(no subject)
Oct. 7th, 2020 11:07 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
we_bring_hellThe Bar has not relented in her attempts to get Harrow to eat something with slightly more calories than air. After many false starts, she seems to have struck gold with potatoes, a vegetable Harrow has never had before.
Mashed was a success; soup went well, too. But chips--ahhh, chips. Hot, salty, taste like almost nothing at all. Harrow may never eat anything else again. After several false starts in the dipping sauce area she has made peace with a light sprinkling of vinegar. The only problem is they make her gloves and her papers greasy.
Therefore, find Harrowhark Nonagesimus at a table with her journal and a skeletal hand, drawing spirals and... God help us... eating chips with a fork. It could be worse. The hand could be feeding them to her.
Mashed was a success; soup went well, too. But chips--ahhh, chips. Hot, salty, taste like almost nothing at all. Harrow may never eat anything else again. After several false starts in the dipping sauce area she has made peace with a light sprinkling of vinegar. The only problem is they make her gloves and her papers greasy.
Therefore, find Harrowhark Nonagesimus at a table with her journal and a skeletal hand, drawing spirals and... God help us... eating chips with a fork. It could be worse. The hand could be feeding them to her.
no subject
Date: 2020-10-13 03:26 am (UTC)She needs a shower. A water shower, not a sonic, and cold. With harsh lye soap. She'll feel better when the blood is washed off. And the top layer of skin, maybe.
She gets halfway to the bathroom before dizziness over takes her again, and she sits down abruptly on the perpendicular cavalier's bed. Her hand presses against the crisp white sheet, leaving an accusatory pawprint of gravedirt and blood and smeared off paint, and she flees from it.
Later, after her shower, she will strip and make the bed again and listen to Tallahassee at a window-rattling volume.