[It's nasty, but probably explains a little better why, in the other memory Vira saw, Harrow was so intent on learning whether Gideon had really forgiven her. For all of this - for the nastiness of their childhood, for her inability to let go of the one person who was also there and had seen everything, for using that person as her whipping girl rather than admit all she wanted was a friend.
But yeah, no, she just thinks they're talking about Ortus. And she has plenty of reasons to feel guilty about Ortus. But Vira's words don't exactly apply to that situation. So - why is it that she feels so strongly that they do?
She's a little struck off balance, grateful for the admission even if it's hard to understand. She feared for so long anyone seeing a softer side of her, and now she's strangely afraid of been seen for her calcified ugliness, only partially shed.]
Thank you. I am grateful. I suppose that I. . . that I always knew how to lie, and manipulate, and command since I was a child, but somehow I never learned to think to ask.
[ Vira doesn't look upon her past with any great guilt, and while (deeply) judgmental of those she takes as fools—she doubts there's any ugliness in Harrow's past that would prove too much.
But there is something frightening, putting those vulnerable moments out and seeing if people change the way they view you after. She wonders when she grew afraid. She didn't used to be.
She lets out a soft sigh, settling herself. ]
It's more difficult to ask, isn't it? To leave yourself open to rejection.
[ She does get it, even if she is self-assured. It's one thing to be ignored by a stranger. It's another to be turned down from someone you respect and care for.
But whatever she says once again gets cut off by a belated memshare. (13:40-17:20) i'm sorry gbf is so SO anime but i wanted a bad memory
In any case. The moment comes—the culmination of your lies, your schemes. You have spent the last six years as an immaculate commander, an impartial arbitrator, a respected lord, and you would give up all the status in the world for this one, singular opportunity.
This is how it should go: you convince Katalina to stay, spinning together some sad story about how the island needs the sacrifice of a true knight. You tell her you can barter for immunity for her beloved comrades, who have been on the run for so long. You dangle what the Empire's army wants in front of their noses, just so you have another piece on the board, and everything goes as it should. Katalina—beautiful Katalina who can be kind and brilliant and so incredibly stupid—will agree to your terms. She feels guilt over what she did to you, after all. She shouldn't, but she does, and you will use that if you must.
The only space you've left for her in the skies is next to you. But there is a girl wreathed in blue who is somehow, slowly, certainly convincing Katalina to leave you.
Again.
"Vira, I won't give up!"
And you won't stand for it—these people are dregs, liars, muck that sucks at Katalina's feet and drags her down. You drop the sweetness from your voice—the honeyed words you save only for Katalina—and for a moment, the empty, steely part of you speaks instead. It has always been your more genuine self, the person you were before Katalina. The resigned, solitary girl you have always been.
"Oh, really?" (It's tiresome. Don't skyfarers ever get tired of spouting such fatuous nonsense?) "Then I'm afraid I'll have to get rid of you completely."
There is no hesitation in you. You'll rip these parasitic bonds that have tangled Katalina up, and you'll never, ever ever be apart again. Even if it's all lies. Even if you've spent six years in miserable loneliness, even if she surely has not thought of you with all the aching, devouring longing that you have, even if she feels so guilty looking at you that she could not even visit you once on this citadel that you have no choice but to call home. (You do not know if she loves you back—you don't ask yourself if that matters.)
Even so, all you want is to be beside her. It's all you've ever wanted, because she is all you've ever had, and you do not think you can survive the loss of your entire world a second time. So you'll fight, and you'll raze everything down until it's just the two of you, and as Luminiera's great power whips through you, warping your armor, filling your mind and body with a manic, unearthly energy—
You smile, and you fight, and inevitably, Katalina choose them and either way, you lose. ]
It should frighten her to see this side of Vira. To have evidence to suggest that Vira is this used to putting on personas, of manipulating and betraying, that she looks at other people this way only as a means to an end. An end which is possessive and terrifying.
But she doesn't really feel any of that. This is the girl who remained calm through all of the fighting she had to do on their behalf. The girl who offered to cut off her own arm for them. The girl who after, cool and confident as ever, helped toss aside cookies so Takeru wouldn't have to eat them.
She doesn't think the Vira she's seeing here represents all there is to her. She admitted to her own faults - lies and betrayals and manipulations - and Harrowhark cannot judge her. She has done ugly things. Her existence is itself an ugly thing. And she has tried and tried to find a meaning to wrap herself around, to motivate her continue living. She has a sense that Vira is the same; that these are the actions of a person who has nothing else.
How lonely it must be, to love someone who can leave you behind.
She blinks back the memory as it fades, returning to their living quarters.]
[ She's back to staring at the wall of their room, staring out at nothing. And there isn't as much shame or regret in her expression as there should be, a conflicted look in her eyes before she blinks over at Harrow. ]
I do.
[ She lets out a humorless puff of laughter. ]
The fact that I could even forget her... [ Awful. It's awful of her. ] In any case—as you can see, I've taken some extreme measures in the past. I would bet that almost everyone here has.
[Vira's lack of regret only makes her more curious - it's not really manipulation or betrayal that makes Harrow assume Vira would but just the fact that it's. Such a desperate and reckless plan. Even if she doesn't fully understand it, it seems so - unlike the calm and collected Vira she knows. But do any of them really know all there is to each other?]
[ She has, generally speaking, glazed over the exact details of her wish since coming here. But after a moment, she answers. ]
It's for my own sake, if anything. I wanted for nothing to stand between us ever again. I know it sounds juvenile, but it is my wish all the same.
[ She is not ashamed of it, though there's a bit of uncertainty. ]
...What all do you hope to accomplish here, Harrowhark? From all that I've seen, you already seem to have power and status.
[ She knows those aren't the only motivations out there, and doesn't expect Harrow's wish to be simple, but viewing her memories, she's left curious. ]
It doesn't sound juvenile. I couldn't judge your wish.
[She doesn't really hesitate to answer - she hasn't told many people what hers is, but Vira isn't one of the people she minds knowing.]
This may sound odd, but I don't know what my wish is. [. . .] The Lyctoral process was difficult for me. It took me many months to convalesce, after that battle with Cytherea. It was at some point during that process that I agreed to this. When I regained coherence, I could recall agreeing, but not why.
At some point in my convalescence, I suppose I also . . . [she sounds kind of confused here]. . . anticipated that there would later be gaps in my recollection. I wrote a series of letters to myself with instructions to follow. I know it was me who wrote them - they were written in my personal cipher, in my own blood. They accurately predicted that my Lyctorhood would be a failure, that I would be unable to complete the consumption of my cavalier's soul, and instead set forth guidelines to follow to keep me alive and to keep me from interfering in some vague "work" I had intended to accomplish.
So it is something of a mystery to me, as well, aside that my wish likely relates to that "work." I suppose it must seem ridiculous, to follow vague instructions in a letter simply because they were written in my own hand.
[ It explains a bit of what's happened so far. Not that Vira can really admit as much without causing Harrow to faint, but she shakes her head gently. ]
..No. [ it's not ridiculous, considering how Vira makes her choices in life ] If anything, I would encourage you to follow your heart. You may not remember everything that's happened in your past, but you are still forged from those moments. If you listen to your instinct... your feelings, then I think that is direction enough.
[ Harrow didn't seem to be aware of her own memories, but she still shared a certain empathy borne from her forgotten past. ]
[Does it? Vira's probably smart enough to pick up on how it very much seems like Harrow's current fucked up memories are something she, at some point, knew would happen to her, and to speculate from there. But Harrow can't really concentrate on these details or put them together; it gives her a headache when she tries.]
In some ways, I think it's easier. I have always done my duty to the Ninth. Now I do my duty to my own self, fulfilling the bargain that was made. I never have to doubt whether it was worth it, or fear losing my chance.
[. . .]
Despair has said that they can do something to correct the problem with my memories. I've been trying to decide whether it's a good idea or not.
[ She's seen enough pieces that she can put together a rough idea. And she looks a little conflicted, resting her fingers against her cheek in thought for a moment. ]
[She sighs, thoughtful for a moment. It would be nice not to have random brain aneurysms? But.]
During my convalescence I was in a state of. . . despondency, as great as I have ever known. [And given she was suicidal at the age of ten, that's saying something.] I was afflicted with phantom emotions I could hardly understand, but it kept me bedridden, useless. Eventually it gave way to a sort of productive numbness. I think it is only in the past few weeks that I have begun to feel something like my old self again.
I fear reopening a wound that will leave me in a state where I can be of no help to anyone here. I suppose it would be productive for despair indulgence, but little else.
And I also. . . [She looks down at her hands, as though trying to remember something.]
The letter I wrote myself. My own instructions were clear not to try to fix it. It was said in a way which was - compelling to me, I suppose.
[She'll recite, from memory: ]
"Understand that I envy you more than I have ever envied anyone, and that I look upon your birth as a blessing. Look upon me as a Harrowhark who was handed the first genuine choice of our lives; the only choice ever given where we had free will to say, No, and free will to say, Yes. Accept that in this instance I have chosen to say, No."
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chevaleros) wrote2021-02-08 10:30 pm
no subject
But yeah, no, she just thinks they're talking about Ortus. And she has plenty of reasons to feel guilty about Ortus. But Vira's words don't exactly apply to that situation. So - why is it that she feels so strongly that they do?
She's a little struck off balance, grateful for the admission even if it's hard to understand. She feared for so long anyone seeing a softer side of her, and now she's strangely afraid of been seen for her calcified ugliness, only partially shed.]
Thank you. I am grateful. I suppose that I. . . that I always knew how to lie, and manipulate, and command since I was a child, but somehow I never learned to think to ask.
no subject
But there is something frightening, putting those vulnerable moments out and seeing if people change the way they view you after. She wonders when she grew afraid. She didn't used to be.
She lets out a soft sigh, settling herself. ]
It's more difficult to ask, isn't it? To leave yourself open to rejection.
no subject
[That has been - such the core of so many of her mistakes, here too.]
no subject
But whatever she says once again gets cut off by a belated memshare. (13:40-17:20) i'm sorry gbf is so SO anime but i wanted a bad memory
In any case. The moment comes—the culmination of your lies, your schemes. You have spent the last six years as an immaculate commander, an impartial arbitrator, a respected lord, and you would give up all the status in the world for this one, singular opportunity.
This is how it should go: you convince Katalina to stay, spinning together some sad story about how the island needs the sacrifice of a true knight. You tell her you can barter for immunity for her beloved comrades, who have been on the run for so long. You dangle what the Empire's army wants in front of their noses, just so you have another piece on the board, and everything goes as it should. Katalina—beautiful Katalina who can be kind and brilliant and so incredibly stupid—will agree to your terms. She feels guilt over what she did to you, after all. She shouldn't, but she does, and you will use that if you must.
The only space you've left for her in the skies is next to you. But there is a girl wreathed in blue who is somehow, slowly, certainly convincing Katalina to leave you.
Again.
"Vira, I won't give up!"
And you won't stand for it—these people are dregs, liars, muck that sucks at Katalina's feet and drags her down. You drop the sweetness from your voice—the honeyed words you save only for Katalina—and for a moment, the empty, steely part of you speaks instead. It has always been your more genuine self, the person you were before Katalina. The resigned, solitary girl you have always been.
"Oh, really?" (It's tiresome. Don't skyfarers ever get tired of spouting such fatuous nonsense?) "Then I'm afraid I'll have to get rid of you completely."
There is no hesitation in you. You'll rip these parasitic bonds that have tangled Katalina up, and you'll never, ever ever be apart again. Even if it's all lies. Even if you've spent six years in miserable loneliness, even if she surely has not thought of you with all the aching, devouring longing that you have, even if she feels so guilty looking at you that she could not even visit you once on this citadel that you have no choice but to call home. (You do not know if she loves you back—you don't ask yourself if that matters.)
Even so, all you want is to be beside her. It's all you've ever wanted, because she is all you've ever had, and you do not think you can survive the loss of your entire world a second time. So you'll fight, and you'll raze everything down until it's just the two of you, and as Luminiera's great power whips through you, warping your armor, filling your mind and body with a manic, unearthly energy—
You smile, and you fight, and inevitably, Katalina choose them and either way, you lose. ]
no subject
It should frighten her to see this side of Vira. To have evidence to suggest that Vira is this used to putting on personas, of manipulating and betraying, that she looks at other people this way only as a means to an end. An end which is possessive and terrifying.
But she doesn't really feel any of that. This is the girl who remained calm through all of the fighting she had to do on their behalf. The girl who offered to cut off her own arm for them. The girl who after, cool and confident as ever, helped toss aside cookies so Takeru wouldn't have to eat them.
She doesn't think the Vira she's seeing here represents all there is to her. She admitted to her own faults - lies and betrayals and manipulations - and Harrowhark cannot judge her. She has done ugly things. Her existence is itself an ugly thing. And she has tried and tried to find a meaning to wrap herself around, to motivate her continue living. She has a sense that Vira is the same; that these are the actions of a person who has nothing else.
How lonely it must be, to love someone who can leave you behind.
She blinks back the memory as it fades, returning to their living quarters.]
. . . Do you remember her now? I wasn't certain.
no subject
I do.
[ She lets out a humorless puff of laughter. ]
The fact that I could even forget her... [ Awful. It's awful of her. ] In any case—as you can see, I've taken some extreme measures in the past. I would bet that almost everyone here has.
no subject
Certainly. You know that I have.
. . . Is your wish for her sake?
no subject
It's for my own sake, if anything. I wanted for nothing to stand between us ever again. I know it sounds juvenile, but it is my wish all the same.
[ She is not ashamed of it, though there's a bit of uncertainty. ]
...What all do you hope to accomplish here, Harrowhark? From all that I've seen, you already seem to have power and status.
[ She knows those aren't the only motivations out there, and doesn't expect Harrow's wish to be simple, but viewing her memories, she's left curious. ]
no subject
[She doesn't really hesitate to answer - she hasn't told many people what hers is, but Vira isn't one of the people she minds knowing.]
This may sound odd, but I don't know what my wish is. [. . .] The Lyctoral process was difficult for me. It took me many months to convalesce, after that battle with Cytherea. It was at some point during that process that I agreed to this. When I regained coherence, I could recall agreeing, but not why.
At some point in my convalescence, I suppose I also . . . [she sounds kind of confused here]. . . anticipated that there would later be gaps in my recollection. I wrote a series of letters to myself with instructions to follow. I know it was me who wrote them - they were written in my personal cipher, in my own blood. They accurately predicted that my Lyctorhood would be a failure, that I would be unable to complete the consumption of my cavalier's soul, and instead set forth guidelines to follow to keep me alive and to keep me from interfering in some vague "work" I had intended to accomplish.
So it is something of a mystery to me, as well, aside that my wish likely relates to that "work." I suppose it must seem ridiculous, to follow vague instructions in a letter simply because they were written in my own hand.
no subject
..No. [ it's not ridiculous, considering how Vira makes her choices in life ] If anything, I would encourage you to follow your heart. You may not remember everything that's happened in your past, but you are still forged from those moments. If you listen to your instinct... your feelings, then I think that is direction enough.
[ Harrow didn't seem to be aware of her own memories, but she still shared a certain empathy borne from her forgotten past. ]
Still, it must be difficult, not knowing.
no subject
In some ways, I think it's easier. I have always done my duty to the Ninth. Now I do my duty to my own self, fulfilling the bargain that was made. I never have to doubt whether it was worth it, or fear losing my chance.
[. . .]
Despair has said that they can do something to correct the problem with my memories. I've been trying to decide whether it's a good idea or not.
no subject
...Why hesitate? If I may ask.
no subject
[She sighs, thoughtful for a moment. It would be nice not to have random brain aneurysms? But.]
During my convalescence I was in a state of. . . despondency, as great as I have ever known. [And given she was suicidal at the age of ten, that's saying something.] I was afflicted with phantom emotions I could hardly understand, but it kept me bedridden, useless. Eventually it gave way to a sort of productive numbness. I think it is only in the past few weeks that I have begun to feel something like my old self again.
I fear reopening a wound that will leave me in a state where I can be of no help to anyone here. I suppose it would be productive for despair indulgence, but little else.
And I also. . . [She looks down at her hands, as though trying to remember something.]
The letter I wrote myself. My own instructions were clear not to try to fix it. It was said in a way which was - compelling to me, I suppose.
[She'll recite, from memory: ]
"Understand that I envy you more than I have ever envied anyone, and that I look upon your birth as a blessing. Look upon me as a Harrowhark who was handed the first genuine choice of our lives; the only choice ever given where we had free will to say, No, and free will to say, Yes. Accept that in this instance I have chosen to say, No."