[ 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}
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.