'd had any choice in the misdeeds she had carried out. And perhaps some of them could be the result of the brewing war... but not all of it. Not the hospital fire, and not the fear in the eyes of the girl in the alley. Those were hers to carry. The knowledge that it could have been avoided, but she had done it anyway.

A faint shudder worked its way through her, and entirely on impulse she parted her jaws and bit into Harper's shoulder. Not hard, but enough to be felt. It felt good. She felt bad. She wanted to bite harder.

She hoped he wouldn't let her.

maea

code by sky

Harper

Harper hums softly at the compliment, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. It's a sweet sentiment that he didn't expect from her.

"I tried the avoidant path as well. But I have many more years of facing that kind of darkness; I learned my lessons a lot earlier." He tilts his head to brush his nose against the curve of her head, inhaling her scent passively. "There's nothing wrong with taking your own time to learn what works for you. What outlook you have." They may be of a similar age, but Harper had lost his parents and been thrust into the world of child soldiers and assassinations before he was even double digits in age. It's not a wisdom he would wish upon her.

Instead, he squeezes her hand gently and lets her thumb trap his own like a tame bird. "All I can do is try to show you," he murmurs, breathing against her sun-warm hair. "Prove that people can be good and kind. That they can want good things for you, too." Capable of looking beyond themselves and seeing all that Maea offers, all the good she has in her own heart despite how she struggles.

The bite is unexpected, and Harper stiffens with a whistle between his teeth that might have been a hiss of pain if he hadn't caught it in time. His hand flexes beneath hers. He knows he could pull away if he wanted to, but he doesn't. Instead he looks down at her from an angle, bearing the discomfort as he asks, "Is this what you want to be doing? If it is, you have my consent." And if not, or even if she wants it now but it will awaken her bloodlust, then he will stop her. But he isn't afraid of her, and he isn't afraid of this.

I cut my teeth on second-hand sentiments
you can't trust a thing I say