MABEL
A voice ricocheted outside the door, reverberating, resounding. Mabel had heard similar echoes a hundred times before, when she was a little girl, up until now. Sometimes they were claws. Sometimes they were scratches made on the farmhouse’s enamel, while they cowered in the quiet. Sometimes the only answers were her parents’ prayers, pleading to the Old Gods to ensure their safety – when not a single herald could respond.
She sauntered towards the door, a cold entity near its jurisdiction. The youth wouldn’t touch it, had already learned what happened to those Ascended; she wouldn’t survive.
And the girl was all about her own survival.
A cool, dispassionate, impassive tone meandered from her, and she made no further move towards the portal, or inviting anyone else to open the aperture. “Then you shouldn't be out there.” A consignment to oblivion; too late for this individual, unless another came along.
She sauntered towards the door, a cold entity near its jurisdiction. The youth wouldn’t touch it, had already learned what happened to those Ascended; she wouldn’t survive.
And the girl was all about her own survival.
A cool, dispassionate, impassive tone meandered from her, and she made no further move towards the portal, or inviting anyone else to open the aperture. “Then you shouldn't be out there.” A consignment to oblivion; too late for this individual, unless another came along.
I bare my teeth
and stretch my claws out
and stretch my claws out
