"By all means," Harrow says calmly. As the other woman enters, she bows.
When she's arrayed in all her tarnished glory, it's easy to overlook how short Harrow is, and hard to see how painfully thin. Her hood is up, casting her painted face in shadow; within the black pits around her eyes are brilliant whites and even blacker blacks. Her expressions are blunted by the paint, but she's also poker-faced at the moment.
"Greetings. I am Harrowhark Nonagesimus. Thank you for the gift of your presence."
Her eyes are locked on Ciri's from the moment she enters; without a flicker of her abyssal gaze, she tells the red-haired woman, "Give us our privacy, Gideon. Guard the door."
no subject
When she's arrayed in all her tarnished glory, it's easy to overlook how short Harrow is, and hard to see how painfully thin. Her hood is up, casting her painted face in shadow; within the black pits around her eyes are brilliant whites and even blacker blacks. Her expressions are blunted by the paint, but she's also poker-faced at the moment.
"Greetings. I am Harrowhark Nonagesimus. Thank you for the gift of your presence."
Her eyes are locked on Ciri's from the moment she enters; without a flicker of her abyssal gaze, she tells the red-haired woman, "Give us our privacy, Gideon. Guard the door."