Drown you for your sin (O)

MABEL

“You look bored.” Unprepared; hadn’t come with anything to entertain himself. Perhaps he was one of the many Outlanders who thought it’d be an interesting ruse, a game of warnings and nothing else – until they heard the first clack of claws against wood, or the whispers of heresy through the void. Until they were tricked, deceived, duped, worn and worn and worn again in the onslaught of psychological or physical torture. Foolish, probably, to be rendered in an idle state. Mabel half-hoped a monster found him, just so he’d take it seriously, just so another Outlander was proven wrong – simpletons.

Her eyes went to a bookshelf nearby, fingers perusing the selection, rippling over the spines while he drawled, and she arched her brow again as her eyes shifted back to him, attention deviated from her task. Her eyes looked down at his hand, half-intending not to take it, to be miffed and irritated at his presence. A sigh drifted through, and with an obvious reluctance, she took it, a swift shake, before dropping it altogether. “I’m Mabel.” The tone was stoic and cold, emotionless and reserved, gaze sweeping back to the available tomes. Tips? Like any of them listened anyways? “Don’t open the door.” A smirk settled across her mouth, stare not going back to him. “No matter how tempted.”

I bare my teeth
and stretch my claws out