[she'll open the door. messy face paint, obvious she was crying, but not currently crying.
also - welcome to hell. harrow's room is a spartan cloisters, like the darkest, gothiest, most uncomfortable monastery you’ve ever seen, with dark drapes everywhere and the only light coming from candles on walls and tables. the walls are stone, it's drafty and cold, and the only decoration is bones.
in the center of a room is a large and dramatic bed with a dark veil all around it. the drapes can be closed but the bed is not soft. there are bone decorations all around the frame of the bed. there’s also an old fashioned wood writing desk with some paper, pens, and books, and weirdly a couple titty mags. in the corner there’s a little chair (bone themed) for reading in, and a fairly small closet that contains a lot of black outfits and a little station for doing face paint.
finally, there's just a lot of skeletons all around? some complete skeletons standing or leaning against furniture, some bone fragments or broken skeletons haphazardly all around, some skeletons just hanging from the ceiling, just a pile of skeletons in the corner.]
Hmm. I am a bit surprised. You say I must be tired of well-wishers, but frankly...I did not precisely cover myself in glory, behaving in such a manner.
Sheila is special. I've never met anyone who didn't like her. To me, she's something like a second mother. My own mother is long dead, and wasn't...much like Sheila is to begin with.
I could not turn any of you away, when it is kind of you to care. All the same, I suspect many of you will return to those you are closest to and discuss how I am rather an impetuous child who tried to force suspicion to fall on an unrelated person at the last minute, and I would not blame you for doing so. So it is a bit hard to take the kindness when I suspect it is similar to the kindness one would show to an inept distressed puppy.
You did what anyone would do when it's someone they care about on the line. I am not saying that it is right, but morality is something that goes out the window the second we all vote for someone to be put to death over something that is usually just suspicions.
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also - welcome to hell. harrow's room is a spartan cloisters, like the darkest, gothiest, most uncomfortable monastery you’ve ever seen, with dark drapes everywhere and the only light coming from candles on walls and tables. the walls are stone, it's drafty and cold, and the only decoration is bones.
in the center of a room is a large and dramatic bed with a dark veil all around it. the drapes can be closed but the bed is not soft. there are bone decorations all around the frame of the bed. there’s also an old fashioned wood writing desk with some paper, pens, and books, and weirdly a couple titty mags. in the corner there’s a little chair (bone themed) for reading in, and a fairly small closet that contains a lot of black outfits and a little station for doing face paint.
finally, there's just a lot of skeletons all around? some complete skeletons standing or leaning against furniture, some bone fragments or broken skeletons haphazardly all around, some skeletons just hanging from the ceiling, just a pile of skeletons in the corner.]
Hello.
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but when the door opens, he'll lift his hand in a small wave. ]
You are probably tired of people checking in.
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[she's not necessarily tired of it, but. it's complicated.]
Is that what you're doing? Checking in?
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[ an understatement. but he doesn't really know enough of harrow's feelings to say anything else about it. ]
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[ even if it's just for an hour. ]
... but going by your friends, I guess you are used to being surrounded by people who love you.
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[love starved orphan hours over here.]
...I suppose the people I met on the station are a bit - like that.
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[ they all sort of lost their minds at the end of trial there ]
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Sheila is special. I've never met anyone who didn't like her. To me, she's something like a second mother. My own mother is long dead, and wasn't...much like Sheila is to begin with.
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Mm. She's always been nice. Good sense of humor. [ ... ] Someone warm.
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[okay, she'll let him, though she glances away.]
I could not turn any of you away, when it is kind of you to care. All the same, I suspect many of you will return to those you are closest to and discuss how I am rather an impetuous child who tried to force suspicion to fall on an unrelated person at the last minute, and I would not blame you for doing so. So it is a bit hard to take the kindness when I suspect it is similar to the kindness one would show to an inept distressed puppy.
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You did what anyone would do when it's someone they care about on the line. I am not saying that it is right, but morality is something that goes out the window the second we all vote for someone to be put to death over something that is usually just suspicions.
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But who else would we act desperately for, other than the people we care about?
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