*ੈ:heart:⸝⸝
༘⋆
If there was one thing Harrison loved to do, it was to talk about the stars as if they were his kin, and if there was another thing Harrison loved to do, it was to talk about the clouds when there were no stars to be seen and at this hour, stars were quite non-existent for it was a chilly afternoon day where only clouds and the sun blessed the blue sky, and because of that, was Harrison not inclined to talk about the clouds?
He was, for if he had not, then he would not have been Harrison, and if he were not Harrison, then what fun would it be to speak to him? Thus, one should forgive him for his cliched behavior and for his horseplay, for Harrison had been quick to whisper into the ladies ear and to speak to Azucena of the clouds, as if he could hear them speaking to him.
“I think I hear them too.” She had said, following him in his clichés and Harrison was not afraid to admit to himself that it had done something to him and that he had smiled, his eyes soft with affection but his lips wild with mischief. “I think… they say something of a… troublemaker finding treasure? I wonder what that must mean.” The lady had continued, feigning ignorance and Harrison could not help himself but to smile wider. “Is that so?” He had questioned, playing along to their little banter. “Queer,” he had said, “I think I might have heard something similar to that, but I recall that the wind had also said that the treasure was also just another troublemaker.” Harrison hummed. With a tip of his fingers under his chin, he had turned away for a split second, then back to look at Azucena, the corners of lips tugging into an infamous smirk. 'Would you agree with the wind? I’ve been told the wind never lies but perhaps that is a lie too or I simply misheard, what do you say to that?"
Harrison does not know what it is about those questions he asked, but they brought him back a year or two ago. The year where he had met Azucena and where he had been asked by his mother to court her, he kept hurling questions towards her as he danced, hoping to make the conversation interesting and hoping that she was not dull, for it would have been a shame to marry a dull woman. But when they had danced and Azucena had failed to answer him, in the way that he hoped she would, he had been young and thus with his young innocence (or more like foolishness) he had concluded her dull.
But if he had truly concluded that she was dull, then why, one might ask, did he agree to the marriage when he could have simply said that he was not to marry her? Perhaps it was because he had not wished to embarrass her, that though he may be arrogant, he still held kindness within him, or perhaps it was something more, or perhaps it was both, and Harrison thinks it was more of the second with a little bit of the later. He had wanted to see if he had made a mistake and whether he was judging too harshly because, at that time, his heart, body, and soul still belonged to Katrina. So he had feigned a smile as the dance ended, he had kissed the back of her hand, and he told her farewell; he would see her tomorrow, he had told her, because tomorrow he had planned something in his mind that he would not lie to your dearest readers—caught her dullness at the ball.
He had done what he had planned to do—a date with the stars instead of a simple call. He had come later than all the men who had come to visit her for a reason, because he had wanted to come to her during the night, so he had waited for night to come, wasting time through work and strolls in his manor till night came. When night came, he knew that she had not expected him to come, but he had, and he could tell she was surprised. He had bought a bouquet of flowers, customary for their time, and asked her father for permission to take her to the roof. He then turned to her and asked her if she would like to see something on the roof. She had perhaps thought of him as mad, and if she called him mad, then Harrison would have laughed because there was truth to it. But she did not say much to him but agreed, and they had thus then gone to the roof, and her eyes had twinkled. For a moment, time had stopped because her eyes had shunned and her golden hair flickered, and Harrison could not help but admire her beauty. The next day, he found out that she enjoyed writing poetry, and Harrison had not thought of her as dull ever since then, but he had thought of her as shy and introverted instead and usually Harrison did not like that in a lady and if you asked him if he liked that on her he would not know how to answer you. But he put up with it and he had thought it cute some moments and others… he had wished for her to speak more to him and when things ended, Harrison had pitied what could have been but was not and he wondered if she pitied it too.
But enough of that, for they had began their stroll, in search of a free space and Harrison had wished to take her to one of his many private spots, because less people always meant more of the relaxation, so as they strolled, Harrison was headed towards such a place. They had talked through their walk, and talked they did, and Harrison had stopped for some minutes to ask her a question- asking if he was glad it was him and she had told him something along the lines of ‘yes as it could have been worst’ because of that Harrison had of course being inclined to ask of who could be the worst, meaning he had asked her of her foes. She had been hesitant to tell him, stating that she wished not to speak lowly of a man in the case he were a friend of his and Harrison had chuckled at that. “Speak wrongly of them for some of it may hold truth to it, and besides I shall not tell.” he stood in front of her, arms crossed behind his back as he leaned close to her, “I shall not tell that you dared to speak badly of them, for it shall be our dirty little secret.” he teased, hoping to lighten up the mood and get her to open up.
Instead of jumping to tell him who she spoke of, instead she had asked him, “Did I ever tell you of my first love? Or the first before you.” and Harrison ears perked. Tales, he had always loved to hear them and he would especially love to hear her’s, hear who or what was the type of person Azucena was inclined to fall for. He wondered of who the Azucena before him was and how it had shaped her, so Harrison had replied, “No, no you have not.” He was asking her to say more, but perhaps she had not caught the drift so he had added, “Tell me, who are they?”
They had find a resting place, it was close to a body of water and Harrison had relaxed into the grounds, and then sat up straight as he questioned what was it that was behind the contents of her basket as he began to set things apart slowly but slowly. Instead of his eyes going to the delicious foods, he had stared more so at the book- not because Harrison was a book lover (he loved to read, he loved poetry but he would not consider himself that much of a book lover) but because it seemed to mean a lot to her and it seemed filled of things he did not know and if anyone knew one thing about Harrison, one thing that summed up him in simple words, it was that Harrison was a lover of the unknown.
Memories, she had said, they are memories. The little strange things she had put in the basket where memories that she would like to offer my counterpart. She had not said much more than that, instead she had flirted an Harrison had smiled, his hands on the books but his eyes on her. “I would be a fool not to accept such generous gifts.” And a fool would he be, “But it would be troublesome for me to ask, what exactly shall I be wishing on the stars to have.” This was his way of asking her to delve into the specifics she had not wished to delve in. “I shall not judge you,” he continued, putting his hand on top of her’s, he chuckled, “As of course, I am to be judged more than I am to judge anyone else. So do delve into the specifics, mi tesoro, and tell me too if there is something you wish to hear of me. It would not be right, wouldn’t you say, for you to reveal so much and for my lips to be shut.”