[COLOR=GRAY][CENTER][COLOR=8A9A5B][sup]_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sup][/COLOR][url=https://open.spotify.com/track/4U45aEWtQhrm8A5mxPaFZ7?si=818019f4c57a4aec][img]https://i.imgur.com/YWrjMkU.jpeg[/img][/url][/CENTER][indent][sub][COLOR=8A9A5B][B]Location:[/B][/COLOR][I] Strigidae Dorm[/I] - [I]Dundas Islands, Pacific Ocean[/I][/sub][sup][right][COLOR=8A9A5B][b]Human #5.034:[/b][/COLOR][I] Nothing Left to Burn[/I][/right][/sup][/indent][COLOR=8A9A5B][SUP][sub]_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sub][/SUP][/COLOR][indent][sub][color=8A9A5B][B]Interaction(s):[/B][/COLOR][I] Banjo-[@Hound55][/I][/sub][SUP][RIGHT][COLOR=8A9A5B][b]Previously:[/b][/COLOR][COLOR=GRAY][I] Birds in Their Little Nests Agree & Do You See What I See?[/I][/color][/right][/SUP][/indent][/color] [indent][color=darkgray]As he spoke about family with such detached finality, Harper felt a pang of envy, even a touch of guilt. Here was someone who’d lived without it, without the grounding comfort she’d always felt bound to, and yet…he was here, offering his help as though family were just another distant concept, something unnecessary. There was a resilience in Banjo, a way he navigated his life without needing anyone to fall back on. Harper bit her lip, nodding quietly, more to herself than to him, wondering if she could lean on that same strength again. One built on solitude rather than the tangled safety net of sentimental connections she always felt around her since coming here. She ran her fingers along the wall, letting the solid feel of it ground her as she drifted back into the present, back to her list of what still needed packing. [color=#8a9a5b] “Right…we should be close now anyway,”[/color] she murmured, mentally sorting through what's left. [color=#8a9a5b] “There’s just a couple of things- a few clothes, books…and, um…my sketchpad.”[/color] Her tone faltered slightly, though she tried to brush past it as she thought of the sketchpad’s last whereabouts…whatever it was. She couldn’t even remember when she’d last opened the damn thing. And, honestly, did it matter? Those sketches, those fragments of herself she’d scribbled down in private moments, were practically pieces of a puzzle she no longer needed to assemble. Too much had changed. [color=#8a9a5b]“But that can stay behind.”[/color] It was already in his hands. [color=darkgoldenrod]“So this is you, huh?”[/color] He’d flicked to a page with the girl kneeling before the gentle shoreline, the telltale sound of his fingers turning pages, making it clear to Harper that he’d already found it. [color=darkgoldenrod]“Or how you see y’self, at least…”[/color] Harper’s jaw tightened as she heard the faint rustle of pages turning in Banjo’s hands.[i][color=#8a9a5b]“But that can stay behind.”[/color][/i]...she had barely gotten the words out, and there he was, flipping through her sketches as if he had every right. A prick of irritation rose within her, and she imagined for a moment that if she could still see, she’d have been levelling her most withering glare at him (and still did through her blindfold). In her head, she bit out his nickname [i]Dung Beetle[/i], with a satisfying sting, before stepping into her room through the open door. She heard his low muttering as he continued tumbling through her sketchpad, each comment a casual appraisal of something that felt far too personal to have laid bare. [color=darkgoldenrod]“Etched eyes. Lookin’ forward to the light. Shadows at your back. Rocks on the distant horizon, meanin’ what, either the solid foundation you saw yourself as havin’, or the trials and tribulations you saw yourself as havin’ gone through in the past? Maybe both. Somethin’ like that, yeah. ‘S good. I mean, it would be good, yeah? Ya powers and all.”[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod]“Better’n I could do. Never spent much time on art and such. Found other things to do with my time.”[/color] He chuckled to himself remembering a time he had stuffed three roast chickens in the kiln at one of his schools, for the art teacher to discover later. Harper’s fingers clenched at her sides as she mentally traced the sketch he must have been looking at- the one she’d done before the start of the semester on the beach. It had been one of those rare moments when the world had felt bigger, her place in it smaller, a fleeting feeling she’s tried to capture on paper. [color=darkgoldenrod] “Huh… you draw nature stuff, too?”[/color] He uttered flicking through more pages and coming across a large, detailed drawing of a beetle. Before moving his hand and revealing the name written at the bottom. [color=darkgoldenrod] “Huh.”[/color] He chuckled to himself. [color=darkgoldenrod][sub]“Ya know what? Fair…”[/sub][/color] Harper’s lips almost twitched at the mental image, knowing for sure which sketch he’d come across then. But the humour faded quickly as his words about her powers caught in her mind like a burr. [color=#8a9a5b]“For the record,”[/color] she said, the edge in her voice unmissable, [color=#8a9a5b] “my powers didn’t make me good at this.”[/color] She took a breath, gearing up to make a slow push against the assumptions he seemed all too quick to make. [color=#8a9a5b] “I’d put in hours-[i]months[/i]- just to get the lines right, to understand how to blend light and shadow and make it look good, as if they belonged together. Maybe my vision helps with the details, but the skill? That was mine to build.”[/color] Without waiting for a reply, she continued. [color=#8a9a5b]“Archery’s different, though. That came naturally, like I’d known it all along. But art…”[/color] Her hand drifted to her side, as if tracing the memory of her father guiding her on how to hold a pencil for the first time. [color=#8a9a5b]“Art was something I had to work at, piece by piece.”[/color] His brows raised in curiosity over her response. It was different for him. His powers were too entwined a part of him, and himself. He couldn’t think of one aspect of him, one thing he did well, that wasn’t impacted by his own powers. From anything physical, right through to the mental. It was all part of one big HZE-infused hyper-package. So many things just, sort of came effortlessly to him. All of which he could attribute to them. He’d never considered that someone could take offense to them being some kind of external advantage, to take offense for how they benefited them. He’d had to go without actively ‘juicing’ for a while after the Trials, but if the flow was cut off entirely tomorrow, what would he be? Who would he be? He’d have a great, almost encyclopaedic knowledge of the law in three countries, and numerous states and provinces, but even that had been learned not just due to his own curiosity, but from his own advanced ability to think and absorb the information because of his powers. He put the book down on a table with more care than appeared to have been shown to it before, where it had been thrown in the bottom of a closet. [color=darkgoldenrod]“So you said clothes, right? I’m stickin’ to everythin’ worn over the top, if you don’t mind. Sparky McGee would punch himself through time and space to get at me if he thought I touched your derps, dacks and under-stuff.”[/color] His focus swung back to the task at hand. [color=darkgoldenrod]“Pick a colour for the bottom, and if we keep it to the spectrum you should at least have some sense of what you’re holdin’ if you don’t get help at the other end of wherever you’re goin’. Do you get what I’m sayin’. Like red at the bottom, purple at the top, and sort by type?”[/color] Harper’s brow furrowed, her mind skimming through images of people she knew that the nickname could match, before landing on a disturbing realization: Cass. That’s who he must be referring to. Swallowing hard, she numbly nodded her head at his suggestion before tugging what felt like a shirt from a pile, feeling the soft fabric in her hands which offered little comfort. No matter how she tried to focus on the packing, her thoughts drifted back to him. They hadn’t even talked since that night. She’d replayed that part of the night more times than she cared to admit this week despite everything else, her thoughts a muddle of regret and something sharper-hurt. She hadn’t meant to trigger him; that much was clear. But even as she acknowledged her own misstep, a twinge of resentment stirred. He’d spent that night mainly looking out for Aurora who, as far as she knew, hadn’t needed anyone until much later. He hadn’t even responded to her text. The brunette exhaled, realizing just how deeply his silence had gotten under her skin. But as much as she’d cared, as much as she’d simply desired to just enjoy the stupid event with him, it was clear now that she hadn’t been the villain of that moment. She couldn’t, wouldn’t have been able to take on the load of his past or make sense of emotions he hadn’t invited her into. It wasn’t her job to heal him, just as it wasn’t her responsibility to anticipate every emotional landmine. Cass had his own battles to face, battles he hadn’t even asked her to fight. And maybe-just maybe- she was finally learning that they weren’t hers to win or lose either. As they worked, the room grew quieter, the sounds of rustling clothes and dull thuds of items settling into her duffel becoming a muted backdrop. Harper’s energy had waned with each pass of her hands over clothes, books, and keepsakes, her movements slowing to a rhythm both repetitive and draining. Time seemed to blur, stretching into an unbroken sequence as her belongings gradually took shape into something organized. And yet, her thoughts kept circling back to the sketchbook—the one Banjo had flipped through, the one that now seemed to embody everything she was trying to leave behind. He had been right about one thing: she had been through more than she’d ever been able to fully comprehend. And maybe she was finally beginning to understand that letting go was part of healing just as much as dealing with the anger that came so naturally with it, no matter how daunting it felt. She stopped mid-fold, fingers remaining on the soft fabric of a sweater, feeling its worn threads under her touch. Banjo had already shifted to the other side of the room by then, sorting through the last bit of the books she’d wanted to keep. The space he gave her had, strangely enough, made her come to another realization: she didn’t want it anymore. The constant reminder of the girl who had found it easier to deal with everything bad that had been thrown at her by distancing herself. She didn’t want to be angry, or alone, anymore. [color=#8a9a5b]“Hey Banjo…?”[/color] Harper’s voice was more subdued than she expected, though it still managed to cut through the lull as she turned to face him. [color=#8a9a5b] “Would you… burn it for me? The sketchbook?”[/color] She fidgeted with the sweater in her hands, teeth almost meeting her lips before she stopped them. [color=#8a9a5b]“I just…need it gone.” [/color] He looked back at the tabletop with its scattered array of catalogues - neatness was one of the first victims when the hyperhuman sanctuary’s demise was made public - and the sketchbook that rested atop them all. He went to the kitchen and pulled the rubbish bin out. He swept the paper off the table and doused it with lighter fluid, before setting it ablaze. There was no argument. He made no effort to talk her out of it, and she was almost surprised when the scent of burning paper hit her nose. Just as he was shocked she’d been so eager to take him up on his blurted offer, she held no small amount of surprise at how there was no quibble nor quarrel over her own spontaneous request. But perhaps, like it had been with Calliope, there was more to her teammate than Harper had ever seen. [right][color=#f796a9][i]“…Turns out he’s actually super considerate and sweet and cares about me without expecting me to be perfect.”[/i][/color][/right] She felt Calliope’s presence then, a memory as fragile and fading as the last embers of the fire. His willingness to let her burn this part of herself without asking why or whether she’d regret it hit her in a way she hadn’t expected. The guy was still an utter menace to those around him, a living breathing disaster zone. Still, it [i]was[/i] a comfort to not have to explain herself to anyone for once. As he stood there, watching the bin aflame, Banjo remembered his first week in this place. The action which got him removed from the University Library and re-placed in the Collegiate Library for his community contribution. He’d heard it had been Katja who had to deal with the aftermath then. Heard her complaining and threatening harm to whoever caused it at the time. He was pretty sure she’d never found out who. [color=darkgoldenrod] “I’m gonna take that bin with me, if ya don’t mind, when it's done. I reckon I know just what to do with it.”[/color] He walked over and lifted the duffel, testing its weight. He furrowed his brow as he picked it up and put it down. It wasn’t too heavy for him, but he wasn’t the one who was going to have to– [color=darkgoldenrod]“Are you sure Raw’s gonna be able to jump you wherever you’re all goin’ with all of this?”[/color] She’d assumed too soon. For all the comforting quiet, the unspoken agreement to let things lie, Banjo had a way of surprising her just when she thought she had him somewhat figured out. She tilted her head slightly, half-irritated and half-amused. It wasn’t the kind of question she’d expected from him, not when she’d thought he was just here to help her pack and not question her travel logistics. A dry smile crept onto her face as she replied. [color=#8a9a5b] “I’m more than certain that [i] Raw[/i] can handle anything I throw at her.”[/color] The humour in her voice was real, if a bit muted, and she almost wished that it was the end of it. That she could keep up her light-hearted front. But Harper’s smile slowly faded as she added, [color=#8a9a5b] “It’s not like she’ll be doing it alone. Except…well, she won’t have me.”[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod]“Wait, so you’re goin’ with Haven and Tyler?”[/color] He scratched the back of his head. He wasn’t sure about that. As horrible as it was to think about, he’d quietly thought to himself of the silver linings that would be in Haven going underground without her wings, as much as they meant to her. But a three person party with a wheelchair was more conspicuous to be on the run. Harper felt her shoulders tense. Why was he pushing so hard? Why did he even [i]care[/i]? She considered deflecting entirely at that point, keeping up the pretense of a simple departure with whomever else wasn’t going to the Institute. [color=#8a9a5b] “Haven and Rory don’t need the extra burden. I’m also sure they have their own plans,”[/color] she replied curtly. [color=darkgoldenrod]”Well, if– wait… are you out of your fuckin’ mind?!”[/color] As the cogs clicked into place. She let out a short, dry laugh. [color=#8a9a5b] “I don’t exactly have a line of people volunteering to carry me off to paradise.”[/color] She naturally rolled her eyes behind the fabric over them. [color=darkgoldenrod]“I just gave you [b]TWO[/b]! With no thought on my part! Shit, the Roths would probably take [b]ME[/b] in if they thought I really had no place else to go, and would hate every minute of it! But they’d still probably do it. Because they’re good people.”[/color] None of this made sense to him. [color=#8a9a5b] “Sure, they might take me in, but they’d have to deal with a lot more than they bargained for. With you they would [i]know[/i] what to expect. But with me…I’d just be an additional responsibility.”[/color] Harper grimaced at her choice of words, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear as a distraction. [color=#8a9a5b] “I know there are probably other options, Banjo, but they’re just…not the right ones. Not when I’m like [i] this.[/i]”[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod]“[b]EXACTLY[/b] when you’re like this! ‘When you’re like this’, you mean… umm… when you can’t see shit comin’?”[/color] He paused for rhetorical effect. He had enough shit to worry about over there already. Daedalus. Roommates. Katja. Rollerskatin’ Chlo– Cleo. The Natural Hellscape the place was already bound to be just from what he’d heard. Now this. Harper let out a frustrated groan. Banjo’s persistence, though well-intentioned, felt like fingers prying open a door she’d preferred to keep locked. [color=#8a9a5b] “You don’t get it.”[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod]“Y’r right. I don’t get it.”[/color] He gestured with his palms out. [color=darkgoldenrod] “I lost every reason I had to actually run. Everything. At this point, it would pretty much be selfish of me to do anythin’ different, than try and put a clock on this guy and get him before he can get Haven and anyone else he has his eye on. I ran. Most of my life. It’s not easy to do, even if you’re good at it. Haven hasn’t had to in a while, and others - like Rory - have no experience in doin’ it at all. I don’t know how long they can keep it up when he’s still out there.”[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod]“What [b]I’M[/b] doin’ is crazy. I didn’t need Rory to tell me that, but if he can see it, I don’t know how he thought [b]I’D[/b] have missed it. But it needs doin’, and it's not like I have any good reason to not be doin’ it.”[/color] [color=#8a9a5b]“And you think I don’t have a good reason?”[/color] Harper retorted immediately. [color=#8a9a5b]“I [i]have[/i] to go to the Foundation. I know the risk I’m taking in doing so, trust me. But my vision [i]will[/i] come back. It [i]always[/i] has.”[/color] The last few words left her mouth with a conviction she did not feel all the way through but had to say nonetheless. Otherwise, they would be here all night. And Harper would prefer to get as much rest as possible before her big day tomorrow. He picked up the bin and scooped something off the table. [color=darkgoldenrod]”Well, all things bein’ equal, between your art and your bloody archery, I’d prefer it be your shootin’ that was less dependent on your powers given the current circumstances…”[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod]”I guess, I’ll see you tomorrow. Hopefully by then you’ve come to your bloody senses, whether one-a them’s your vision or not. G’night.”[/color] He pulled the door closed behind him. Harper listened to the sound of his footsteps fading down the hall before eventually walking over and closing her door with a heavy sigh. Come to her senses? Maybe. But for now, this was a choice she’d made alone, one that felt right, even if it didn’t make sense to anyone else. [/color][/indent][hr] [img]https://i.imgur.com/B0qe6B0.jpeg[/img]