MABEL
There was something else swarming through ber brain – a warning, a keening dirge, a siren wailing – because opinions differed, and the girl wasn’t sure they were all going to be able to withstand the oncoming storm. She grabbed hold of her needle, tight and grasping, until her knuckles flanked white and ivory, pale outsets in the darkened chambers, in the frustration she could no longer hide away. “No. That’s not what I said.” Perhaps Wessex, strong, enduring, a Wraith of ample prowess and prestige, would be able to handle any onslaught thrown their way, but if she was so worried about her people, then why enact a course of action they couldn’t persevere through? “I mentioned starting small, but hitting them where it hurt. Or maybe where they couldn’t pinpoint us as the culprits. Weakening them, and strengthening ourselves.”
Mabel was inexperienced, young, ignorant, to be sure, but she knew that she wanted to live. That she wanted her sister to live. That she wanted the Ascendeds to rise to the occasion, to become potent and powerful, to show the world the Brightened ones were the true emblems of the world now –
But not at the cost of her kin.
And maybe this was where she and the Wraith would differ, wander, diverge, seek alternate paths. There were bound to be other measures, other means, than simply striving to bludgeon. Her mind conjured a multitude of ideas, and she figured she’d seek out Evelyn, perhaps Bastien, when LongNight’s spurning had ceased.
Even if the Old God worshippers weren’t ready, didn’t they already vastly outnumber the Ascended? Her brain attempted to calculate how many of them were still left, but had no way of knowing, unaware of who clawed outside the barrier and portal walls. “But it seems you intend to do this no matter what I say.” Her words weren’t soft, deliberately poignant. “You can survive a war, but can the rest of us?” Wessex's own brethren? This so-called family?
She said nothing of the Blight – had only witnessed it from afar. There were contradictions and hypocrisies to linger in there, but Mabel thought she’d likely said enough. Her points had been made, so she loosened the grip on her sewing needle, and stared down at the floor, jaw clenched.
Mabel was inexperienced, young, ignorant, to be sure, but she knew that she wanted to live. That she wanted her sister to live. That she wanted the Ascendeds to rise to the occasion, to become potent and powerful, to show the world the Brightened ones were the true emblems of the world now –
But not at the cost of her kin.
And maybe this was where she and the Wraith would differ, wander, diverge, seek alternate paths. There were bound to be other measures, other means, than simply striving to bludgeon. Her mind conjured a multitude of ideas, and she figured she’d seek out Evelyn, perhaps Bastien, when LongNight’s spurning had ceased.
Even if the Old God worshippers weren’t ready, didn’t they already vastly outnumber the Ascended? Her brain attempted to calculate how many of them were still left, but had no way of knowing, unaware of who clawed outside the barrier and portal walls. “But it seems you intend to do this no matter what I say.” Her words weren’t soft, deliberately poignant. “You can survive a war, but can the rest of us?” Wessex's own brethren? This so-called family?
She said nothing of the Blight – had only witnessed it from afar. There were contradictions and hypocrisies to linger in there, but Mabel thought she’d likely said enough. Her points had been made, so she loosened the grip on her sewing needle, and stared down at the floor, jaw clenched.
I bare my teeth
and stretch my claws out
and stretch my claws out
