Harper, for one, quite enjoyed life on the ship.
In fact, he quite enjoyed life in general. Especially considering how life in general was going at the moment.
Oh yeah. Things were going great.
Of course, it had taken a while. There'd been three days of confusion, hurt feelings, uncertainty...three days where smiling was hard, where everything was hard. It didn't help that he had still hoped. That almost made it worse...trying to tell himself to let go, but refusing to because what if, just in case...
Not to mention his ass still hurt from the beating Ondine had distributed. For someone who was supposed to be looking out for him, she certainly didn't hold back with the paddle.
Dorian had been one of the few to notice and care about his funk. In fact, the third day, Dorian had actually tried to tell him jokes to cheer him up. Very stupid jokes...popsicle stick jokes. But Harper had laughed at each one, especially the last one. Just the thought of Dorian trying to be funny was funny. He had mentally approved his friendship with Sadie for the umpteenth time afterwards.
And then, lo and behold. On the fourth day, He emerged. And after that day, Harper had a difficult time NOT grinning like a stupid idiot.
Not that he'd tell anyone why. They had both agreed that this thing between them had to stay secret. Besides, they both had very different circles of friends...Harper didn't even want to know what Kyle might do to him if he found out...he definitely knew the blond would hit him. At the very least.
Still, Harper was happy, even with the arrangement. In fact, it was kind of exciting. Trying to find pockets of time and space to be together, the adrenaline rush whenever they kissed in a location that wasn't entirely hidden away, the tightening in his stomach whenever he stole away to their secret room. And then whenever they were in public...the glances he'd slide to him, small innocent inside remarks that were actually inside jokes to something racier...the semi-flirtatious jests, which he had always done before, to everyone, but were now more prominent than ever, and masked the deeper implications whenever these were targeted at Xabi...yes, it was like a delicious game of tension. Of pushing boundaries. Trying to see what he could get away with before anyone caught on. And then doing something else to completely confuse everyone.
Yes, life on the ship had grown interesting indeed.
Whenever he wasn't teasing Xabi or chatting up his friends, he'd practice his abilities. Already fairly advanced in them, at least compared to some of the other warriors, his practice sessions were less about getting actual results and more on refining the results he did get, as well as amping up the scale. Besides the usual drills that Ondine would put him through, he'd experiment, working on waves, and then shaping the waves. On one stop, about a week after his leg had healed, he'd managed to successfully surf a few of his own creation. In the latter days of their travel, he'd been able to keep up with the ship, the waves rippling and pushing beneath his feet as he skipped and ran across the surface, Ondine diving in and out next to him. His newfound transport usually resulted in rocking the ship more, an unwelcome thing to the seasick.
The storms, when they happened, still proved too much for him to control. One night he had tried to tame the waves, but had nearly fallen off the ship instead. Ondine had grabbed him by the collar, pulling him back from the angry sea and dragging him back under. She had thrown him into a spare room and screamed at him, the angriest he had ever seen her. He hadn't tried it again.
~
When they finally reached land, Harper for one wished he could still stay on the boat. Well, maybe not this boat. But another boat. Just to stay on the ocean...away from other people, free to swim every day. Just him and Xabi on a yacht. Or a little house boat. In the middle of the ocean. A man could dream.
During Haru's "welcome" speech, Harper couldn't help but feel that the guardian was specifically talking to him, especially during the "please do not be a selfish ass" bit. Harper could have snorted. He'd lived in big cities his entire life. If there was one thing he'd learned, it was that people tended not to care if it didn't affect them specifically. If this was New York, he could announce to everyone that they were month warriors, and the worst he'd receive would be a few judgmental glares.
Still, he wasn't very keen on hanging. And after Ondine had pulled him aside to reiterate everything Haru had said (something that the other guardians didn't do with their wards...at least that he noticed) he decided to behave...for now.
Harper actually had been one of the few guardians who had taken on jobs. Granted, they were odd jobs, that never really lasted long, and the whole working thing was mostly Ondine's idea, but he had enjoyed them. Mostly delivery things...a few metalworking gigs...blacksmith assisting and such. Being thrust below the poverty line of his own accord years ago had given him a rude awakening to just how much a dollar was worth, and he was actually quite frugal with his money. For the most part.
As such, he was able to buy his own clothes, and with some guidance from Ondine, settled on an ensemble that looked a cross between
Mozart and a
New World colonist..
"Aren't you getting something for yourself?" he asked Ondine as they returned to the others. She shook her head.
"Eventually," she allowed, but added under her breath, "The fashion of the Rose Kingdom has never been one I fancied, to say it politely."
Travelling to the city was a bit like travelling through time. He felt like he had somehow blue-skidoo-ed into an art history textbook...with the chapters melded together. Sadie, he knew, would love it. She actually knew the different styles. He could see her now, pointing out the Renaissance, Tudor, Rococo...
Ve Marie would have blown her mind for sure.
When they reached the inn, Harper had immediately changed into his new clothes. "I look like I belong in the Met!" he exclaimed to Ondine as he strutted about in his new garb, jacket and all. She didn't look too impressed, but he repeated the joke to everyone at dinner, particularly Dorian, who he knew would appreciate it. At the table he'd channel his inner Amadeus, acting the ever-pompous sort, and whistling small bits of Mozart's various works intermittently throughout dinner. Every so often he'd interrupt people's conversations, an urgent look on his face, only to say that the British were coming.
Although, if you asked him, he would prefer if it were the Spanish who came that night...
~
Surprisingly or not, depending on who you were and what you thought of the curly-haired ruffian, Harper was very well-behaved the next day. Haru had stressed so much on maintaining the best appearances, and Harper knew that he in particular was cause for worry. So, in an act of seeming goodwill (although, in all honesty, it was more out of spite to prove naysayers that he just
chose to act like an uncivilized bum) Harper drew from his roots and acted the perfect upper-class youngun...old enough to be noticed, but too young to actually be taken seriously. When you grew up in Upper Manhattan with a corporate lawyer for a father and an heiress for a mother, with a party every weekend at least, old habits were hard to forget.
As they reached the cathedral, Harper was no longer just Harper. He was Harper C. Fields, who could tell the difference between Armani and Vuitton and took his coffee black, thank you very much. Even Ondine seemed surprised.
Harper couldn't help smirking as he stood in line next to her. "Betcha thought I'd have screwed everything up by now," he whispered to her out of the corner of his mouth.
"It had crossed my mind," she replied quietly, hands folded in front of her dress, loosely fitted and flowing, barely appropriate, but not obnoxious, like some of the other dresses he'd seen in the audience and in line. While her voice was soft, her tone was still sharp as ever.
"Hey now," he murmured with a smile, "When Harper C. Fields needs to clean up, he stands and delivers."
"Careful now," Ondine warned, "You might have spoken too soon."
"Please," Harper said with a shrug, lifting his chin and straightening his shoulders, "I know more about this game than you think."
That was all it was, really. A game. A game of appearances, invisible walls and lines, of dos and do nots, and endless rules. He hated the game, but he knew how to play, and play it well. Haru's advice the previous night? He had lived it. For seventeen years.
When he stepped inside the large structure, it almost felt like home. The home he had run away from.
~
Harper would be lying if he said he wasn't at least a little nervous during the ordeal. His nerves, he would say, were mostly attributed to the fact that everyone else seemed so damned nervous. He could feel it in the air. When Dorian was called to perform, he held his breath the entire time.
There was also the matter of staying focused. More than once he had found himself zoning out, or zoning in too much on a distant pillar. Much as his cool outward demeanor came easily, so to did his old tricks of not being bored out of his mind during the endless and dull dinner parties.
He snapped back to attention when Tallyho stood up. He followed suit. His eyes widened when he watched the Harbinger walk by, holding a small crystal. As the man passed by, Harper couldn't help realizing just how mundane his own stone was. Everyone had had such personal connections and stories with theirs...family heirlooms, prized gifts, personal treasures. Whereas he...he had found the ring in a public pool, the day he'd been whisked away.
To think he'd wanted Sadie to have it...
He tried not to imagine her in his place, standing before an old man with a glowing stone, surrounded by strangers. Well, except for Dorian.
It would have been better if he hadn't kept the ring at all. If he'd dropped it back into the pool, dramatically reenacting the last scene in Titanic...or perhaps Lord of the Rings.
Even if it meant he'd never get to know Dorian, or SKylar, or Xabi.
Well, Dorian he was certain he'd meet eventually regardless. And Skylar too, maybe. But Xabi? He hadn't been with them in the beginning...
The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Talk of the flock brought him back. As collected as he seemed, though, the more he heard of what the flock entailed, the more worried he grew. Yes, he had fought cyclopeans before, but only singularly. And in a contained environment. This was true for all of them. How the hell...
And then this talk of wards of the state? He thought they believed them! What with the glowing stone and...had he missed something while he was zoning out?
His face stayed a mask, albeit a cracking one, as they were ushered outside, Haru assuring everyone to trust him. Right.
If they were going to end up hanged, Harper was going to sue.