If Harrow could have completed her thought, it might have read something like this:
It feels like I died long ago and have been a construct for many years, a servant of my heartless intellect, and you have brought me back to life. Is that blasphemy? If it is, I do not regret it.
Gideon Nav, my Resurrector; my beloved.
Except probably not, because the part of Harrow that wants to explain itself lacks that kind of eloquence. Harrow's body has been neglected and mistreated for most of two decades; it is a feral creature. But Gideon has been winning its trust, and now it curls up and purrs for her, metaphorically.
Literally, too, once the gasps and trembling pass.
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Date: 2020-11-10 04:24 pm (UTC)It feels like I died long ago and have been a construct for many years, a servant of my heartless intellect, and you have brought me back to life. Is that blasphemy? If it is, I do not regret it.
Gideon Nav, my Resurrector; my beloved.
Except probably not, because the part of Harrow that wants to explain itself lacks that kind of eloquence. Harrow's body has been neglected and mistreated for most of two decades; it is a feral creature. But Gideon has been winning its trust, and now it curls up and purrs for her, metaphorically.
Literally, too, once the gasps and trembling pass.