[COLOR=GRAY][CENTER][COLOR=8A9A5B][sup]_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sup][/COLOR][url=https://open.spotify.com/track/0OYcEfskah1egYHjYRvbg1?si=e1ae665639fe4832][img]https://i.imgur.com/J2U7cX4.jpeg[/img][/url][/CENTER][indent][sub][COLOR=8A9A5B][B]Location:[/B][/COLOR][I] Strigidae Dorm[/I] - [I] P.R.C.U.[/I][/sub][sup][right][COLOR=8A9A5B][b]Human #5.044:[/b][/COLOR][I] The Prodigal Daughter[/I][/right][/sup][/indent][COLOR=8A9A5B][SUP][sub]_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sub][/SUP][/COLOR][indent][sub][color=8A9A5B][B]Interaction(s):[/B][/COLOR][I] N/A[/I][/sub][SUP][RIGHT][COLOR=8A9A5B][b]Previously:[/b][/COLOR][COLOR=GRAY][I] In the Absence of Light[/I][/color][/right][/SUP][/indent][/color]

[indent][color=#a9a9a9]Her aunt’s voice filled the small, still space of her soon-to-be former dorm room, wrapping around her with a warmth that seeped into corners of Harper’s mind she hadn’t realized, until now, had felt so empty. The faint sounds in the background—the soft clinks and quiet shuffling—painted an image of Barbara moving through the living room, perhaps dusting off the coffee table where Harper used to sit, scribbling out math problems or scribbling lines of history notes. Each sound brought a flood of memories crashing back, carrying her to when she was just a fourteen year old girl. [/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]That house had practically gathered her up, catching each piece of her fragile, broken self, and had pieced her together when she’d felt like little more than shards and edges. [/color]

[color=#ffffff]“Now, I’ve gone and set up the spare room for you already,”[/color][color=#a9a9a9] her aunt Barbara continued, her voice bright with a familiar energy Harper had grown up hearing. [/color][color=#ffffff]“Pulled out that old quilt from the closet and even got John to replace the blinds. He says he wants it ‘just right’ for when you get here. Thought he’d fall off the ladder, the old fool.”[/color][color=#a9a9a9] Her aunt’s chuckle rippled through the phone, filling the silence with an ease that felt like home itself.[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]The scene she described played out in Harper’s mind with a vividness that surprised her. She could see it as clearly as if she were standing in that spare room right now, with the quilt her aunt had stitched together, blinds pulled down to shade her from the bright Southern sun.[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]A space that felt suspended in time, waiting just for her. [/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]Her lips curved into a faint smile, almost without permission, as her thumb traced slow, absent-minded circles over her phone screen. For a moment, it was so easy to let herself sink into that vision, to imagine walking into that familiar warmth, where nothing seemed to ask more of her than just [/color][color=#a9a9a9][i]being[/i][/color][color=#a9a9a9] there.[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]But then, like a shadow cast over that warm picture, a different voice sounded in the back of her mind, interrupting the comforting illusion of choice.[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]Her own voice. Mocking her. [/color]

[color=#8a9a5b][i]“I don’t exactly have a line of people volunteering to carry me off to paradise.”[/i][/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]She’d tossed those words out with a casual bitterness, half-joking, a thin shield thrown up in front of Banjo’s well-meaning questions. But now, as she felt her aunt’s steady, unconditional love radiating through every word, the truth in her own remark stung. Her old home was still there, waiting for her—a place she could return to and, in some ways, lose herself in. Just slip back into the ease of it, the comfort of not having to reach, to strain.[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]And for a moment, she was tempted, almost ready to let herself fall into that safety, that simplicity. But the tug of it felt wrong, didn’t it? 

Just because it was safe, just because it would be easy, didn’t make it the right path for her.[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]Even if her vision came back, Harper would still be, in more ways than one, blind. [/color]

[color=#ffffff]“And your uncle’s been fussin’ about what to do with that old dresser of yours,”[/color][color=#a9a9a9] her aunt went on, her voice dipping into a softer, more reflective tone. [/color][color=#ffffff]“He keeps sayin’ it’s too small for someone ‘bout to start life proper. Thinks you need somethin’ with more drawers, more space. Said maybe he’ll get you one of those tall ones, sturdy as a rock.”[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]Her aunt’s words held more than a casual suggestion about a new piece of furniture. [/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]They were laced with an invitation, a silent hope that reached beyond the phone, like a hand extended in the dark.[/color]

[sub][color=#ffffff][i]“Come home…”[/i][/color][/sub]

[right][sub][i][color=#ffffff]“Settle back in.”[/color][/i][/sub][/right]

[center][sub][color=#ffffff][i]“Let the pieces you left here find their way back to you.”[/i][/color][/sub][/center]

[color=#a9a9a9]And, most of all, [/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]stay a while longer this time. [/color]

[color=#2e2c2c]▅[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]Harper didn’t answer immediately.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]“Harper Rae?”[/color][color=#a9a9a9]her aunt’s voice floated through the phone again. [/color][color=#ffffff]“You still there, sweetheart?”[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]The sound of that name, one she hadn’t heard in so long, pulled her back to the present. [/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]Harper blinked.[/color]

[color=#8a9a5b]“Yeah, yeah, I’m here,” [/color][color=#a9a9a9]she replied, her tone softer than she intended. [/color][color=#8a9a5b]“But…you guys really didn’t have to go through all that trouble.”[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]Her aunt’s laugh brushed off Harper’s protest as if it were the silliest thing she’d ever heard.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]“Trouble? Now, don’t you start on that,”[/color][color=#a9a9a9] she replied. [/color][color=#ffffff]“You know we’ve got nothing but time and love to give—especially for you, dear.”[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]It was the kind of love that didn’t ask for anything in return. No strings attached, no hidden expectations.[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]Just…there. [/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]Harper had once marveled at it, that feeling of belonging given so freely, unconditionally, even though her aunt and uncle weren’t bound to her by blood. They’d taken her in, made her feel whole, like she was enough, just as she was.[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]But maybe that was why, when she’d turned eighteen, she’d felt the pull to leave. The need to forge her own path without those considerate hands always ready to catch her if she stumbled.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]“Besides,” [/color][color=#a9a9a9]her aunt chimed in, [/color][color=#ffffff]“the room needed a little sprucing up anyway. Just imagine, you’ll have everything right there waiting—everything just like it used to be, almost.” [/color]

[color=#8a9a5b]“Yeah…that sounds nice.”[/color][color=#a9a9a9] The words slipped out with a warmth Harper couldn’t quite hide, a small confession wrapped in nostalgia. She could almost feel the weight of the old quilt her aunt had mentioned, smell the faint scent of coffee lingering in the kitchen. It was the kind of safety she’d once taken for granted, a memory she could sink into if only she allowed herself to fall back into that comfort.[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]She took a slow, steadying breath, the kind that kept her from saying too much too quickly.[/color]

[color=#8a9a5b]“Actually… there’s something I need to tell you.” [/color]

[color=#ffffff]“Oh?” [/color][color=#a9a9a9]Her aunt’s voice came through with a subtle strain wrapped in maternal worry—and maybe even a hint of disappointment. It was as if Barbara already knew, sensing the direction of this conversation before Harper had even finished speaking.[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]They’d been down this road before, after all.[/color]

[color=#8a9a5b]“I… I’ve been thinking,” [/color][color=#a9a9a9]Harper continued, letting the words come slowly, carefully, as if shaping them out loud would make her conviction clearer, more real. [/color][color=#8a9a5b]“About what I need right now. And as much as I want to come back… I think I need to try something else first.” [/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]A pause stretched like a wall between them until a sigh from the other end filled it. [/color]

[color=#ffffff]“Oh… well, I can’t say I’m not a little disappointed,” [/color][color=#a9a9a9]Barbara admitted, her tone gentle but laced with an unmistakable resignation. [/color][color=#ffffff]“What changed your mind?”[/color]

[color=#8a9a5b]“I’m… sorry. I know it probably doesn’t make much sense, and I wish I could just—"[/color][color=#a9a9a9] Harper stopped, feeling the urge to retreat, to pull back and tell her aunt what she wanted to hear. [/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]But no, that wasn’t fair—to either of them.[/color]

[color=#8a9a5b]“I wish I could just… let myself come back. But there’s this part of me that feels like… like I’ll never really grow if I don’t do this.”[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]Barbara’s silence filled the line once again, and when she finally spoke her voice seemed to hold the kind of patience that came from a life of nurturing spaces for others to grow.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]“You know,” [/color][color=#a9a9a9]Barbara began gently,[/color][color=#ffffff] “when you left years ago…well, I told John that was just you wanting to find your own way. And it wasn’t easy to see you go, but deep down, I knew it was what you needed.”[/color][color=#a9a9a9] Her tone softened further, like she was peeling back a layer of herself she hadn’t before.[/color][color=#ffffff] “Maybe it’s selfish of me, but having you here, with Sierra off doing her own thing… well, it made this old house feel a little more like family. Gave us something to hold on to, I guess. To work towards.”[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]Harper’s grip tightened on the phone, her throat tightening, too, at the quiet way Barbara’s words reached out to her. It was so subtle, the way her aunt hinted at things Harper knew they’d never really discussed about that quiet living room she was probably sitting in now. [/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]A place that had seen so many years pass in the hopes that someone might come in and fill it with laughter, with footsteps, with family. [/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]She knew, without needing to ask, that her aunt hadn’t filled those rooms just for her sister and her. She’d done it to fill her own life, too, finding a family where she could.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]“But I want you to know,”[/color][color=#a9a9a9] Barbara continued, [/color][color=#ffffff]“that whatever it is you’re after, whatever it is you need to do… I’ll be here, Harper. You go and find your way. Just… make sure you come back when you’re ready.”[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]The depth of her aunt’s words washed over her, filling her with a kind of understanding that left her momentarily speechless. It wasn’t just permission to go; it was a promise. A promise that no matter how far she strayed or how long she took, there would always be a place for her—a home—waiting, whenever she was ready to return. [/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]Pacific Royal had once been that place for her until now. Through all the challenges, her team had been her tether, a second family that gave her a sense of belonging she’d never known she needed. With the university closing and her friends scattered, that foundation had felt as though it had crumbled beneath her feet, leaving her adrift in a world that now seemed fragmented and uncertain.[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]But maybe Harper had been wrong. [/color]

[i][color=#a9a9a9]Home[/color][/i][color=#a9a9a9] wasn’t bound to walls or floors or even the people who moved through them; it was something deeper, something that could exist in more than one place at a time. [/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]It was the steady presence of a hand reaching out, the quiet understanding that no matter where she went or how far she strayed, there’d always be a place to return to.[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]Whether it was in her aunt’s house,[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]whether it was in the fading echoes of this school,[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]or whether it was in the connections she’d fought so hard to build.[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]It didn’t matter.[/color]

[color=#2e2c2c]▅[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]Barbara let out a soft sigh on the other end, a sound woven with relief but tinged with an unmistakable thread of unspoken questions that Harper could feel more than hear.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]“Now, I know you’ve got your own path to follow, being an adult and all,”[/color][color=#a9a9a9] she began carefully, her tone gentle but probing.[/color][color=#ffffff] “But…where exactly are you headed, sweetheart?”[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]Harper had anticipated this moment, had rehearsed her answer more times than she’d admit before calling.[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]But now, with her aunt’s voice carrying a weight that reached across the miles, her practiced words felt as fragile as glass. Speaking them aloud now, she felt a mix of resolution and vulnerability, as though each syllable she spoke etched her chosen path more firmly into place.[/color]

[color=#8a9a5b]“I’m going to the Foundation,”[/color][color=#a9a9a9] Harper replied, [/color][color=#8a9a5b]“It’s…another school for people like me.”[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]Saying it out loud felt both bold and strange.[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]Silence hung on the line, her aunt’s quiet processing almost palpable through the phone. In her mind’s eye, Harper could picture the soft crease of Barbara’s brow, her expression thoughtful, weighing this new revelation about the life her adopted daughter had chosen.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]“All right, honey,” [/color][color=#a9a9a9]Barbara replied at last, her tone a careful blend of pride and the quiet worry she didn’t attempt to mask.[/color][color=#ffffff] “I trust you know what you’re doing. I’ll admit, I don’t know much about this place you’re headed to, but if you believe this is what you need…then I believe in you, too. Just promise me you’ll take care of yourself, all right?”[/color]

[color=#8a9a5b]“I will,” [/color][color=#a9a9a9]Harper promised, the words feeling like a vow rather than a simple answer. Realizing then how much she needed this—this moment, this blessing that felt like a tether to home—she added, [/color][color=#8a9a5b]“And…I’ll come back. When I’m ready. I…”[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]Her voice trailed off. Unsaid but understood. [/color]

[color=#a9a9a9][right][i] I promise[/i][/right] [/color]

[color=#ffffff]“Just don’t be a stranger, Harper Rae,”[/color][color=#a9a9a9] her aunt murmured, her words filled with tenderness, as if sensing the unspoken depths of Harper’s intentions. [/color][color=#ffffff]“We’ll always be here when you are.”[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]Before Harper could respond, a light knock echoed from the door, and she instinctively turned her head toward the sound despite the blindfold that veiled her eyes.[/color]

[color=#8a9a5b]“My friend’s here to walk with me to the ferry,”[/color][color=#a9a9a9] she said softly, the words both an end and a beginning. [/color]

[color=#ffffff]“Alright then, honey,”[/color][color=#a9a9a9] her aunt replied, [/color][color=#ffffff]“Take care of yourself, you hear? And remember—don’t stay gone too long.”[/color]

[color=#8a9a5b]“Will do,” [/color][color=#a9a9a9]Harper replied, a faint smile pulling at her lips. She held the phone to her ear a moment longer, absorbing her aunt’s presence one last time, before letting the phone slip from her ear and ending the call. With a steadying breath, she moved to answer the door, a hesitant smile forming as she opened it.[/color]

[color=#8a9a5b]“Hey, Hayv,” [/color][color=#a9a9a9]she greeted, a touch of warmth and melancholy in her voice. [/color][color=#8a9a5b]“Big day…”[/color][/indent]