We spent our lives, running through the wasteland
Word Count → 376 :: Back-dated to the 11th. Harrow is sat in Haels lap, half asleep >.>
Pain haunted her at every moment along with shame and the knowledge she was nothing more then a useless failure. Young as she was the young D'angelo held herself in high regard, expected much of herself and pushed herself as far as she could in the areas that interested her; only that wasn't good enough. She had neglected basic self defence, seeing combat as something to be left to lower members and males, as if the task of fighting was beneath her and she's now paid the price of her ignorance with the loss of her left arm. A small, nagging part of her kept whispering her arm was beyond repair, even if the strangely pretty dog had attempted his best to set it, the midnight girl knew deep down it was a lost cause and she believed she deserved it and the pain for her own neglect and arrogance.
Suffice to say, she couldn't bring herself to return home and in the spare of the moment she had feigned memory loss. As entertaining as it was at the start, she was now growing unsure of her choice on how to handle the situation, especially with Hael having dubbed her 'Nahyt' for she had no memories and little to no belongings and was found in the darkness of the night. Shifting her position slightly she snuggled closer against the brindle hybrid, welcoming his warmth alongside of the fire burning before her; having only her art equipment, Omi and Rosemary, there was little more she could do to keep warm and no matter how she tried she couldn't sleep on the ground with her arm and so such an arrangement had come about. Whilst to an onlooker they may have looked like a couple, Harrow was still sulking over the fact the ex-slave had guessed her age all to quickly and begun treating her like a runaway kid and being all to over protective. The male's motives were easy to understand and that's why she liked him thus far; an escaped slave taking pity on an injured, abandoned child with no memory was nothing more then the slave looking for self-satisfaction, helping another where he couldn't help himself out of his own situation.
And if we die, I'll meet you up in heaven
'Cause you're beautiful.
Table by the Mentors!
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