( well i did more canon review today and apparently harrow can swim but let's just say it's not well enough to want to fall into the water again
anyways.
this is the type of moment harrow basks in: her very aware of her upper hand in a situation, her making someone else aware of it, and she trying to take them for whatever she could get. if there were anything truly valuable over there — like a hidden vault, stocked with human bones — she would act as though the suspended bicycle was cursed and there truly was no way to get across. but she had found that it was just as useless as the rest of this woe-begotten capitalist relic, so she figured she might as well leverage that to learn what she could about one of her fellow captives. )
I assure you: in this situation, you could trust your safety to no better person here.
( when it comes to her necromantic ability alone, harrowhark is confident.
but it is very well limited to this situation, this transaction, this breath, this moment. outside of her word, you would never want to trust the Reverend Daughter with your back. had any other person from canaan house heard those words, they most likely would have ended up falling into a fit of laughter, and none more so than her cavalier.
my, he is a wheeler and a dealer. she feels as though she's haggling with palamedes over the use of their keys. she adjusts her expectations accordingly. ah, well — it seems as though a demonstration is unavoidable, though she would prefer avoid the waste of preciously limited resources. )
Fine. I will move across. You will make your offer, if you so choose—but be expeditious. My endurance is finite.
( as she speaks, one of her hands dips into a fold of her robes. there is an odd, faintly ominous clacking as she does so, and after a moment she produces a handful of human vertebrae. she rolls them over in her hand in a familiar way, fingers almost intimate over the spinous and transverse processes. then she drops them right in front of her, at the edge of the gap.
the osseous matter seethes and billows, what was set and solid becoming variable and flowing. the vertebrae multiply instantaneously, and then those multiply, the effect exponential as two columns stretch across the gap. the extensions of the vertebrae reach unnaturally long, creating a serrated edge almost ornamentally along the sides. across the two sprout ribs, fusing to each vertical column and clustering thick enough that one would be able to step across the make-shift bridge without too much fear of falling.
so long as they have decent balance.
without missing a beat, harrow steps forward to go across, moving with a self-assuredness that carries her like a black-sailed ship all the way to the other side. when she gets there she turns on her heel to face the stranger across the gap, fingers interlacing in front of her. )
Speak quickly, or I go on alone.
( she's already beginning to break out in a blood-sweat, beading damp and rusty at her hairline, threatening to run down her painted face. )
no subject
anyways.
this is the type of moment harrow basks in: her very aware of her upper hand in a situation, her making someone else aware of it, and she trying to take them for whatever she could get. if there were anything truly valuable over there — like a hidden vault, stocked with human bones — she would act as though the suspended bicycle was cursed and there truly was no way to get across. but she had found that it was just as useless as the rest of this woe-begotten capitalist relic, so she figured she might as well leverage that to learn what she could about one of her fellow captives. )
I assure you: in this situation, you could trust your safety to no better person here.
( when it comes to her necromantic ability alone, harrowhark is confident.
but it is very well limited to this situation, this transaction, this breath, this moment. outside of her word, you would never want to trust the Reverend Daughter with your back. had any other person from canaan house heard those words, they most likely would have ended up falling into a fit of laughter, and none more so than her cavalier.
my, he is a wheeler and a dealer. she feels as though she's haggling with palamedes over the use of their keys. she adjusts her expectations accordingly. ah, well — it seems as though a demonstration is unavoidable, though she would prefer avoid the waste of preciously limited resources. )
Fine. I will move across. You will make your offer, if you so choose—but be expeditious. My endurance is finite.
( as she speaks, one of her hands dips into a fold of her robes. there is an odd, faintly ominous clacking as she does so, and after a moment she produces a handful of human vertebrae. she rolls them over in her hand in a familiar way, fingers almost intimate over the spinous and transverse processes. then she drops them right in front of her, at the edge of the gap.
the osseous matter seethes and billows, what was set and solid becoming variable and flowing. the vertebrae multiply instantaneously, and then those multiply, the effect exponential as two columns stretch across the gap. the extensions of the vertebrae reach unnaturally long, creating a serrated edge almost ornamentally along the sides. across the two sprout ribs, fusing to each vertical column and clustering thick enough that one would be able to step across the make-shift bridge without too much fear of falling.
so long as they have decent balance.
without missing a beat, harrow steps forward to go across, moving with a self-assuredness that carries her like a black-sailed ship all the way to the other side. when she gets there she turns on her heel to face the stranger across the gap, fingers interlacing in front of her. )
Speak quickly, or I go on alone.
( she's already beginning to break out in a blood-sweat, beading damp and rusty at her hairline, threatening to run down her painted face. )