Harrow is somewhat bloodied and somewhat winded, but still a long way from passing out. She perks up noticeably with praise, as always. The engine of her soul runs on pride and duty.
"Let us go, then," she says, patting the moisture from face and neck with a stained blue handkerchief.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2020-10-22 01:24 pm (UTC)"Let us go, then," she says, patting the moisture from face and neck with a stained blue handkerchief.