( harrow is immediately startled. the volume and force behind the voice was jarring, as even gideon nav in her most excitable moments usually lapsed merely into wide eyes and occasional, nonsensical, awe-struck mutterings. she turns to face the source of the exclamations and is hit by the impact of a secondary shock: that they had come from nothing other than what appears to be a reanimated skeleton.
except — that would be impossible? blank, wide-eyed shock slowly transmogrifies into the furrowed brow and narrowed eyes of curiosity and confusion. harrow has spent the vast majority of her life among her house, around three-fourths of which were the reanimated bones of their penitent dead, carefully restored to function so they could continue to serve their house. but even as intimately familiar with skeletons as this prodigious bone adept is, she knows that it's impossible to conjure a construct that can speak. mostly because a skeleton lacks all of the softer, fleshier bits which allow such a thing.
it's not that harrow is ignoring what he said; she heard it, and she's thinking about it, but for now she moves without thinking, stalking forward and then around to one side and the other to peer more closely at the construct. she thinks immediately that it's a contradiction: the anatomy is off in a way that makes it seem like a child's first, uninformed attempt, but what child can accomplish something that harrow would have thought was impossible? and why is it wearing — whatever it's wearing? they almost look like cohort crimsons, but...
okay, she's finished objectifying papyrus (in the way only a bone adept could), so she slowly looks up to him, hand lifting to her chin. ) You've truly never seen a necromancer before?
( she would think it odd, but, now that she thinks of it... she doesn't seem to sense any trace thanergy from this construct? how does that work — )
please do not apologize... i love this so much
except — that would be impossible? blank, wide-eyed shock slowly transmogrifies into the furrowed brow and narrowed eyes of curiosity and confusion. harrow has spent the vast majority of her life among her house, around three-fourths of which were the reanimated bones of their penitent dead, carefully restored to function so they could continue to serve their house. but even as intimately familiar with skeletons as this prodigious bone adept is, she knows that it's impossible to conjure a construct that can speak. mostly because a skeleton lacks all of the softer, fleshier bits which allow such a thing.
it's not that harrow is ignoring what he said; she heard it, and she's thinking about it, but for now she moves without thinking, stalking forward and then around to one side and the other to peer more closely at the construct. she thinks immediately that it's a contradiction: the anatomy is off in a way that makes it seem like a child's first, uninformed attempt, but what child can accomplish something that harrow would have thought was impossible? and why is it wearing — whatever it's wearing? they almost look like cohort crimsons, but...
okay, she's finished objectifying papyrus (in the way only a bone adept could), so she slowly looks up to him, hand lifting to her chin. ) You've truly never seen a necromancer before?
( she would think it odd, but, now that she thinks of it... she doesn't seem to sense any trace thanergy from this construct? how does that work — )