Two lyctors. Dulcinea Septimus, by which I mean the corpse of the lyctor pretending to be her, again. And, uh. My mom.

[ it sounds like it could be the punchline to some terrible cosmic joke. it is absolutely not delivered like one. if anything, it sounds mostly like gideon would rather fucking die than elaborate right now. which is probably why she rotates straight back into harrow's explanation of- ]

Got it. So just stele-free travel and perfect, living clones, nothing stupid like time travel. That's reassuring. [ but she's not actually trying to argue with harrow right now, and she's more than happy to nod as the explanation finishes sinking in. ] Hey, works for me. We can worry about the how later, right? Right now, we're both stuck here. That's what matters.

[ whoa, hey. that sounded... kind of reassuring? don't get her wrong, nonagesimus. that was absolutely not intended to be reassuring. any tones of gratefulness for be able to see harrowhark nonagesimus again are entirely imagined.

god, she's so close she could reach out and touch her. she very nearly does. ]