MABEL
She’d long since hollowed out, but there were times when she glanced around the house and remembered, recalled, bits and pieces of delight. Small, meager, and minute to be certain, but they were there, scattered around the ashes, dust, soot, and cinders, like cobwebs in her mind. An itch she couldn’t quite reach, like everything else, far and out of place, misaligned, misty, foggy, murky.
At least the water still worked – she hadn’t bothered to test it when she roamed earlier. Because that was all she’d done – wander for signs of life, and then continue on when she didn’t see them. The silence from the other Ascended said enough, and she thought about drifting once more, out into the open, out into the wild, out into the earth, where nothing bound and tied and tethered her together. A soulless void.
Her eyes went to Aamu, as he apparently cleaned clothing first, and something about the motions made her want to apologize, but she wasn’t sure what for. So her features rendered themselves back into their impassive abyss, gaze dipping down to the floor, shaking her head. She didn’t need to go first. Perhaps the seaweed would become a part of her, a visual reminder of how she’d lost, and how badly. “Do you need anything mended?” Her hands already clenched over the sewing kit, something to keep her occupied instead of the growing restlessness coiling over her rendered flesh.
At least the water still worked – she hadn’t bothered to test it when she roamed earlier. Because that was all she’d done – wander for signs of life, and then continue on when she didn’t see them. The silence from the other Ascended said enough, and she thought about drifting once more, out into the open, out into the wild, out into the earth, where nothing bound and tied and tethered her together. A soulless void.
Her eyes went to Aamu, as he apparently cleaned clothing first, and something about the motions made her want to apologize, but she wasn’t sure what for. So her features rendered themselves back into their impassive abyss, gaze dipping down to the floor, shaking her head. She didn’t need to go first. Perhaps the seaweed would become a part of her, a visual reminder of how she’d lost, and how badly. “Do you need anything mended?” Her hands already clenched over the sewing kit, something to keep her occupied instead of the growing restlessness coiling over her rendered flesh.
I bare my teeth
and stretch my claws out
and stretch my claws out
