Harrowhark the Ninth (
we_bring_hell) wrote2020-11-24 01:43 pm
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Nothing is wrong. Well, nothing new is wrong. It's just that sometimes you wake up and hate everything, starting with yourself and extending outward from there.
She has snarled at Gideon, banished Gideon to the distant past, and is now sulking about being abandoned by Gideon. She was trying to work on the Lyctoral theorems, but her bile got in the way, and now she's chewing on her interdimensional communication mechanism.
She is considering burning characters into her living bones while her cavalier is away and without a healer standing by, because she may be 90% of Gideon's self-control but Gideon is 70% of her self-preservation.
The Mountain Goats is blaring; Transcendental Youth.
She has snarled at Gideon, banished Gideon to the distant past, and is now sulking about being abandoned by Gideon. She was trying to work on the Lyctoral theorems, but her bile got in the way, and now she's chewing on her interdimensional communication mechanism.
She is considering burning characters into her living bones while her cavalier is away and without a healer standing by, because she may be 90% of Gideon's self-control but Gideon is 70% of her self-preservation.
The Mountain Goats is blaring; Transcendental Youth.
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She doesn’t add “Miss Grumpy” to her question, but she thinks it.
Hmm. The prophecy, Gideon’s absence, the difficulty of her world, this work that must be done - any of these would put someone into a bad mood, but all together at once?
“When my sister gets pissed off and overwhelmed, she finds plenty of work that must be done, too. She’s a right horror, but I go to her study and bother her anyway. It takes her mind off of what’s bothering her to bicker with her little sister.”
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She settles into a chair not too close to the desk, but not too far from it, either.
“What’s wrong, Reverend Daughter? Besides the usual everything.”
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"Of course you don't, look who I'm asking." She picks up her pen and moodily stabs the blotter.
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“I’d tell you I’d leave you be,” she says, her tone conversational, “but that would be a terrible lie, and I’m not a liar.”
She examines her fingernails. They’re short, somewhat jagged from accidental breaks, the cuticles rough.
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"I am vile company today," she says abruptly. "I don't wish to hurt you or anyone."
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She shakes her head. “Harrow, when you’re friends with someone, you’re friends with all of them, even the not so pleasant parts. I’m your friend, and I’m not putting myself through anything.”
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"Has time gone on stopping for you when you visit, once it began to?"
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She drums her gloved fingertips on the desk. "Yet not indefinitely."
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"Who, as I recall, you promised never to leave here without from now on."
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She looks up suddenly and catches Ingress's eyes sharply. "What would you do if you could do--anything?" she asks. "If you were bound by duty to neither your Companion nor the Underside? Truly at liberty to decide?"
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Only. It doesn't.
She doesn't have one. She sits up straighter, and the smile fades into a frown.
"I don't know, Harrow. I have- I have no idea."
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