Agree. He makes a lot of assumptions about people, and that is where he makes his mistakes. He seems to think I'm bright only because I "caught him," when all I actually did was notice the criminal mastermind had an enormous bruise on his forehead. I am offended to be praised for this.
[So. Who really cares what he thinks.]
You put together everything that actually took effort, but let him continue to assume he only has me to deal with.
I think most people assumed you told me what to do, which is fine, but a little insulting to me. I think I specifically don't do everything you tell me to do.
... You might too, becuase I think you should ask Despair to fix your brain. By the way, did you know they suggested that they'd simply "dispose" of you in other circumstances? I hate them.
That's just what they're like. They take memory very seriously.
[It's fine! She's not bothered by it.]
I'm not sure I ought to, though. We're getting down to the wire here, and there's so much at stake. I'm rather convinced if I fix it, I'll have a convalescence period we can't really afford. It was months before I regained actual coherence, after . . . after what happened.
Oh yes? They're just entitled to walk around saying certain people don't matter at all because they're less than perfect? That seems healthy. We should encourage that. I'm entitled to my opinion that Despair sucks, so there.
[he WILL Cry harder.]
Uh. Don't know that I can-- seems a cleaner way to do it.
[Rolling her eyes at this unreasonable view that just killing people because they have a swiss cheese brain is bad.]
. . . I wrote a letter to myself. Before I forgot. Well, actually it was twenty four letters, but I was instructed not to open any of them except the first until the circumstances written on the envelope came to pass.
[i mean, he gets it. it does feel very cool and good and sexy when a psycho thinks YOU'RE the special one deserving to live when they'd "dispose" of anyone else. just maybe every despair-fucker out there needs to get even a LITTLE self-esteem.]
Differing ones - I didn't understand most of them. If I met a particular person. If I was about to die. If Ianthe Tridentarius died. If the Ninth House was in mortal peril. The one with the sunglasses addressed to Ortus is one of them - I know my own hand and blood, even if it isn't written in my cipher - but I don't remember seeing that one and it makes even less sense than the others. [Oh yeah right all of these are also written in her own blood, that's a detail I think I forgot to mention. At least Molly is unlikely to find that as gross as most people would.]
What's relevant here is the letter addressed to me, upon my coherence. It instructed me that I was not permitted to die by suicide or carelessness, I was not permitted to ever return to the Ninth House, and that I was required to keep the sword on my person at all times, and that I would be unable to fully access the Lyctoral well. And I was forced to grant the favour of the chain to Ianthe, for reasons that will forever be a mystery to me, so long as I could confirm she hadn't undone the Sewn Tongue ritual I had performed on her.
And also . . .
[She'll close her eyes and just recite it.]
"You will think at this point that I have given you a terrible hand to play the game with. I am not unsympathetic. Nonetheless, understand that I envy you more than I have ever envied anyone, and that I look upon your birth as a blessing. Look upon me as a Harrowhark who was handed the first genuine choice of our lives; the only choice ever given where we had free will to say, No, and free will to say, Yes. Accept that in this instance I have chosen to say, No."
Letters in your own blood? I'll have to pick that one up. I suppose because I do write now.
[molly thinks a letter in your own blood slaps hard and is cool and is exactly the kind of drama he loves actually so yeah he does not think its gross
anyway
he just sits there for a second, tail swaying a bit, arms crossed. it isn't as if he doesn't get it? hadn't he made a similar choice? left something buried in a grave, because he'd been offered a chance at a clean slate. free will to say no, and he had taken it.]
I won't deny it's a cruel thing to ask. [...] I think, right now, you're a Harrowhark with a choice again. If there's an upside to this place, it's that you'll either walk out with a wish made, or dead.
[Well, he understood what she was saying, at least. She sighs, leans back, looks at the stars.]
The Harrowhark who wrote that letter couldn't possibly understand the person I am now, any more than I can understand her. I suppose I ought to understand the stakes. I suppose it's right to.
. . . But you really are going to have a bad Monday, Molly. I know that sounds ominous, but it's unfortunately true. I don't want to be. . . unavailable, even if there's little I could do.
Sometimes there's just no understanding your other, past selves. [mollymauk and his Past Self would fucking fight each other to death in a 7-11 parking lot, so.] But you're a different person. You've got to consider it for your own sake. You can take her advice, but you don't have to let it rule you. She was looking at a very different picture.
[...]
You do make that sound very ominous you know. [reaching over to ruffle her hair.] I'll be alright.
[Just letting him ruffle her hair, giving him a frown.]
Let's see what the picture looks like tomorrow. I do suspect if I do this I may need to rely on you for a little while. And I've done more than my share of that, I feel.
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[So. Who really cares what he thinks.]
You put together everything that actually took effort, but let him continue to assume he only has me to deal with.
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[Patting him on the cheek a little condescendingly.]
You're going to have a rough Monday again, I'm afraid.
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[sticking his tongue out.]
... You might too, becuase I think you should ask Despair to fix your brain. By the way, did you know they suggested that they'd simply "dispose" of you in other circumstances? I hate them.
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[It's fine! She's not bothered by it.]
I'm not sure I ought to, though. We're getting down to the wire here, and there's so much at stake. I'm rather convinced if I fix it, I'll have a convalescence period we can't really afford. It was months before I regained actual coherence, after . . . after what happened.
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[He's a little bothered by it!]
As for that, I don't think it's the same procedure.
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[Cry harder, Molly.]
What leads you to think so?
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[he WILL Cry harder.]
Uh. Don't know that I can-- seems a cleaner way to do it.
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. . . I wrote a letter to myself. Before I forgot. Well, actually it was twenty four letters, but I was instructed not to open any of them except the first until the circumstances written on the envelope came to pass.
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And what were the circumstances?
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What's relevant here is the letter addressed to me, upon my coherence. It instructed me that I was not permitted to die by suicide or carelessness, I was not permitted to ever return to the Ninth House, and that I was required to keep the sword on my person at all times, and that I would be unable to fully access the Lyctoral well. And I was forced to grant the favour of the chain to Ianthe, for reasons that will forever be a mystery to me, so long as I could confirm she hadn't undone the Sewn Tongue ritual I had performed on her.
And also . . .
[She'll close her eyes and just recite it.]
"You will think at this point that I have given you a terrible hand to play the game with. I am not unsympathetic. Nonetheless, understand that I envy you more than I have ever envied anyone, and that I look upon your birth as a blessing. Look upon me as a Harrowhark who was handed the first genuine choice of our lives; the only choice ever given where we had free will to say, No, and free will to say, Yes. Accept that in this instance I have chosen to say, No."
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[molly thinks a letter in your own blood slaps hard and is cool and is exactly the kind of drama he loves actually so yeah he does not think its gross
anyway
he just sits there for a second, tail swaying a bit, arms crossed. it isn't as if he doesn't get it? hadn't he made a similar choice? left something buried in a grave, because he'd been offered a chance at a clean slate. free will to say no, and he had taken it.]
I won't deny it's a cruel thing to ask. [...] I think, right now, you're a Harrowhark with a choice again. If there's an upside to this place, it's that you'll either walk out with a wish made, or dead.
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The Harrowhark who wrote that letter couldn't possibly understand the person I am now, any more than I can understand her. I suppose I ought to understand the stakes. I suppose it's right to.
. . . But you really are going to have a bad Monday, Molly. I know that sounds ominous, but it's unfortunately true. I don't want to be. . . unavailable, even if there's little I could do.
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[...]
You do make that sound very ominous you know. [reaching over to ruffle her hair.] I'll be alright.
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Let's see what the picture looks like tomorrow. I do suspect if I do this I may need to rely on you for a little while. And I've done more than my share of that, I feel.
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[just gently converting her to getting used to all his weird touchy feely stuff]
But alright. We'll think on it.
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