we_bring_hell | (no subject)

(no subject)

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.

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"Alright," she says again, too weary and sick of herself to argue.

She waves at the skeleton to lock and ward the room behind them.

Ingress was going to let go of her hand once they were out of the room, but she keeps it tucked lightly within hers for a little while longer. Harrow seems to need a hand to hold today.

"We're going to the stables, but I promise, it's not to see a horse."

She leads Harrow down the stairs and towards the back door.

Edited 2020-11-26 03:53 (UTC)

"I shudder to think of what else there is in a stable to see," Harrow says acerbically, but follows docilely. It's easier to go along than fight, and unless she just wants to sit down on a step and never move again those are the options.

Ingress is more alarmed by Harrow's passive demeanor than by anything else she's done or said so far.

"Terribly cute fluffy things that strike horror into the hearts of all," she says, her cajoling a reflex at this point.

There are some benches scattered outside the stable, and Ingress leads Harrow to one. "Hold on a tick, all right?"

She disappears into the stable and a few moments later she comes out leading a thestral. She's not sure whose thestral it is, but the fellow caring for the stable today said it would be fine to take it out for some air. He even had some chunks of meat for Ingress to feed it as a treat.

"This is a thestral," Ingress says, bringing the bat-winged, skeletal horse closer - but not too close. "They're from Tom's world. You can only see them if you've witnessed the death of another."

"No issue there," she mutters quietly.

It is gorgeous. Harrow never went through a horsegirl phase, because horses are extinct and sometimes girl feels like a Protean bed she doesn't quite fit, but something like it kindles in her wasted necromancer's heart at the sinewy, skeletal body of the creature and its sable wings.

The thestral stirs and pulls closer, deeply interested; Harrow smells like blood at all times and in particular today.

Edited 2020-11-26 17:39 (UTC)

Ingress grins, relieved. If nothing else, she's been successful in giving Harrow a little distraction.

"Tom says people are scared of them because of their association with death, think they're unlucky." She strokes the thestral along its slightly slippery, smooth flank. "I think that's rubbish."

She holds the wax paper packet of raw meat out for Harrow. "You can feed it, if you'd like."

"Mm," she says. She takes the meat dubiously, which only concentrates its drakish attention on her. "Does it have a name?"

The mouth is more like a beak than a herbivore's mouth, and might be properly termed a maw. It steps deliberately closer and snaps a bit of the meat, incisors flashing. Seen from outside, with the proper sense of humor, it might be funny; two skittish, gruesome creatures approaching either with mirror images of skepticism.

Seen from Ingress' eyes, it's more like two unique and fascinating beings getting to meet in a most wondrous way. But Ingress is, as always, rather biased.

"Sedulus," she replies. She crosses her arms, watching with a huge smile, ready to step in if either of the two need her.

"The attendant said it could take a quick flight if it wanted. Sedulus likes flying, don't you, sweetheart?" Yes, Ingress is cooing at a thestral. Luna Lovegood would be proud.

It scarfs down the meat, eating fastidiously (sedulously, even) around her fingers. This motherfuck does not, apparently, have a hunger only thumbs can satisfy.

"I would be please to see it fly," Harrow says, risking a graze of its muzzle with her gloved hand.

"Sedulus," Ingress says, patting the thestral's flank once more, "if you want to fly a bit, you can. Come back, and we'll feed you more treats."

The thestral pauses, whickers a raspy wheeze, and then it walks towards the other end of the paddock. Its magnificent wings unfurl to their full span, and with a huge flap that stirs up clouds of dust, it steps forward and lifts off, soaring into the sky.

"So pretty. I love their wings."

"'Pretty' is not the word I would use," Harrow murmurs. "But I agree that its aesthetic is quite pleasing. It is a magnificent beast."

Ingress snickers very quietly to herself. That sounds much more like Harrow.

"I think they will bear people as riders. I'm not sure I'm remembering that correctly, but they seem gentle and friendly enough."

Harrow watches it glide through the sky. "It seems an indignity to a noble creature."

"Perhaps. Something larger carrying something smaller and lighter from place to place doesn't necessarily make for an indignant situation. I could carry you from place to place and keep my nobility."

She's being ridiculous, of course, but she would carry Harrow around if Harrow needed it.

"I don't believe I would find it terribly dignified," she murmurs. "But I suppose if the beast were unwilling it has more than sufficient means to make that known."

Between the teeth and the option to, you know, drop people from a great height.

"Exactly. Nothing that can be ridden will allow you to stay on if it doesn't want you there."

The thestral does one more loop in the sky above their heads before it begins its descent.

"It is not something I have experience with." The thestral touches down soundless, and immediately plods closer to investigate Harrow for additional meat.

"A fearsome, terrible creature thou art," Harrow mutters to it, and scratches its jaw.

The thestral whinnies softly and bumps its head into her touch. It snuffles and nudges, hoping for another snack.

"I think you've made another friend."

She smiles thinly as it snaffles another piece of dried meat from her hand. "While the food lasts, at least."

Ingress nods. "That's the only thing that keeps me around."

Silently, Harrow holds out the bundle of dried meat in Ingress's direction; the thestral follows indignantly.

Ingress tosses her head back and laughs. "No, no, please, I'd hate to deprive this dear creature."

Harrow allows a small smile to crack her facade, and returns to feeding the thestral.

One small smile is a victory Ingress had only hoped for. She knows that the problems and worries facing her friend have gone nowhere and still must be dealt with. She knows she can only provide so much aid and support. But at least she knows that for this moment today, she’s brought Harrow a brief respite.

When the thestral finishes devouring the last bits of meat, it snuffles its way to a corner of the paddock where it can stand in the quiet and enjoy the fresh air.

“I believe our audience is over,” Ingress says.

Harrow nods. "I respect a creature that treasures its solitude," she says solemnly. "May I return to mine?"