( if anything, the promise is hubris. she's thinking that whatever it is, she can force herself to handle it.
but perhaps the reason why she feels emboldened to do something like that is because, regardless of what happened and for what purpose, gideon is standing before her — the core of her being is currently not being burned for all eternity in a lyctoral crucible. of course, the issue of her being in harrow's body is another existential nightmare, but knowing that she hasn't been utterly consumed takes some of the edge off of the overwhelming guilt and despair.
up until this point, harrow had been keeping the analytical portion of her brain pinned down by force, but her grasp over that had only ever been finite. now she turns and begins to pace, one hand at her chin, mentally observing the issue from all angles. ) Don't be absurd. This isn't one of your science-fiction rags. ( actually, given the full picture of everything that was going on, it really could be, but... no, harrowhark was not going to accept something like that. it was simply too pedestrian; a warped misunderstanding of what seems to be at play here. she is certainly no metaphysicist, but she has an idea that seems to make more sense. )
Imagine, instead, that during our time at Canaan House, a copy of myself was created, split away from the First, and brought here. Entirely unwitting of what had occurred, the original Harrowhark continues on throughout — everything you have described — to the point the same happened for you on, what was it you said, the "most fucked-up, awful, very bad day of your fucking life"? ( at this point she stops, turning over one shoulder to look with faint discomfort at her shades-wearing body double. ) This is, of course, all conjecture. I have been here roughly a month, by my estimate, and we still do not have an answer as to how we were brought here, or for what purpose. It doesn't matter. What matters is: we are both here by means through which we can assume what we know and remember has not been tampered with by an external source.
( a beat, and then: )
Who the fuck was stupid enough to try to assassinate God?
no subject
but perhaps the reason why she feels emboldened to do something like that is because, regardless of what happened and for what purpose, gideon is standing before her — the core of her being is currently not being burned for all eternity in a lyctoral crucible. of course, the issue of her being in harrow's body is another existential nightmare, but knowing that she hasn't been utterly consumed takes some of the edge off of the overwhelming guilt and despair.
up until this point, harrow had been keeping the analytical portion of her brain pinned down by force, but her grasp over that had only ever been finite. now she turns and begins to pace, one hand at her chin, mentally observing the issue from all angles. ) Don't be absurd. This isn't one of your science-fiction rags. ( actually, given the full picture of everything that was going on, it really could be, but... no, harrowhark was not going to accept something like that. it was simply too pedestrian; a warped misunderstanding of what seems to be at play here. she is certainly no metaphysicist, but she has an idea that seems to make more sense. )
Imagine, instead, that during our time at Canaan House, a copy of myself was created, split away from the First, and brought here. Entirely unwitting of what had occurred, the original Harrowhark continues on throughout — everything you have described — to the point the same happened for you on, what was it you said, the "most fucked-up, awful, very bad day of your fucking life"? ( at this point she stops, turning over one shoulder to look with faint discomfort at her shades-wearing body double. ) This is, of course, all conjecture. I have been here roughly a month, by my estimate, and we still do not have an answer as to how we were brought here, or for what purpose. It doesn't matter. What matters is: we are both here by means through which we can assume what we know and remember has not been tampered with by an external source.
( a beat, and then: )
Who the fuck was stupid enough to try to assassinate God?