Night Comes To Tallahassee

[we_bring_hell]

The Bar does her best to mother the underage patrons of the Bar, nudging them gently towards self-care and withholding harmful things, but she is not omniscient. She couldn't have known not to give Harrowhark Nonagesimus pushpins and index cards and colorful string.

Harrow has secured a small sideroom in the library, the equivalent of a grad student cubicle, and something awful is taking shape there; the crazy conspiracist murder board equivalent of the bone construct lurking in the depths of Canaan House. There is color-coding. There are crossreferences. There are Tarot cards mixed in. There's a map of Canaan House. There are accidental yarn pentagrams that have somehow not yet summoned the soul of Pepe Silvia.

Harrowhark is dressed way down, and yet somehow at her most feral and goblin-like, sockfooted and gloveless in soft pants and black hoodie, as she shifts the cards around and examines new configurations. Ever so often she refers to her journal. She is humming something under her breath.

Comments

[we_bring_hell]

She eyes him. "It is a common response for me, but I wield the energies of death. Thank you for your assistance, but I fear it was unwise. Shall I take you to your room?"

[lightamidchaos]

"It is not unknown for us, either," he tells her.

"She was here. The chance for you to ask her what you wished was at hand. I could not stand by and let it pass."

He shakes his head.

"I will go to the lake, instead."

Not only had he already planned to test himself with the sword, he now has no intention of returning to the room too early, marked with blood, and alarming Wei Ying.

[we_bring_hell]

She frowns, but it is what she would do. She doesn't have a leg to stand on. "Hold on--I have already ruined one set of your robes." She reaches out her hand.

Quickly, before it can set into the fibers, Harrow skeletonizes the blood, leaving a rusty powder on the front of the robe. "I have tried not to damage the fabric, but it takes a great deal of precision."

[lightamidchaos]

"Thank you."

He lays a hand on his guqin, returning it to its hidden storage, and is beyond grateful that the small exertion does not cause him any further trouble. He is recovering already, it would seem.

"Did you learn what you needed to know? I would be glad to try again, in the future."

A beat of silence, and then, anticipating --

"As long as I am not doing so immediately after a few days such as these last three, it will present no difficulty."

[we_bring_hell]

"I learned... something," she says, pondering what she did learn. "Things that were rumored were confirmed."

"I am greatly in your debt."

[lightamidchaos]

He shakes his head.

"You are not. It is my honor to help."

[we_bring_hell]

She hesitates, and then inclines her head. "It is very well. In truth, the Ninth would prefer not to owe Gusu Lan a debt."

"But Harrowhark Nonagesimus would be a friend to Lan Wangji."

[lightamidchaos]

"The Ninth owes nothing to Gusu Lan," says the Second Jade of Lan, clear and certain, as he bows his head to her in turn.

"And Lan Wangji would also be a friend to Harrowhark Nonagesimus. Is."

[we_bring_hell]

A fugitive, maniac urge fires through Harrow's skull, scared and alone.

What if I hugged him?

She does not.


"Be well. And please do not tell Wei Wuxian you overexerted yourself for me."

[lightamidchaos]

Something like a smile flickers at the corners of his mouth.

"Rest assured that I will attempt to avoid that."

He gets to his feet, and even manages to do so without needing to brace himself on the table.

"Be well, yourself, Harrow."

Lan Wangji nods a farewell to her, and leaves the room to go back in search of music, elsewhere in the library.