Ayup. [ and then, at the oedipal commentary- ] -okay, point taken, but go easy on me? One: she was really hot, and two: she wasn't my mom at the time. Besides, I'm pretty sure I'll never be able to think about hot girls again without remembering them taking off God's shirt, so really, I'm the victim here.
[ but they can't stay on oedipus and unfortunate connotations about her father forever. more to the point, she'd really rather get off (heh) the topic entirely. so when harrow succinctly summarizes her day from hell by telling her it's complete nonsense, all gideon can do is shrug her bony-ass shoulders. ]
You're the one with the head for formulas. I'm just reporting in.
[ it sounds insane to her too. but harrow hasn't accused her of lying - she's said it's the best explanation they have. which sounds suspiciously close to her necromancer trusting her, just like what comes next sounds suspiciously close to her necromancer being grateful for her presence. she's sorely tempted to tease, to be an utter shit in harrow's moment of weakness.
instead, her hand twitches, as if it intends to reach for harrow of its own accord, and gideon mumbles- ]
Yeah. It's... been a while, hasn't it.
[ nine months of watching harrow in silence, like trying to struggle to the top of a lake in a dream. nine months of gasping sights and sounds and memories where she can find it, in tiny gaps in harrow's brain-based defenses. and now, even with the shittiest circumstances imaginable, harrow is here, speaking to her - being glad for her presence.
her bastard, traitor hand raises, just a little - fingers extending harrow's way from a short distance - and drops. instead, she takes a step back and executes a deep bow, a fairly decent mockery of the kind of the thing drilled into cavaliers from birth. ]
Lady Nonagesimus, [ and there's the shit-eating grin, ] your cavalier, Gideon Nav, will stand at your-
[ that's about as far as she gets before she just passes the fuck out, straight onto her face. the sword in her hands, whether by cosmic mercy or by loaded instinct, is pushed to the side; this close, it should be clear that the blood at her ears is sudden and new. ]
no subject
[ but they can't stay on oedipus and unfortunate connotations about her father forever. more to the point, she'd really rather get off (heh) the topic entirely. so when harrow succinctly summarizes her day from hell by telling her it's complete nonsense, all gideon can do is shrug her bony-ass shoulders. ]
You're the one with the head for formulas. I'm just reporting in.
[ it sounds insane to her too. but harrow hasn't accused her of lying - she's said it's the best explanation they have. which sounds suspiciously close to her necromancer trusting her, just like what comes next sounds suspiciously close to her necromancer being grateful for her presence. she's sorely tempted to tease, to be an utter shit in harrow's moment of weakness.
instead, her hand twitches, as if it intends to reach for harrow of its own accord, and gideon mumbles- ]
Yeah. It's... been a while, hasn't it.
[ nine months of watching harrow in silence, like trying to struggle to the top of a lake in a dream. nine months of gasping sights and sounds and memories where she can find it, in tiny gaps in harrow's brain-based defenses. and now, even with the shittiest circumstances imaginable, harrow is here, speaking to her - being glad for her presence.
her bastard, traitor hand raises, just a little - fingers extending harrow's way from a short distance - and drops. instead, she takes a step back and executes a deep bow, a fairly decent mockery of the kind of the thing drilled into cavaliers from birth. ]
Lady Nonagesimus, [ and there's the shit-eating grin, ] your cavalier, Gideon Nav, will stand at your-
[ that's about as far as she gets before she just passes the fuck out, straight onto her face. the sword in her hands, whether by cosmic mercy or by loaded instinct, is pushed to the side; this close, it should be clear that the blood at her ears is sudden and new. ]