[and a memory of her own starts! it's in first person, and has some handy-dandy narration. kind of like an audiobook. teehee.
You are eleven years old, and you hate Harrowhark Nonagesimus.
But that's okay, because she hates you too. More than anything. You fight each other bloody, whenever you can - you set traps, sieges, assaults, you cannot get away from the other. She claws marks down your face, and you bite her, and when you are hoisted up in front of the nuns, you are the only one punished, but it's worth it to see Harrowhark's watery eyes and imperious loser face.
You are eleven years old, and Harrowhark is ten. And she is obsessed with the Locked Tomb. You know this. You know this as you creep after her on this horrible, dead planet, grey dust and bones and the smell of recycled air. You are not very good at stealth, but it's okay, because Harrowhark is not very good at noticing you. You like to do whatever you can to change that, most days.
You follow her. Your hands are cold and shaking when you look around the corner of rocks to see Harrowhark in the act of opening the Locked Tomb. The most sacrilegious act of all, rolling away the rock, and going inside. The one thing the nuns and all the doctrines and bullshit you never really listen to, that one thing that nobody is ever supposed to do - you see her do it, and you turn and you run.
You run to Priamhark and Pelleamena Nonagesimus, heads of your House, as fast as you can, out of some - desire to show evidence that you can be loyal to the House, to get a pat on the head, to get any sort of scrap of validation, and, of course, to get Harrow in the most trouble she's ever been in in her life. You want to prove them all wrong. See? See! Here's the fervid spirit of the House you all claim that I lack, you think, babbling what you saw to the two of them. Here is what will get you accolades.
They listen, and they don't say a word.
And then - they call for Harrow. You are told to leave, but you don't. You hide outside the great doors to the hall, and you listen, because they hadn't told you to go away entirely, just to get out of the room, and you're a shitty trash child who wants to hear Harrowhark get raked over the coals for once in her life. You wait an entire hour for anything at all, but there's nothing. No screams or crying or punishment. And then you can't wait anymore, you have to know what happened. So - you push the door open.
In front of you are Pelleamena and Priamhark hanging from the rafters, purple and dead. Mortus the Ninth, their huge cavalier, swung beside them from a rafter groaning with his bulk. And below them is Harrowhark, ten years old, with a length of unused rope, standing among the chairs that her parents had kicked aside.
Harrow looks at you. You look at her.
And then nothing had ever gone right after that, never ever.
gideon frowns, carefully pushing her glasses up her nose.]
[ when one thinks of necromancy, they imagine like. zombies. but if no one noticed the difference then that can't be it unless everyone is very stupid? ]
I've got no idea other than Nonagesimus is a very good necromancer, and it's easy to be like, ooh, sorry, Mrs. Clattercoccyx, the Lord and Lady have taken a vow of silence, you'll just need to speak to me instead.
Okay, well, I will tell you this is something I do not want to talk to you about. Or anybody. Ever. At any time. I hope another hole opens up underneath us, actually.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[she has to admit this.
also, the screen flicks back on behind them.]
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[ he does not want to but he'll. peek over his shoulder. what's happening now. ]
cw: suicide
[and a memory of her own starts! it's in first person, and has some handy-dandy narration. kind of like an audiobook. teehee.
gideon frowns, carefully pushing her glasses up her nose.]
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he just blinks, turning to look at her. they were young in that, so a few years have passed since then and now, but... ]
They killed themselves over that.
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It was a big deal. Opening the Tomb was supposed to be like unleashing the apocalypse.
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[ ... ]
Was it unleashed?
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That must have been awkward.
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You've got no idea. It's fine. Nobody knew they even died.
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[ it's mentioned on harrow's profile and also she's weird about it ]
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[ when one thinks of necromancy, they imagine like. zombies. but if no one noticed the difference then that can't be it unless everyone is very stupid? ]
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She sounds very powerful.
[ for such a tiny, weak looking girl ]
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She does good enough. She's also got me.
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What are you, anyway? Lovers?
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-- What? No. No? Ew. We - no. [aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
aaaaaaaaaaa]
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If you say so. But 'ew' is not really the impression you give off.
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Well, I'm sure you'll figure something out eventually.
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There's nothing to figure out, but thanks.
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[ and your weird, weird bullshit ]
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(no subject)