You're not the type of person who says things thoughtlessly, so if you're saying them, then in some way they need to be said - but really, Harrow! Value your own life a little more!
I do value my life. [a small wry smile.] Too much. I've always chosen to live, even when I wasn't supposed to.
I'm not really a person, Vulpecula. I'm the souls of two hundred dead children, and I exist to serve my House. The notion of putting those souls to rest, finally, in service of their home is...there's a justice in it.
Then don't die! They're a part of you, it sounds like, but - Harrow, that's not all you are. You're also you. Whatever your circumstances, whatever you went through that brought you to this moment - I'm talking to Harrowhark Nonagesimus, who is right in front of me right now.
Don't be sorry. [she's chewing her lip hard enough to draw blood.] I'm the one who...I don't know how to be someone else, besides all of that, and still...
...it takes time, that's all. You'll definitely figure it out. And you've got good people around you to help you figure it out... it's okay to rely on them, you know.
[—have time, they would say, if they had enough time to get the words out before the stardust engulfed them and the memory began to play out before their eyes.
...
why is harrow's life suffering. god. god!!! this canon is so mean to her! so fucking mean!! all this to say, even with the way vulpecula's expression is obscured by their veil, they seem affected by the memory.]
Yes. [a slightly wet laugh.] I was always dreadful to him. My parents killed his father. [...] They didn't only kill him, they demanded that he kill himself, and he did it without question.
All Ortus cared about was his poetry, and I forced him to be my cavalier, and I put him in the situation that eventually led to his death for my own personal, petty reason. He would have been well within his rights to hate me.
[tmw i want to have vulpecula say more but i don't know what
so. they start to say something (though, again, i don't know what would be), and a convenient shower of stardust cuts them off.
You wake up.
It's another day in this place, and you - you're tired, but you know you can't just stay in bed all day, so you resolve to get up. It takes you a moment, because the pillows and blankets are really more comfortable than they have any right to be.
You sit up, swing your legs over the side of the bed, and stand -
"AUGH!"
And fall, because it isn't legs, plural, anymore. It's leg. One leg. You're missing one of your legs, and you really don't have anyone to blame for it but yourself. ...yourself, and the hateful situation you went through, that wretched creature that got ahold of you, but -
No. It's your own fault. Your actions led to that particular outcome, and you shouldn't blame others for it.
One must take responsibility for the things they do, after all.
Gritting your teeth, you use your arms to push yourself back up into a sitting position, then hold onto your bed to keep your balance as you get up on one leg. You have the feeling you'll get scolded if you get caught hopping around, so you'll have to figure out something to use as a crutch. But you'll figure it out. You've always been more resourceful than most people give you credit for, you remind yourself.
Even your brother would be astounded - and you hope, a little impressed? - if he saw what you had accomplished without him.
...one step at a time. This missing leg won't keep you down for long.
[they seem. a little awkward? embarrassed, maybe? who wouldn't be embarrassed over someone witnessing them forget they were missing a leg and falling over. damn.]
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I'm sorry. I'm taking advantage of you, aren't I? Saying these things, knowing you can't do anything about them.
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I'm not really a person, Vulpecula. I'm the souls of two hundred dead children, and I exist to serve my House. The notion of putting those souls to rest, finally, in service of their home is...there's a justice in it.
But I don't want to die.
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And that's that!
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I told Lup to choose me, so...you needn't worry.
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[they
sound like they're sulking a little. god. stupid.]
...sorry. I just - I shouldn't have gotten so worked up. That's not really fair to you either, when you're the one who's going to be... you know...
[committing a murder... doing all the hard work...?]
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[also, i'm giving you a memory.]
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[—have time, they would say, if they had enough time to get the words out before the stardust engulfed them and the memory began to play out before their eyes.
...
why is harrow's life suffering. god. god!!! this canon is so mean to her! so fucking mean!! all this to say, even with the way vulpecula's expression is obscured by their veil, they seem affected by the memory.]
Harrow...
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...He felt so differently about all of it than I expected him to.
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All Ortus cared about was his poetry, and I forced him to be my cavalier, and I put him in the situation that eventually led to his death for my own personal, petty reason. He would have been well within his rights to hate me.
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so. they start to say something (though, again, i don't know what would be), and a convenient shower of stardust cuts them off.
...vulpecula goes very still and very quiet.]
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I thought so. But we do not need to speak of it.
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[they seem. a little awkward? embarrassed, maybe? who wouldn't be embarrassed over someone witnessing them forget they were missing a leg and falling over. damn.]
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These memories are inconvenient at times.
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[they sigh heavily.]
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I'm glad.
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You are?
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[me, terrified now?]
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[something something "hotel staff can't be your friends"]
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