[ Puzzled is good. Puzzled is much better than bleeding from her facial orifices. She pronounces Gid-e-on all the way through, and doesn't even put Nigenad after it, and he claps his hands together in satisfied pride. ]
Excellent work. Huge improvement. May I have a quick look at what's going on in there, Harrow? Just for everyone's peace of mind.
[ He steps forward, head a little bowed and one palm open, as ludicrously nonthreatening as he can manage. All he will need is to smooth a thumb at her temple, the briefest touch of skin to skin, to search for the spell and the scarring.
To Gideon, he says: ]
Oh, I believe it. But let's not go planning the mutiny just yet. I'm here to help.
Mutiny? He won't hurt me, Griddle, it's all right.
[ Her voice is weak and shaky, still, and stumbles a bit on 'Griddle,' as she raises her head and fights herself to not smile at her cavalier. Don't worry. She doesn't. That would be weird. But she's trying to grab for Gideon's hand at the same time, which is also completely weird.
Harrow still looks a bit dazed, if nothing else. Her last memories of the Emperor Undying are not the same as Gideon's, the knowledge she has quite different.
Thus, she bows her head: acknowledgement, permission. She knows what she's done. ]
[ Gideon gets to work on performing quite a bit of mental gymnastics -- on the one hand, what Harrow has just said is patently, depressingly false. Gideon has to correct her, both for Harrow's own safety and also because it's nice to finally be right about something. On the other hand, it's probably not a great idea to freak her out right before God's Spooky Brain Exam. That could do her more harm than good.
So Gideon bites her lip and says, tersely: ]
Harrow. Do you remember that thing with the soup?
[ It was dramatic enough that Gideon, the presence at the back of her mind, remembers the thing with the soup. The question is mostly rhetorical, a way to stall for time while the Kindly Prince does his checkup. ]
[ The Emperor Undying definitely remembers the thing with the soup, and he can see where this is going. His inconvenient surprise of a daughter has decided they'd better pile on all the other inconvenient surprises while they're at it.
He makes no effort to derail her. Instead, his touch to Harrow's temple is a gentle press of the fingertips, barely-there, skin to skin. He chews his lip in thought and rocks back on his heels, then moves to stand. ]
Well, I'd certainly classify this as a miracle, and it's not one of mine.
[ That sure is a question. Harrow is not clear, in an obvious blinking-owlishly-at-Gideon way, as to why this is being asked. She holds perfectly still, though: she is the subject of examination by a holy presence, and won't disturb it. ]
Yes?
[ Her confusion is over how it is related, and as the water continues to move, as water is wont to do, Harrow gets a little paler (somehow possible) and maybe a mite greener around the ears, too. But she tilts her head at the Emperor's conclusion, curious and cautious at once. ]
It isn't--I just undid what I had done. I made a--mistake, I fixed it.
[ Gideon does not take her eyes off God throughout the spooky brain exam, which thankfully does not last for very long. Once he's a safe distance away, she continues. ]
Cool. [ not cool. ] Well, the reason you felt like complete shit that night, besides the not sleeping, was that this asshole - [ Gideon points a thumb over at God ] - decided it was in your own best interest to send my crusty namesake to either "fix" or "put you down."
[ Yes, that is complete with air quotes.
Quieter, this time, dangerously and deadly serious: ]
He's tried to hurt you before. [ As if God isn't even there: ] And he's not gonna do it again.
[ Harrow looks hopelessly, helplessly lost, and also a bit like she's about to vomit on his shoes; it's an expression with which he is deeply familiar. The younger and more disruptive Gideon— though she may well be the only Gideon left, now, a scrap of half-eaten soul with a stolen name and eyes he's only ever seen in one place besides a mirror— jabs a thumb at him in open disgust.
God exhales a low, slow breath. He rubs a thumb at his temple. Around them, the world rocks and heaves. ]
I'm afraid you were out for a bit, Harrow. You've missed a few things.
[ To the accusation he does not even have the grace to look embarrassed: he is simply very tired. To the pair of them, he says: ]
I can assure you there's no current danger to young Harrowhark aside seasickness.
[ Now that they're ruled out the hemorrhaging, anyway. ]
[ Harrow whispers it as if this thing is her new worst enemy: it is definitely her current most vile opponent, since the King Undying is being nothing but comforting and Gideon isn't furious with her at the moment. Harrow can only ask for these small favors. She cannot wrap her mind around seeing Gideon again, even if it is not making her bleed and her head does not feel as if it is going to explode. She is blinking wide-eyed at her cavalier, her only friend, her reason for living as if she is a mirage. ]
I have never been on a boat before and I do not think I will go on a boat again—
How ... long is a bit?
[ Her speech is for the Emperor, but her focus is still on Gideon. She is watching Gideon do simple things like breathe in a tiny amount of visible awe. ]
[ God murmurs to himself, as though it's a private joke: ]
Just long enough for things to go straight to hell.
[ See, it's funny because it's literal.
Still: he weathers Gideon's bristling accusations, and fields them with the same mild tone as Harrow continues to look bewildered. At some point, he makes a good-faith gesture and leaves the pair of them alone. He goes to mind the skeletons and the distant shoreline, and let his surprise daughter say what she will in his absence.
It's much later, upon solid ground and within the dark and quiet halls of his borrowed home, that he next has the chance to speak with Harrow alone. He draws her aside before she can retreat to rest for the night. Unkind as it may be, he sits her down across from him with tea.
Really not that unkind, if you ask him: there's no better atmosphere for an awkward, apologetic explanation than sitting in his silent study with an untouched mug of tea. They're making a habit of it. ]
Now, I do know it's been a long day, but we should probably cover the basics.
[ Unkind may not be the word Harrow would use, but then again, she would never think of any cruel word in regard to this man-become-God-become-man; she could not fathom the idea of parsing him as so. Even when frustrated. Even when being told she had not seen her own heart's truest love.
Even though she is so tired, and she wants more than anything to be touch's distance from Gideon Nav, wanting but not touching, just knowing she can. ]
I am--
[ Harrow looks down at her tea, touches the mug for the grounding sensation of warmth, does not drink anything. The usual. ]
--listening, Teacher.
[ To him she is always listening. Even if she knows not the basics of what, exactly. ]
[ God, for his part, lifts the rim of the mug to his mouth and murmurs into it. ]
At least there's that.
[ He drinks, and the silence settles. He sets down the mug. The old house is very quiet; there is only the distant pattering of the skeletons, the thanergy signatures of his theorems set to ready their rooms. Empty constructs, simple things. That's all he has to his name, locally.
He regards her over the tea. He wasn't the one dredged up today from some foreign rebirth, but God looks very tired. ]
You've heard some of it from Gideon, but let me try to set things into a more reasonable order. She's right that I've been the cause of your suffering these past few months, Harrow... that, [ he considers a name, but doesn't push it: ] my Saint of Duty pressed you the way he did with my own blessing. Hell, I didn't think it would be so...
[ He gestures, vaguely, as if to encompass how Duty's methods were so. His forehead is creased with pity and an awkward sort of distress. ]
I worried for you, [ he says, softly, ] given the state in which you came to me.
[ She didn't come to him having forgotten her cavalier. The error goes unacknowledged. ]
I hoped it would be better... simpler, safer... if we could... catalyze your readiness. I'll admit, I didn't expect this.
[ Somewhere upstairs, Gideon Nav is restlessly awake. ]
[ There is a lot here that someone else might say: someone else further removed from the situation, someone more confident and aware of ownership of her own body and mind, things Harrow has never had and does not expect she ever will. It would not be agency she would understand how to use. Lording over others, yes: lording over herself, what nonsense is that.
And so she nods at first, given that is all she has—she could not argue or issue judgment either way. She argued once and the less said about that the better; the less thought about it the better, maybe if she tries hard enough she can forget it entirely. ]
I understand, [ is quiet and partially genuine: she logically understands. She follows the sequence. She takes the planet's tiniest sip of tea, enough to feel heat and not taste much. ] The root is my own error.
[ That's matter of fact. Of course she feels bad about it, but doesn't sound sad or guilty, just a scientist stating a datum point: she did things incorrectly. ]
[ This seems to make him wince, all the same. God's expression does something complicated and unhappy around the eyebrows and the corners of his mouth. He fidgets with his tea, then sets it down again, restless. ]
It was unkind of me. [ He says this like disagreement, like correction. ] I was impatient... I was scared. With Number Seven on the doorstep...
[ He does not finish this thought, either: it is left muddy and uncomfortable. He moves on to one worse. ]
You missed something of a mess, while you were under. [ Under usually meaning submerged for the battle but here meaning down for the count. ] I won't bury you in the details, not today. Not with so much else to worry about. Hell, I'm still getting the shape of it, myself.
[ He touches his mug of tea. He looks at it. He looks at her. The set of his mouth is grim, the light in his eyes gone distant. ]
The Saints of Joy and Patience, [ and he says it soft, says it grave and flat as old worn stone, ] are dead.
[ Just that. It hangs unexamined, heavy as a stormfront. The moments of silence drag. ]
None of it matters, [ God adds, conversationally, ] now that we're here. We have bigger fish to fry, apparently. Some really weird calamari to make. Our priority is dealing with whatever this town throws at us, and some of these are curveballs I really didn't see coming.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
from the september tdm.
[ Puzzled is good. Puzzled is much better than bleeding from her facial orifices. She pronounces Gid-e-on all the way through, and doesn't even put Nigenad after it, and he claps his hands together in satisfied pride. ]
Excellent work. Huge improvement. May I have a quick look at what's going on in there, Harrow? Just for everyone's peace of mind.
[ He steps forward, head a little bowed and one palm open, as ludicrously nonthreatening as he can manage. All he will need is to smooth a thumb at her temple, the briefest touch of skin to skin, to search for the spell and the scarring.
To Gideon, he says: ]
Oh, I believe it. But let's not go planning the mutiny just yet. I'm here to help.
no subject
[ Her voice is weak and shaky, still, and stumbles a bit on 'Griddle,' as she raises her head and fights herself to not smile at her cavalier. Don't worry. She doesn't. That would be weird. But she's trying to grab for Gideon's hand at the same time, which is also completely weird.
Harrow still looks a bit dazed, if nothing else. Her last memories of the Emperor Undying are not the same as Gideon's, the knowledge she has quite different.
Thus, she bows her head: acknowledgement, permission. She knows what she's done. ]
Go ahead.
no subject
So Gideon bites her lip and says, tersely: ]
Harrow. Do you remember that thing with the soup?
[ It was dramatic enough that Gideon, the presence at the back of her mind, remembers the thing with the soup. The question is mostly rhetorical, a way to stall for time while the Kindly Prince does his checkup. ]
no subject
He makes no effort to derail her. Instead, his touch to Harrow's temple is a gentle press of the fingertips, barely-there, skin to skin. He chews his lip in thought and rocks back on his heels, then moves to stand. ]
Well, I'd certainly classify this as a miracle, and it's not one of mine.
no subject
Yes?
[ Her confusion is over how it is related, and as the water continues to move, as water is wont to do, Harrow gets a little paler (somehow possible) and maybe a mite greener around the ears, too. But she tilts her head at the Emperor's conclusion, curious and cautious at once. ]
It isn't--I just undid what I had done. I made a--mistake, I fixed it.
no subject
Cool. [ not cool. ] Well, the reason you felt like complete shit that night, besides the not sleeping, was that this asshole - [ Gideon points a thumb over at God ] - decided it was in your own best interest to send my crusty namesake to either "fix" or "put you down."
[ Yes, that is complete with air quotes.
Quieter, this time, dangerously and deadly serious: ]
He's tried to hurt you before. [ As if God isn't even there: ] And he's not gonna do it again.
[ Not while Gideon is around. ]
no subject
God exhales a low, slow breath. He rubs a thumb at his temple. Around them, the world rocks and heaves. ]
I'm afraid you were out for a bit, Harrow. You've missed a few things.
[ To the accusation he does not even have the grace to look embarrassed: he is simply very tired. To the pair of them, he says: ]
I can assure you there's no current danger to young Harrowhark aside seasickness.
[ Now that they're ruled out the hemorrhaging, anyway. ]
no subject
[ Harrow whispers it as if this thing is her new worst enemy: it is definitely her current most vile opponent, since the King Undying is being nothing but comforting and Gideon isn't furious with her at the moment. Harrow can only ask for these small favors. She cannot wrap her mind around seeing Gideon again, even if it is not making her bleed and her head does not feel as if it is going to explode. She is blinking wide-eyed at her cavalier, her only friend, her reason for living as if she is a mirage. ]
I have never been on a boat before and I do not think I will go on a boat again—
How ... long is a bit?
[ Her speech is for the Emperor, but her focus is still on Gideon. She is watching Gideon do simple things like breathe in a tiny amount of visible awe. ]
no subject
Just long enough for things to go straight to hell.
[ See, it's funny because it's literal.
Still: he weathers Gideon's bristling accusations, and fields them with the same mild tone as Harrow continues to look bewildered. At some point, he makes a good-faith gesture and leaves the pair of them alone. He goes to mind the skeletons and the distant shoreline, and let his surprise daughter say what she will in his absence.
It's much later, upon solid ground and within the dark and quiet halls of his borrowed home, that he next has the chance to speak with Harrow alone. He draws her aside before she can retreat to rest for the night. Unkind as it may be, he sits her down across from him with tea.
Really not that unkind, if you ask him: there's no better atmosphere for an awkward, apologetic explanation than sitting in his silent study with an untouched mug of tea. They're making a habit of it. ]
Now, I do know it's been a long day, but we should probably cover the basics.
no subject
Even though she is so tired, and she wants more than anything to be touch's distance from Gideon Nav, wanting but not touching, just knowing she can. ]
I am--
[ Harrow looks down at her tea, touches the mug for the grounding sensation of warmth, does not drink anything. The usual. ]
--listening, Teacher.
[ To him she is always listening. Even if she knows not the basics of what, exactly. ]
no subject
At least there's that.
[ He drinks, and the silence settles. He sets down the mug. The old house is very quiet; there is only the distant pattering of the skeletons, the thanergy signatures of his theorems set to ready their rooms. Empty constructs, simple things. That's all he has to his name, locally.
He regards her over the tea. He wasn't the one dredged up today from some foreign rebirth, but God looks very tired. ]
You've heard some of it from Gideon, but let me try to set things into a more reasonable order. She's right that I've been the cause of your suffering these past few months, Harrow... that, [ he considers a name, but doesn't push it: ] my Saint of Duty pressed you the way he did with my own blessing. Hell, I didn't think it would be so...
[ He gestures, vaguely, as if to encompass how Duty's methods were so. His forehead is creased with pity and an awkward sort of distress. ]
I worried for you, [ he says, softly, ] given the state in which you came to me.
[ She didn't come to him having forgotten her cavalier. The error goes unacknowledged. ]
I hoped it would be better... simpler, safer... if we could... catalyze your readiness. I'll admit, I didn't expect this.
[ Somewhere upstairs, Gideon Nav is restlessly awake. ]
no subject
And so she nods at first, given that is all she has—she could not argue or issue judgment either way. She argued once and the less said about that the better; the less thought about it the better, maybe if she tries hard enough she can forget it entirely. ]
I understand, [ is quiet and partially genuine: she logically understands. She follows the sequence. She takes the planet's tiniest sip of tea, enough to feel heat and not taste much. ] The root is my own error.
[ That's matter of fact. Of course she feels bad about it, but doesn't sound sad or guilty, just a scientist stating a datum point: she did things incorrectly. ]
no subject
It was unkind of me. [ He says this like disagreement, like correction. ] I was impatient... I was scared. With Number Seven on the doorstep...
[ He does not finish this thought, either: it is left muddy and uncomfortable. He moves on to one worse. ]
You missed something of a mess, while you were under. [ Under usually meaning submerged for the battle but here meaning down for the count. ] I won't bury you in the details, not today. Not with so much else to worry about. Hell, I'm still getting the shape of it, myself.
[ He touches his mug of tea. He looks at it. He looks at her. The set of his mouth is grim, the light in his eyes gone distant. ]
The Saints of Joy and Patience, [ and he says it soft, says it grave and flat as old worn stone, ] are dead.
[ Just that. It hangs unexamined, heavy as a stormfront. The moments of silence drag. ]
None of it matters, [ God adds, conversationally, ] now that we're here. We have bigger fish to fry, apparently. Some really weird calamari to make. Our priority is dealing with whatever this town throws at us, and some of these are curveballs I really didn't see coming.