Chapter Text
It was only natural that Gideon Nav responded in vitriol in her presence. In a place surrounded by bone constructs and frail Ninth citizens; Harrow was the strongest. The brightest, not only in mind but in bone. With bone she reconstructed her own perfection, unbroken, smooth, and bright.
Comparatively Gideon Nav had no choice to confront their own impurities. Griddle’s bones were marred with cracked, callused at the sockets, and on her worse days oozed marrow.
In the Reverend’s Daughter’s light most bowed. Gideon spewed insults and crude ‘jokes.’ It was only natural Gideon Nav responded in this way. Not everyone has the intelligence to provide deference to their superior. It didn't matter; one way or another Gideon saw the splendor that was Harrow’s bones. And was surrounded by the splendor of her work.
So, the pathetic creature spewed hate as its only defense of self-worth.
As for Harrow, it was only natural that she responded in vitriol at her presence. Nav was a deformed scavenger. A creature that lived in spite of itself and as a result was as ugly as the spite it outran.
Harrow was born perfect, at the cost of her whole generation. All except this roach. Marred with the battle of the nuclear bomb that was dropped on when it was but a nymph.
She knew that for as long as they both lived this roach would look upon her blinding bones. And when the critter finally passed its exoskeleton stayed blinded by her perfect reconstruction.
The floor crumbled beneath the metacarpals of Gideon's feet. Nav’s skulls stared in probable disbelief. “You lost Nav, pick yourself up, your five minutes have passed.”
There was some sort of quip, some sort of rebellion. But it matters naught.
Harrow was perfect; it was only natural for Gideon to respond in vitriol and follow her like a moth to flame.