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we_bring_hellHarrow knows every inch of the Ninth; knows it better than anyone else, for is she not the one who climbed the Anastasian Monument?
Perhaps that is how she found this door.
Squinting in the brutal light and slightly heavier gravity, Harrow Nova runs through her rapier forms. She is small, hardly the typical necro suitcase of the Ninth, but she is lithe and fast and ruthless. She is slim but muscular in cast-off dusty blacks; her abbreviated, pinned back robe flares behind her like raven wings.
She's been wielding the black blade for seven years, but the chain in her offhand is new and she has to integrate it into her repertoire. The chain is pure black Drearburh steel, every link a death's head, the weighted end a carved butterfly of pelvis in lead-filled bone. It is heavy--she is not--and once it gains momentum it moves like a living thing, an unforgiving dance partner.
She will master it. She will supplant the cavalier primary. She will accompany the Reverend Daughter to the First House.
Perhaps that is how she found this door.
Squinting in the brutal light and slightly heavier gravity, Harrow Nova runs through her rapier forms. She is small, hardly the typical necro suitcase of the Ninth, but she is lithe and fast and ruthless. She is slim but muscular in cast-off dusty blacks; her abbreviated, pinned back robe flares behind her like raven wings.
She's been wielding the black blade for seven years, but the chain in her offhand is new and she has to integrate it into her repertoire. The chain is pure black Drearburh steel, every link a death's head, the weighted end a carved butterfly of pelvis in lead-filled bone. It is heavy--she is not--and once it gains momentum it moves like a living thing, an unforgiving dance partner.
She will master it. She will supplant the cavalier primary. She will accompany the Reverend Daughter to the First House.
no subject
Date: 2020-10-18 01:29 am (UTC)The smirk is gone. There's a weird gentleness to his voice all of the sudden, this obnoxious, irritating adept who doesn't belong on the Ninth any more than he belonged on the Sixth. And more than that -- a weird almost-lilt of formality, the more he speaks.
"Are you certain this is how it happens?"
(There's a bright slash of red underneath his hoodie. A flicker. A bamboo stick in his hand.)
no subject
Date: 2020-10-18 01:33 am (UTC)"Wei Wuxian?" The grass flickers and glitches under her fingers. "What are you--" Water is rising between her fingers, up through the grass. Not like a flood but like the ground is turning into a river.
no subject
Date: 2020-10-18 01:36 am (UTC)He is in his long dark robes now, the skeletons gone, and inky smoke whips around his hands as he reaches for her --
no subject
Date: 2020-10-18 01:45 am (UTC)And wakes up somewhere else.