The smug satisfaction that turns the corner of Harrow's lips up is familiar; less so the flip her stomach does at the warm sound of Gideon's voice, but she accepts both reactions. Even welcomes them, if hesitantly. "I am the greatest necromancer of my generation," she says. "Surpassing my father. My grandmother. Every adept that's ever touched a skeleton for the last myriad and all the myriads to come."
She turns her head, letting her cheek rest more fully against the soft cotton of Gideon's shirt. Slowly, she lets out a breath. "My best is glorious. Better than whatever they can dream up for this, and I am gratified you've noticed, Griddle."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2021-09-18 08:54 pm (UTC)She turns her head, letting her cheek rest more fully against the soft cotton of Gideon's shirt. Slowly, she lets out a breath. "My best is glorious. Better than whatever they can dream up for this, and I am gratified you've noticed, Griddle."