Eclipse | Archive of Our Own

After a particularly bad family dinner, Harrow and Ianthe have a conversation about grief

“Ten thousand years to learn anything and everything there is to know about necromancy, and I cannot imagine spending more than a second of it pining over Ortus.” Harrow said. She studied her fingernails, where the keratin met split flesh. There was a growing pain in her skull, just deep to her pterion, and a trickle of blood was worming its way out of her ear.

here is a deeply, wildly self indulgent fic I wrote where Harrow and Ianthe kind of sort of but like, very opaquely, talk about their feelings, kind of. ft Harrow (lobotamized), Ortus Nigenad (contemplated), the Saint of Patience (covered in soup) and Ianthe (being Ianthe)