Peaceful Easy Feeling || Self Para

‘Cause I got a peaceful easy feeling,
And I know you won’t let me down
‘cause I’m already standing on the ground.

Who: Harry Styles & Trick McCorrigan
When: Thursday Evening (May 30th)
Where: The Dal/Trick’s Study
Note: I have permission from Nathin to write for Trick for this particular para. He has read over this already and given his approval. Decided to format this properly so I could specify that because of the God Modding rules in the RPG.

Harry’s fingertips danced across the spines of the books that decorated every nook and cranny of Trick’s study. He didn’t do much reading, and even less when they were touring. Between press, publicity, and music, he just didn’t find the time for that. But he always seemed to find time to make his way into the little room beneath the Dal that Trick had granted him access to several months back.

He could still remember the first time he had come down here looking through the books, he had learned about La Shoshain one of those nights as he tried to avoid his own loneliness from being stuck in a city that he was then still unfamiliar with without his band - his best friends.

Long nights spent with Harry just absorbing everything in the books as if he had never seen written word before. He couldn’t get enough of the knowledge that those books had provided, and Trick made for good company back in those days when he didn’t have that many friends around that he could trust.  He’d had his own apartment, but staying by himself never really appealed to Harry much, which was why he had found himself here night after night; day after day.

He could remember vividly the first night he had come across the festival in one of the musky old books. His finger had been trailing along the page slowly, tracing the lines under every word as he soaked it in. Suddenly though, a realization hit him.

“Hey Trick?” He had broken the silence and had to stifle a laugh when the old man jumped started, which prompted Harry to flash an apologetic smile. “Sorry. You were the Blood King, right?”

“Still am. I just refuse to reign. Yes, why?” He had answered, turning in his chair to face Harry.

Harry had looked back to the book for a moment so long that he could have gone back to reading for the rest of the night for all anyone could tell.

But he looked back up, a look of curiousity mixed with sheer awe apparent on his face. “Says here…” He’d started, looking back to the page, “that you ended a war?” Trick fell silent, Harry could only assume he was working through how to word the answer. And sure enough, the man turned back to his desk only long enough to close the book he had been reading.

That night had been spent reliving the tale of The Great War, of Trick explaining the words in the book to Harry, the singer learning about La Shoshain and about the history of this ancient race of people that he had found himself thrown into when he moved out to LA…

He had learned about Isabeau that night too.

Here Harry was, months later, and the festival was in full effect and everyone upstairs was having a good time, he could hear the laughter and general sounds of happy people ringing out from the top of the staircase - and Harry’s hand was searching out that book again. He tried to imagine what Trick must have been feeling, to have been desperate enough after losing the love of his life to use his own blood to end war…. To save his people, ultimately causing him to lose his daughter… Harry couldn’t fathom that. He pulled the familiar book off of the shelf carefully, walking over to the couch again and curling up with his legs under him to flip to those pages again. 

Reading over the words seemed to have so much more of an impact now that he had heard the story from Trick’s perspective. And yet, it seemed like something out of a fairy tale at the same time. 

A great king who was framed when his wife and council of warlords was slaughtered at the hands of his own royal advisor…

The king being turned on by the leaders of the nation he ruled and being forced to use his own blood to rewrite the laws and future story of his kind, ending the war and ultimately setting forth the peaceful society that exists today. 

And everyone lived happily ever after. 

According to the books at least. But Harry couldn’t help but find himself wondering about the old bartender that he had befriended all those months ago. How he had truly dealt with the loss of his wife, how he could cope with his own actions causing his daughter to turn against everything that he held dear… Ultimately causing him to lose her?

Setting the book aside, Harry rested his head back on the back of the couch, closing his eyes and trying to imagine if it were him. If Louis had been the one slaughtered. Just the thought was enough to make his heart ache. He couldn’t imagine being strong enough to end a war and save his own life in that situation. He could invision himself falling willingly when the leaders came for him… He would admit that he was weak, but he would also admit that he was selfish in that way. He would have never been able to put a nation ahead of his own heartbreak. Nothing seemed worth that. 

A sigh escaped his lips and Harry pulled himself to his feet, not wanting to think about that anymore, he could already feel tears pricking at his eyelids and didn’t really want to explain that to anyone. A couple steps across the small study and Harry was putting the book back just where he’d found it and taking a deep breath so he could go back upstairs and join the party as he made a mental note to thank the former Blood King for everything when he got a free minute.