[ this isn't how she envisioned this going. none of this is. it's not that far off - with harrow's brain as completely turbofucked as it is, she's mostly surprised that she even recognizes the glasses. fuck. did she give them to ortus? did ortus fucking nigenad get her glasses? there aren't even words for how much this sucks.

but the skeletons aren't trying to julienne her right now, and she's no- well, she's an idiot but she's not completely dense. if harrow's going to give her a chance, she's going to take it. the blade lowers even further, its tip touching the ground in a clear disengagement, and she calls out to the knife-like, black-and-slightly-lighter-black blob that she assumes is harrowhark nonagesimus: ]

Imported them all the way from Lycma Cava.

[ there. and now that she's left with absolutely no doubt that harrow will either recognize her or murder her on the spot, she grimaces and continues- ]

They were in the letter you wrote. The one Tridentarius was holding onto. [ and then, like she's just remembered some tremendous grievance from a fight two weeks ago, she stubbornly adds- ] You know she thinks you fancy her? She thinks she actually stands a chance with Harrowhark fucking Nonagesimus. Absolutely delusional. I told her off, no need to thank me.

[ there! now she's left with no doubt that harrow will attempt murder regardless of whether she recognizes her.

the sad thing is, it's the closest thing to familiar she's had in about nine months. ]