probe | Audience: Harrowhark Nonagesimus

[It just wrecks her a little, because they know all about her and her completely fucked up life, and she can't think of one thing she's ever done that would make someone say something like that. Surely anyone who's seen her story the way they have knows the truth - what a brittle exoskeleton around such an emptiness.

She hunches her shoulders a little, stubborn, because being angry about it is easier than contemplating the idea of being known and accepted.]

If you insist on thinking so.

[well. they know something about it being easier to be angry, at least.]

I do. I can believe it until you believe it yourself.

[She pauses for a long moment, not sure what to say to any of that.]

May I ask you a favor?

For sure, what's up?

[. . . She's a little embarrassed.]

Might I hear you play?

[aw, harrow. there's a glint of teeth from under the hood - they're smiling.]

Haha, of course you can. Never going to pass up a chance to show off. Any requests? [they reach over for the violin again.]

I doubt you'll know any songs I do. Nor do I care to hear any I know. Play me something you enjoy playing.

[for a moment, they think about it, and then, they start playing. obviously without the piano accompaniment, but.

their face is hidden, but they are very clearly in the music. they lose themselves to it, all the way through.]

[Wow. She just sort of relaxes, listening to the music, obviously appreciating it - Wrath is talented, it's hard not to enjoy hearing it.]

[when they come to a stop, finally, they sigh out slow, relaxing themselves.]

... It's good to know I'm not super out of practice. [they say, glancing over at harrow.]

Not at all. Your playing is beautiful. You're very talented.

[something under their hood twitches.]

Aw, thanks. Sweet of you. [they hold the violin very gently, almost like cradling a baby.]

Do you play anything?

Not unless you count bones.

[A wry smile at that? Does that even count as a joke?]

We don't go in much for the arts on the Ninth, I'm afraid. The closest we come are the cloister bells and the hymnals of the black anchorites.

[that makes them laugh, though.]

Bet you'd be great at the xylophone. [harrow is not going to recognize the bar of spooky scary skeletons that they play on the violin, but they do it regardless.] Wow, sounds pretty uh, Fantasy Catholic of you.

Fantasy Catholic?

[What an odd thing to say.]

Well, we are a religious order.

[yeah it sure is an odd thing to say, haha.]

I'm glad you're getting to experience a little bit of culture otherwise then! Maybe I can teach you to play something sometime.

. . . I might like that. It feels a little odd, to not have my necromancy to work on. The logic and technical work of an instrument might suffice to fill the gap.

[oh, that genuinely seems to make them happy?]

For sure! For sure. If you want lessons, I'm you Avatar. [...] Maybe I can wrangle Despair into helping out, too, sometime?

Despair plays as well?

[I saw that thread. I just don't know that Harrow did.]

Yeah, they do. They're pretty good, but don't tell them I said that.

Despair is rather. . . [How to put it. When the actual answer is that she wants them to like her but instead gets a sense of faint disapproval.] I didn't think I ought to take up their time with frivolous conversation.

You can say pretentious, it's fine.

[be nice, wrath.] They don't like small talk, but I'm pretty sure they like you? And it wouldn't be you taking up time, I can ask them.

They're like, incapable of saying no to me, so!

[She didn't say pretentious (how could she, she's so pretentious) and she didn't say she wanted to be liked!! How uncool, to care about that!!!! She gets obviously a little pinched and embarrassed when Wrath says they like her.]

That isn't. . . what I meant. I don't want to waste their time. I've already monopolized it what with all of my. [Gestures at her head? Brain problems?] Tedious questions of how to fulfill my end of the bargain given my inability to actually fixate on the type of memory I'm meant to fixate on.

[a very tiny giggle. wehehe.]

That's, uh. That's a losing battle, with them. [no, they will not explain that.] We can just leave them out of it. Do a girl's night with violins and uh, talking about bones, and death.

[Girl's night, huh? That sort of. . . startles her. It's somehow funny.]

When you said it would be a girl's night, the bones and death were self-evident.

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