Harrowheart listens to Steve's initial explanation with the kind of blankness of a man who's hearing a language he doesn't comprehend. Are there words he understands there? Sure. But the concepts behind it all... He hardly gets to ruminate before Steve is speaking once more, and he finds himself listening closely again, trying to catch what it is he doesn't quite understand.
It's Hitler and Nazis and killing – something he thinks he might understand a little more than Christianity and unity in the Holy Spirit – that finally gets him nodding. How easy it is to remember that Steve doesn't come from the same Earth as so many others. He comes from an Earth with war, with hatred, with starvation and poverty. He comes from a world where he lives, essentially, alone. Alone in a society of torment. And he so small, so poor.
Harrowheart begins to nod again. Things seem to be coming together. Community would mean a lot in a world like that, in a body like Steve's, in a lonely life of loss. Equality. Family. 'Children of God.' Now it's making sense. The look of confusion on his face has slowly given way to a sense of understanding that hopefully Steve will recognize without any words needing to be said. He's not sure he can articulate it all regardless.
"It sounds nice," he says, hushed and in the kind of placating tone usually reserved for mourners at funerals. "I don't really think religion's like that on my world. Not any ones I know, anyway. The idea of people bein' equal is..." He laughs humorlessly, almost guiltily. Some people are just better than others on Azeroth. That's the reality. And while one paladin or priest might swear the Light illuminates all souls, he certainly doesn't feel part of the that 'inclusive' majority. It's hard to, when everything about what he is is the antithesis of the Light.
"I'd say I'd try goin' to church with you sometime, but I'd probably melt if I stepped inside." This time his laugh comes with a little honesty, and he pats Steve lightly on the back to cheer him up and rouse him from his grim thoughtfulness. "I had to get all dressed up in layers when I went to that Christian store just in case I bumped into any holy relics on accident. Shoot, you shoulda seen me. I looked like Steve Rogers when Reynard came to town."
Another laugh, this one the most sincere of all, quickly fades away to neutrality and eventually a small, thoughtful frown. He's quiet a while as he watches Steve. Eventually he opens his mouth to say, "Sorry about all'a that stuff that happened with Reynard, by the way. Last winter, y'know. I feel like we kinda never really talked about it. Never really talked about what happened with our bodies, either..."
"You don't hafta go inside to learn. It's about this."
Steve reaches over and pokes Harrow in the chest, right over where his heart would be beating if he were alive. Steve knows logically that Harrow isn't alive and that the rules of good and bad don't always apply the same between worlds.
But Steve also remembers the Winter last year and the body swap between them and Viatorus and Steve knows something truthfully that he'd never waver on.
"We might not always agree on what's right, but you've got a good heart. I don't hold you any ill will from last Winter, and the whole body swap thing brought all three of us closer together. I don't regret a minute of it."
At first it's amusing, Steve poking him like that. When the finger is gone he rubs at the spot as if it hurts, though it surely doesn't. But as Steve keeps talking Harrow finds the half-smile that had formed on his face fading.
A good heart.
His brows come together and his eyes slip away into deep and distant thoughts. It doesn't feel right to let Steve keep believing that... But he isn't sure he has the strength to confront it. He has to skirt the issue, distract from it with a vague nod. There are other things to discuss.
"It did bring us together," he mumbles absently. "I learned a lot about myself. And about you, too. You're a real strong guy, you know that? You put up with a lot more than I ever had to, and you're... You're so much braver about it than I ever could'a been. There's somethin' special about what you're made of, Steve. I just... I ain't sure I'm smart enough to say it right. Maybe it ain't even somethin' you can describe. It's like an aura, man. Like an aura of confidence, determination. It's..."
Something brings a little smile back to his face then. He reaches out and gently returns that poke to Steve's heart. "It's this."
Steve shrugs at Harrowheart even as his friend is poking him back in the chest. It's not right to think of himself as anything special. He didn't even get to pull his own weight like others were doing. "Maybe there's something in the water there."
The joke covers up how much he misses his home. The life he could have had.
He has to remember what this place has given him. The friends, the knowledge, the opportunities he never had. Steve isn't wanting for a roof over his head here. He gets by. Is sick less often.
"Meetin' you guys has been the best thing that's happened to me." He admits quietly. "Thanks for being around, Harrow."
Harrow puts his hand on Steve's shoulder and shakes his head. "Bein' around for you is the least I could do, Steve. And... Just so you know? You're not the only one who'd say meetin' his friends here has been the best thing that ever happened to him." Laughing quietly he adds, "Too bad it had to happen after I died. But that's just how the universe works, ain't it?"
He glances toward the gifts he'd given, then turns back to Steve. "But enough of that sappy shit. I think you mentioned gifts earlier?" He bounces his eyebrows as a smile creeps across his face.
Steve gives his own presents one last extremely touched look while he scrambles to get to his feet and wander over to the little artificial tree he'd decorated for the holiday. The Shieldon gets up from where she'd been dozing and noses two of the packages from the modest pile over to Steve as he approaches and gets a fond headrub for helping a guy out.
"Thanks. Sorry I woke you." He murmurs before carrying both packages over to Harrow.
"Okay so...I made you your gift a while ago but I was shopping the other day and found something I pretty much had to get you."
He hands Harrow the smaller of the two gifts first with a nervous chuckle. Truly a marijuana pipe has never been more tastefully wrapped. It's in it's own little white and gold Christmas box underneath the brown craft paper Steve wraps all of his gifts in, sitting in a pile of snow white tissue paper.
The second present is rectangular and rather thin. Underneath the wrapping is a framed picture done in charcoal of Harrowheart with Viatorus and Steve on either side of him wrapped into a group hug. Steve made sure to capture Harrow's big farm boy grin, the slightly nervous tilt of Viatorus' eyebrows at the physical contact despite clearly happy to be among friends, and his own bony hand gripping the back of Harrowheart's as Steve tries to return the gesture as best he can from the position he's in.
As soon as Harrow gets a look at the pipe he tosses his head back and barks a loud laugh. Then he takes it in his hands, holding it in both open palms while his expression swirls with surprise, joy, and confusion. Never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined Steve would get him something so... So... So perfectly trashy! He nearly picks Steve up and hugs him right there, but then he catches sight of the second gift. He slips the pipe into his shirt pocket for later and gets to unwrapping what he's already sure is bound to be art.
And even though he expected what it would be, he didn't expect this. So much of it is overwhelming. He looks it over inch by inch, his lips parting and his eyebrows twitching as he notices new details here and there. Now and then he steals glances Steve's way, smiling uncertainly as if it's hard to believe that this is his and he gets to keep it.
Eventually he touches it against his better judgement, but the charcoal is safely sealed and isn't damaged in the slightest by the brush of his fingertips. That's when he finally smiles and turns to Steve for good this time.
"I – I don't know what to say, man. It's... I mean, it's gorgeous! You did such a good job, everyone looks..." He glances back at the art and laughs quietly. "Like ourselves." Facing Steve once more he excitedly says, "I've never had art of my own! Shoot, I need someplace to hang it now. I hope Naugus don't mind if I put it up in his castle a while. Hell, I'm gonna be lookin' at this forever..."
And, indeed, he gets back to looking at it. The joy of art is one which never ends, but is periodically revisited.
Just because Steve Rogers can't have the stuff, doesn't mean he doesn't know what it is. Or how much Harrowheart enjoys America and every tacky decoration and shirt he can find.
"I thought you'd like that."
It's a wry smile he gives Harrow, but it's one that turns softer when Harrow opens the picture. Steve spent a lot of time thinking about what he was grateful for this year, and the friendship he has with these two stood out above and beyond. He's wanted to draw something like this for a while. Hopes Harrow understands how much their friendship means to Steve.
"Well, it'll last for a while hanging up somewhere, not to worry."
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It's Hitler and Nazis and killing – something he thinks he might understand a little more than Christianity and unity in the Holy Spirit – that finally gets him nodding. How easy it is to remember that Steve doesn't come from the same Earth as so many others. He comes from an Earth with war, with hatred, with starvation and poverty. He comes from a world where he lives, essentially, alone. Alone in a society of torment. And he so small, so poor.
Harrowheart begins to nod again. Things seem to be coming together. Community would mean a lot in a world like that, in a body like Steve's, in a lonely life of loss. Equality. Family. 'Children of God.' Now it's making sense. The look of confusion on his face has slowly given way to a sense of understanding that hopefully Steve will recognize without any words needing to be said. He's not sure he can articulate it all regardless.
"It sounds nice," he says, hushed and in the kind of placating tone usually reserved for mourners at funerals. "I don't really think religion's like that on my world. Not any ones I know, anyway. The idea of people bein' equal is..." He laughs humorlessly, almost guiltily. Some people are just better than others on Azeroth. That's the reality. And while one paladin or priest might swear the Light illuminates all souls, he certainly doesn't feel part of the that 'inclusive' majority. It's hard to, when everything about what he is is the antithesis of the Light.
"I'd say I'd try goin' to church with you sometime, but I'd probably melt if I stepped inside." This time his laugh comes with a little honesty, and he pats Steve lightly on the back to cheer him up and rouse him from his grim thoughtfulness. "I had to get all dressed up in layers when I went to that Christian store just in case I bumped into any holy relics on accident. Shoot, you shoulda seen me. I looked like Steve Rogers when Reynard came to town."
Another laugh, this one the most sincere of all, quickly fades away to neutrality and eventually a small, thoughtful frown. He's quiet a while as he watches Steve. Eventually he opens his mouth to say, "Sorry about all'a that stuff that happened with Reynard, by the way. Last winter, y'know. I feel like we kinda never really talked about it. Never really talked about what happened with our bodies, either..."
no subject
Steve reaches over and pokes Harrow in the chest, right over where his heart would be beating if he were alive. Steve knows logically that Harrow isn't alive and that the rules of good and bad don't always apply the same between worlds.
But Steve also remembers the Winter last year and the body swap between them and Viatorus and Steve knows something truthfully that he'd never waver on.
"We might not always agree on what's right, but you've got a good heart. I don't hold you any ill will from last Winter, and the whole body swap thing brought all three of us closer together. I don't regret a minute of it."
no subject
A good heart.
His brows come together and his eyes slip away into deep and distant thoughts. It doesn't feel right to let Steve keep believing that... But he isn't sure he has the strength to confront it. He has to skirt the issue, distract from it with a vague nod. There are other things to discuss.
"It did bring us together," he mumbles absently. "I learned a lot about myself. And about you, too. You're a real strong guy, you know that? You put up with a lot more than I ever had to, and you're... You're so much braver about it than I ever could'a been. There's somethin' special about what you're made of, Steve. I just... I ain't sure I'm smart enough to say it right. Maybe it ain't even somethin' you can describe. It's like an aura, man. Like an aura of confidence, determination. It's..."
Something brings a little smile back to his face then. He reaches out and gently returns that poke to Steve's heart. "It's this."
no subject
Steve shrugs at Harrowheart even as his friend is poking him back in the chest. It's not right to think of himself as anything special. He didn't even get to pull his own weight like others were doing. "Maybe there's something in the water there."
The joke covers up how much he misses his home. The life he could have had.
He has to remember what this place has given him. The friends, the knowledge, the opportunities he never had. Steve isn't wanting for a roof over his head here. He gets by. Is sick less often.
"Meetin' you guys has been the best thing that's happened to me." He admits quietly. "Thanks for being around, Harrow."
no subject
He glances toward the gifts he'd given, then turns back to Steve. "But enough of that sappy shit. I think you mentioned gifts earlier?" He bounces his eyebrows as a smile creeps across his face.
no subject
Steve gives his own presents one last extremely touched look while he scrambles to get to his feet and wander over to the little artificial tree he'd decorated for the holiday. The Shieldon gets up from where she'd been dozing and noses two of the packages from the modest pile over to Steve as he approaches and gets a fond headrub for helping a guy out.
"Thanks. Sorry I woke you." He murmurs before carrying both packages over to Harrow.
"Okay so...I made you your gift a while ago but I was shopping the other day and found something I pretty much had to get you."
He hands Harrow the smaller of the two gifts first with a nervous chuckle. Truly a marijuana pipe has never been more tastefully wrapped. It's in it's own little white and gold Christmas box underneath the brown craft paper Steve wraps all of his gifts in, sitting in a pile of snow white tissue paper.
The second present is rectangular and rather thin. Underneath the wrapping is a framed picture done in charcoal of Harrowheart with Viatorus and Steve on either side of him wrapped into a group hug. Steve made sure to capture Harrow's big farm boy grin, the slightly nervous tilt of Viatorus' eyebrows at the physical contact despite clearly happy to be among friends, and his own bony hand gripping the back of Harrowheart's as Steve tries to return the gesture as best he can from the position he's in.
"Merry Christmas, Harrow."
no subject
And even though he expected what it would be, he didn't expect this. So much of it is overwhelming. He looks it over inch by inch, his lips parting and his eyebrows twitching as he notices new details here and there. Now and then he steals glances Steve's way, smiling uncertainly as if it's hard to believe that this is his and he gets to keep it.
Eventually he touches it against his better judgement, but the charcoal is safely sealed and isn't damaged in the slightest by the brush of his fingertips. That's when he finally smiles and turns to Steve for good this time.
"I – I don't know what to say, man. It's... I mean, it's gorgeous! You did such a good job, everyone looks..." He glances back at the art and laughs quietly. "Like ourselves." Facing Steve once more he excitedly says, "I've never had art of my own! Shoot, I need someplace to hang it now. I hope Naugus don't mind if I put it up in his castle a while. Hell, I'm gonna be lookin' at this forever..."
And, indeed, he gets back to looking at it. The joy of art is one which never ends, but is periodically revisited.
no subject
"I thought you'd like that."
It's a wry smile he gives Harrow, but it's one that turns softer when Harrow opens the picture. Steve spent a lot of time thinking about what he was grateful for this year, and the friendship he has with these two stood out above and beyond. He's wanted to draw something like this for a while. Hopes Harrow understands how much their friendship means to Steve.
"Well, it'll last for a while hanging up somewhere, not to worry."