Keeping still so Palamedes can work, Harrow's aware of Gideon only as a presence out of the corner of her eye, shuffling hesitantly in to hand over the gauze before receding. For the task at hand, perhaps that's better; if Harrow cannot perceive her, cannot look at her, there's nothing to trigger the pain and the bleeding and complicate an already complex matter.
Palamedes hits the curve of her skull, wiping clean the bone and exposing the lines of new growth, the places marking where Ianthe's unworthy hand had put the saw at Harrow's demand. It's an exposure that sits ill within her now, another sign that they've progressed to a point where continuing is easier than retreat. Everything she had to do is about to be undone, and like a child, she fumes for a moment at the unfairness of the world before turning her attention to the calm instruction of Sextus' voice.
"Natural and unnatural are complicated terms when it comes to Lyctorhood, I've learned," she murmurs, her teeth worrying her lower lip. "Your plan makes sense. I'll help to guide you where needed, and...set right the things I've done." Inhaling slowly, Harrow unfurls the healed ridges of bone, drawing them back to re-expose the cut edges and loosen the panel enough to allow removal. Again, it takes effort, but less than she expected; her access to the Lyctoral well had unquestionably deepened, and it's a revelation that both thrills and disturbs her in equal measure.
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Palamedes hits the curve of her skull, wiping clean the bone and exposing the lines of new growth, the places marking where Ianthe's unworthy hand had put the saw at Harrow's demand. It's an exposure that sits ill within her now, another sign that they've progressed to a point where continuing is easier than retreat. Everything she had to do is about to be undone, and like a child, she fumes for a moment at the unfairness of the world before turning her attention to the calm instruction of Sextus' voice.
"Natural and unnatural are complicated terms when it comes to Lyctorhood, I've learned," she murmurs, her teeth worrying her lower lip. "Your plan makes sense. I'll help to guide you where needed, and...set right the things I've done." Inhaling slowly, Harrow unfurls the healed ridges of bone, drawing them back to re-expose the cut edges and loosen the panel enough to allow removal. Again, it takes effort, but less than she expected; her access to the Lyctoral well had unquestionably deepened, and it's a revelation that both thrills and disturbs her in equal measure.