(ooc: Please mind my warnings and opt-out post! I am willing to dance around triggering subjects for as long as I can but Harrow's canon is a minefield.)
Harried Harrow
It's a small, tightly wound young woman who steps off the ferry. She grinds her teeth as Yorick prattles along his introduction, cutting him off with clipped questions. Where is the inn, is there a map available, who (else) is in charge, and where can she buy some decent clothes, to begin with. She is disappointed but not surprised to learn that there is no necromantic family in charge here. Whatever hauntings this place seems to have are of a completely different nature.
At least it has thanergy to speak of. It isn't rich, like home or like the Mithraeum, but it isn't a void like space, or a crawling, shivering thalergy like the planets Mercymorn took her to. She can sense Death here, and it puts her at ease as she is finally given a stipend and left to her own devices.
Of course the first order of business is to purchase some proper clothes- trousers, a long skirt, long sleeves, and a cloak, all in the darkest colors available, as well as a veil. Her wiry, underfed frame isn't the easiest to fit but as long as her clothes don't literally fall off of her, it's good enough. Her skin is a sickly pale color, as though she's never seen true sunlight in her life, and in contrast her eyes are an inky black, nearly blending with her pupils. Her hair has that awkward look of someone who shore it close and then let it grow longer than they meant to, but she covers that with a hood as soon as possible.
Next, she can be found wherever a nerd might purchase a journal and writing utensils. Though the notebooks on offer immediately arrest her. She runs her fingertips over the pages, an awed look that she can't contain but is at least softened by her veil on her face.
"This is... real paper." She whispers it to herself, stirring her veil.
Knowledge is Power
Once she's done having a whole moment over Literal Actual Paper, What The Fuck, Harrow sets about her first order of business. Snooping. She intends to walk a full perimeter of the town, and then the island itself, to make a map.
Said map is being sketched with mathematical to-scale precision in the notebook she purchased. If there was a ready-made one available, she compares it to her own creation with a clicking, seemingly disapproving tongue.
Maybe someone should stop her before she just goes out into the wilderness to continue her cartography.
An Unfortunate encounter
(A bitch rolled a 6 so)
Too bad for Harrow, whoever managed to waylay her didn't keep it up forever, and she managed to scurry away into the woods to continue her investigation. Of course she isn't done by the time the sun goes down, and yes she does know about the Howler, she read the paper already thanks very much, she simply doesn't care.
She is alert to her surroundings at the least, listening through the din of wildlife (which is fucking weird, by the way) for any approaching sounds or changes. It is the quieting of such sounds she notices first, being used to overstimulation of a very different kind, she is sensitive to the lessening. Then she hears a soft but heavy step. Another.
She turns, intending to make sure there is a barrier of anything between herself and the approaching, something to slow it down as she reaches for her necromancy, starts to form theorums in her mind and settle them into her own bones. She also reaches into the ground around her, looking for any scraps or remnants of bones nearby. Human preferred, that she could use. She slows her breathing and does not speak, waiting for an opening.
Harrowhark Nonagesimus | The Locked Tomb
(ooc: Please mind my warnings and opt-out post! I am willing to dance around triggering subjects for as long as I can but Harrow's canon is a minefield.)
Harried Harrow
It's a small, tightly wound young woman who steps off the ferry. She grinds her teeth as Yorick prattles along his introduction, cutting him off with clipped questions. Where is the inn, is there a map available, who (else) is in charge, and where can she buy some decent clothes, to begin with. She is disappointed but not surprised to learn that there is no necromantic family in charge here. Whatever hauntings this place seems to have are of a completely different nature.
At least it has thanergy to speak of. It isn't rich, like home or like the Mithraeum, but it isn't a void like space, or a crawling, shivering thalergy like the planets Mercymorn took her to. She can sense Death here, and it puts her at ease as she is finally given a stipend and left to her own devices.
Of course the first order of business is to purchase some proper clothes- trousers, a long skirt, long sleeves, and a cloak, all in the darkest colors available, as well as a veil. Her wiry, underfed frame isn't the easiest to fit but as long as her clothes don't literally fall off of her, it's good enough. Her skin is a sickly pale color, as though she's never seen true sunlight in her life, and in contrast her eyes are an inky black, nearly blending with her pupils. Her hair has that awkward look of someone who shore it close and then let it grow longer than they meant to, but she covers that with a hood as soon as possible.
Next, she can be found wherever a nerd might purchase a journal and writing utensils. Though the notebooks on offer immediately arrest her. She runs her fingertips over the pages, an awed look that she can't contain but is at least softened by her veil on her face.
"This is... real paper." She whispers it to herself, stirring her veil.
Knowledge is Power
Once she's done having a whole moment over Literal Actual Paper, What The Fuck, Harrow sets about her first order of business. Snooping. She intends to walk a full perimeter of the town, and then the island itself, to make a map.
Said map is being sketched with mathematical to-scale precision in the notebook she purchased. If there was a ready-made one available, she compares it to her own creation with a clicking, seemingly disapproving tongue.
Maybe someone should stop her before she just goes out into the wilderness to continue her cartography.
An Unfortunate encounter (A bitch rolled a 6 so)
Too bad for Harrow, whoever managed to waylay her didn't keep it up forever, and she managed to scurry away into the woods to continue her investigation. Of course she isn't done by the time the sun goes down, and yes she does know about the Howler, she read the paper already thanks very much, she simply doesn't care.
She is alert to her surroundings at the least, listening through the din of wildlife (which is fucking weird, by the way) for any approaching sounds or changes. It is the quieting of such sounds she notices first, being used to overstimulation of a very different kind, she is sensitive to the lessening. Then she hears a soft but heavy step. Another.
She turns, intending to make sure there is a barrier of anything between herself and the approaching, something to slow it down as she reaches for her necromancy, starts to form theorums in her mind and settle them into her own bones. She also reaches into the ground around her, looking for any scraps or remnants of bones nearby. Human preferred, that she could use. She slows her breathing and does not speak, waiting for an opening.