MABEL
They had a mission. Simple, lacking any complexity to its course, not impossible, but improbable, depending on connections, coercions, and acting ability. Mabel had never had the opportunity, until now, to be a duplicitous sort – her parents and their control on their actions had ensured stepping out of line was a farce, and only after their family perished, did she and her twin even snag a chance.
Her approach was made on an almost cowardly demeanor – an alteration from her usual discordant, reserved, composed stance. Anointed to look as though every inch of her movements and motions were apprehensive, she slipped and slid slowly from shadow to shadow, maneuvering along the stonework of the Temple, her twin close behind, gauging out their intended target.
The Queen (and how did one even address a sovereign; she’d been younger in the crowds with Zariah the Merciless, never had opportunity with discussion and discourse with the Dark Star, or the Wraith until recently, and only a single nod and word to the Penumbra) lingered nearby, apparently not in discussion with anyone else. Mabel bit her lip, newly Ascended fangs glinting in the light, and ambled her way towards the Wordsworth. “Queen Evie,” because that sounded better on her tongue, on the low whispers, on the darting of her eyes, back and forth, glancing everywhere. “May we speak to you?”
Her approach was made on an almost cowardly demeanor – an alteration from her usual discordant, reserved, composed stance. Anointed to look as though every inch of her movements and motions were apprehensive, she slipped and slid slowly from shadow to shadow, maneuvering along the stonework of the Temple, her twin close behind, gauging out their intended target.
The Queen (and how did one even address a sovereign; she’d been younger in the crowds with Zariah the Merciless, never had opportunity with discussion and discourse with the Dark Star, or the Wraith until recently, and only a single nod and word to the Penumbra) lingered nearby, apparently not in discussion with anyone else. Mabel bit her lip, newly Ascended fangs glinting in the light, and ambled her way towards the Wordsworth. “Queen Evie,” because that sounded better on her tongue, on the low whispers, on the darting of her eyes, back and forth, glancing everywhere. “May we speak to you?”
I bare my teeth
and stretch my claws out
and stretch my claws out
