She knows enough about the Heralds to suspect the sound of their motion would be a scuttling, a chittering, not boots on the ground and the sound of a human voice. Still, Harrow flinches as they come closer, fingertips clawing weakly at the ground to pull herself forward, away--until she's grabbed. Her head turns, half-expecting one of the others, a final indignity on top of everything else. Expecting Ortus, though was that ever his name?
She doesn't know, and the pain makes reasoning it through a difficult thing.
Whoever it is is talking, the words only half-comprehensible but the panic all too clear. Harrow's eyes flutter back open, taking in flaming hair and a flash of gold, a crooked mouth open in an o of horror, and everything in her head splits apart. The pain sears through her, blinds her as she convulses. Harrow makes a sound like gnakkkt, blood streaming like tears from her eyes and pouring in a fountain from her nose, yet more clogging her throat.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2021-05-18 01:09 pm (UTC)She doesn't know, and the pain makes reasoning it through a difficult thing.
Whoever it is is talking, the words only half-comprehensible but the panic all too clear. Harrow's eyes flutter back open, taking in flaming hair and a flash of gold, a crooked mouth open in an o of horror, and everything in her head splits apart. The pain sears through her, blinds her as she convulses. Harrow makes a sound like gnakkkt, blood streaming like tears from her eyes and pouring in a fountain from her nose, yet more clogging her throat.