necrosaint | deer country: ic inbox.

[ This is hard. It is not the hardest thing Harrow has ever done, but it is—it is a big ask. It takes her a minute.

But Illarion has been kind when he needs not be. She has done nothing to earn the kindness and yet has received it.

So: ]

I will.

[He knows it is a difficult thing he asks, because it was a difficult thing so often asked of him. Putting the web of social obligation to work against one's own sucking self-despite sometimes--sometimes--made it easier.

That she will try is a little light in the gloom of Gideon's portentous return.]

Thank you.

Might I ask you a question about the necromancy of the Nine Houses, pertaining to this situation?

Ask anything you like.

[ "about necromancy" is, hopefully, implied. but teaching things about necromancy and explaining theories is so much better than feelings! ]

I always welcome discussions of necromantic theory, and your viewpoint is much appreciated by me.

[There was a certain calculation to his request, after all...]

Am I correct in understanding that revenants such as I am--a soul in its own body--are rarely created?

Yes. I am not sure if I have ever truly seen one before, only read about them.

[ But at least it's psychic conversation she's enjoying now! Stasya is even wagging her tail a little bit. Hopefully. Good job, bird brother. ]

I am good at beguiling corpses, making them move, but I do not have the capacity—I did not have the capacity, I am not sure if I do now—to ensoul them. I had hoped to learn, in order to restore Gideon to her own body once I found it, but did not get the chance—

[ whoops, there's grief leaking through again. that one she can identify. she's trying to slam the emotions shut again, though. ]

Not yet, I would say. You did not get the chance yet.

[Grief's a leg-breaker that way. He feels a dim echo of regret at not being able to lead her as far away as she deserves from this awful topic--

Not yet, at least. Not yet.]

But then one might reasonably say that how such a revenant feels, or thinks of the world, is not a well-studied topic. Yes?

I seem to have been beaten to it.

[ But that's not the point, because— ]

Yes, it is not. Oh, what a tragic sentence that is. You are correct.

Even so. The God of Necromancers is outside his own domain; his works may be revised.

[Likely not what she wants to hear--it may not even be reassuring--but it seems to him it must be said.]

It is a tragic event, to find oneself that way.

If it would help--if you think I am not mistaken in drawing an analogy between Gideon's state and my own--I would offer my own heart and being for your study.

[ Harrow was definitely going to say something about the King Undying and what he had done, and how he may or may not have done it, but she is instead shocked into silence before she can do so. That silence hangs for a second or two, three, five ... ]

Are you certain. That is a great trust, and I think you do not wish to be—fully living again, permanently? I am not sure if I would be able to reverse any theorem, though generally they can be undone. I suppose here the ultimate solution is killing me, as I'd come back but my theorems would be stopped ...

[A younger, living version of him would have regarded that silence with anxiety. His older self would know better--

Dead, he wishes, in a strange way, he could feel the biting twinge of worry that he's misstepped.]

I am certain. I don't think there is any way to restore me entirely to life--but I am comprehensible enough to your sort of necromancy that I may be a good object of study.

[Both God and another of his Saints had been able to wreak changes on him, after all--ones he'd thought impossible. Ones that like were impossible, on Nephele.]

[ And what is Harrow but God's most powerful Saint? It is true and she is proud of it: she may not be the most trained, but she is the only one who could do necromancy in the River, and she will hold on to that. ]

I am beyond grateful. Anything you wish of me I will grant you if it is in my power to do so ...

[ at which point she has to get awkward again, and hesitate before adding with a cadence of nervousness that Stasya definitely shares ]

... especially if it were permissible to ask of you one more favor?

Beyond permissible, shrikeling.

And, [an unmissable humor enters his tone, flowing from Iskierka to Stasya; it's a gentle thing, shared with her and not directed at her,] if it will help your worries to have our obligations codified, I can even write the contract for it.

Though I would not, ordinarily, for someone dear.

Could I — stay with you, for a while. In your home by the lake.

[ her speech might be halting, but Stasya is sure to make it clear that as awkward as it is it is also very earnest and almost needy. ]

I am not sure if I have anywhere else to go at this juncture, and you are—you have become very close to family. Which ... means it is fine, as if we are family we do not need a legal document, though a letter ensuring I can demonstrate you gave prior consent would be useful in case ...

[ in case kiriona gets angry or something. ]

... someone from the 8th House shows up or something.

[That halting request wakes an echo in him loud enough it would steal his breath, if he breathed.

She reminds him so much of himself, past and present.]

Yes. My sanctuary is open to you.

[There's a weight of ritual on the words.]

Though it be poor and unkempt right now. I will see to it that it's safe for your use.

The letter's a small thing, too. I'll have it written and witnessed for you before we begin.

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