"No!" says Harrow to that, skinny limbs thrashing in a panic, pulling against the idea as her abhorrence takes physical form. She pictures her renewed House, the Emperor's gift, all those sleeping bodies rent in the jaws of the Beast. "We cannot. I cannot go home."
She cannot do this in the dark, beseech the one holding her this close, and so Harrow opens her eyes again. There is an odd and muffled spang in her head, a stab of pain, but it subsides more quickly this time, the blood that flows from one tearduct and out her left nostril a sluggish trickle. She looks again at the face of the person holding her, and knows it with the clarity she always should have had.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2021-05-18 06:40 pm (UTC)She cannot do this in the dark, beseech the one holding her this close, and so Harrow opens her eyes again. There is an odd and muffled spang in her head, a stab of pain, but it subsides more quickly this time, the blood that flows from one tearduct and out her left nostril a sluggish trickle. She looks again at the face of the person holding her, and knows it with the clarity she always should have had.
She bleeds, and she stares, and she cannot move.