sugarlips: (Default)
Harrowhark Nonagesimus ([personal profile] sugarlips) wrote2021-10-09 05:08 pm

Put That Thing Back Where It Came From Or So Help Me

Desolation. That's what Harrow feels when the King Undying tells her that what she wants most is impossible. Not even what she wants, but what she needs. She cannot live without Gideon Nav, and she will not. Unending life, in spite of being what she had sought after in the beginning, is now unthinkable. She looks up into his surprisingly normal face, his unearthly eyes, and lets her gaze drop.

A horrible certainty rises in her, and becomes a morbid hope. Her face is serene with unspeakable grief, none of her wild plan showing as she asks to see the body of her cavalier. He grants her this, and she walks like a woman to the gallows down the ship to the cold storage. He has the grace to leave her alone with her grief, of course, and she opens the door with her heart in her throat.

The chill of the corpsetorium echoes the cool calm of her mind. Her chest aches, her throat is sore from screaming, but the sight of Gideon, hole in her chest, laying on a slab like so much dead meat does not inspire the crushing grief she had expected to. It fuels her. Motivates her to think harder, to dissect the theorems she studied and the one megatheorem that led to this cursed conclusion (damn Sextus for being right).

Harrow has no idea how long she sits there, her mind working in overdrive, peering inward to slowly pull out the stitches she had made in her own soul only mere hours before. It feels like only seconds at the same time it feels like eons. She has to do this carefully, slowly. I will not live without you. she thinks to herself and to the traces of Nav that exist inside her. She repeats it like a mantra. I told you that I am undone without you. We are both undone if I must go on alone.

It's the most delicate work she's ever done, and it hurts. It's a pain right down to her marrow, like she's trying to peel layers of calcium off of her own bones. At the end of it, it feels like she's holding a doll in her metaphysical hands. A little gauzy imitation of Gideon Nav. She pulls it free of herself, feels blood drip from her forehead into her eyes, and with all of the ferocity she had to hold back during the excavation, she slams the soul back into its rightful body.
bonebutchblues: (Default)

[personal profile] bonebutchblues 2021-10-11 01:51 am (UTC)(link)
She surfaces with Harrow and wastes no time in looping her arms around her and pulling her close. The water here is warm, and fresh, and nothing at all like that cold pool in Canaan House, but she can't help but be reminded of the night that feels like yesterday to her. Distantly she wonders how long it's really been.

Instead she presses her own head to Harrow's and whispers, "I'm sorry. Harrow, I'm so sorry."
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[personal profile] bonebutchblues 2021-10-11 02:02 am (UTC)(link)
Don't think about her boobs touching you don't think about her boobs touching you don't think about her boobs- She takes a slow breath, in through her nose, out through her mouth.

"I was selfish. I was unforgivable," she confesses. Her arms tighten around Harrow in case she gets the idea to pull away, selfish again. "I couldn't watch you die. I'm too selfish for that."
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[personal profile] bonebutchblues 2021-10-11 02:21 am (UTC)(link)
Her hand wipes wet hair out of Harrow's face. Of course it's about that. Let's not talk about anything else that it could possibly be about. "Well, that's fair enough."
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[personal profile] bonebutchblues 2021-10-11 02:30 am (UTC)(link)
Those calloused hands are unrelenting, brushing back her hair and stroking it gently against her scalp. It's really starting to sink in for Gideon. They made it. They're out.

"I won't," she almost whispers, "I promise."
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[personal profile] bonebutchblues 2021-10-11 02:50 am (UTC)(link)
"This water's nicer," she says stupidly, tugging Harrow to sit on a submerged bench. She won't stop petting her though. She doesn't want to stop touching her, ever. She also doesn't want to examine her not wanting to stop touching her ever. She just wants to touch Harrow and be warm and not think.
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[personal profile] bonebutchblues 2021-10-11 03:22 am (UTC)(link)
OK, well she was aiming to put Harrow beside her, but when Harrow sits on her lap, her body and face warm even beyond what the water causes. She stays in that silent moment a long time, until finally she grabs at a bar of soap and begins to lather up Harrow's grimy hair.
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[personal profile] bonebutchblues 2021-10-11 03:34 am (UTC)(link)
Gideon can't deny to herself her disappointment when Harrow leaves, but it was too good to last, wasn't it? At least she's allowing Gideon to wash her hair. Someone has to.

"Fucking nasty" she agrees.
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[personal profile] bonebutchblues 2021-10-11 03:44 am (UTC)(link)
"I wouldn't take that bet." She tries to let her fingers say all the things she can't out loud. She lets all her tenderness go into her hands as they gently work out gunk and untangle snags. Finally she's satisfied for her work for this first round. "Hold your breath for me?"
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[personal profile] bonebutchblues 2021-10-11 04:01 am (UTC)(link)
She cups her hands and begins pouring water over Harrow's head. It's all very full of baptism imagery. Then she moves on to her back.
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[personal profile] bonebutchblues 2021-10-11 05:42 am (UTC)(link)
Gideon stops when Harrow grabs her. She’d be content enough to continue in silence, but apparently that isn’t an option. Still, there’s a long beat before she answers.

“Well, I should have expected it,” she says, not actually answering the question at all, “of course a little control freak like you wouldn’t accept Lyctorhood under anything but your own perfect conditions.”
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[personal profile] bonebutchblues 2021-10-11 06:16 am (UTC)(link)
She can’t see that face. She can’t read Harrow here at all. The kiss has her confused, but maybe Harrow’s just mirroring her own action from earlier. It could mean anything. She grunts an affirmation and pulls back to wash her own hair.

Or at least, she tries. There are a couple of awkward, aborted movements as she realizes she can’t lift her arms up with her chest still freshly healing.
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[personal profile] bonebutchblues 2021-10-11 06:43 am (UTC)(link)
It is exactly that kind of grunt. When Harrow presses on her arms, she lowers them and nods, but also looks away. Harrow's not the only one unsure she deserves tenderness. But still, she sits on the bench, her back to her Necromancer.
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