MABEL
Mabel didn’t know what to expect on her first journey through the portals. Evelyn had already given her some hints, wandering through herself beforehand, while Mabel had tended to other things. But now, stepping out into peeks of clouds (prosperous at that, but she still tucked herself into her cloak), and everything, she found herself overwhelmed.
The sights and sounds were prosperous, wonderful, and immense, an intensity she hadn’t experienced. The Grounds were meandering pockets of life; these were constant swarms, coming and going with astounding speed, hues, and fabrications, and she kept everything she’d brought close to her belt, bag, and pocket; out of fear, out of apprehension, completely uncertain of what her element might be here.
So she wandered, the uncertainty all the more apparent, if one could see her features beneath the long veil of her hood, until she seemed to reach portions of the sea (touching her bare foot to its grace, squealing under her breath), and then, lost at everything to do and see, she kept walking along ports and docks.
Everyone was a stranger here, but there seemed to be a group working on something, and her stare swept along until she could fully regard the happenstance: bags of sand moved, from kiosk to kiosk, stall to stall, and a griffin tagging along.
Perhaps she should’ve remained constrained, but the level of overbearing things scratched at her mind, and the youthful zeal, lost so long ago under the withering farm and family demise, returned on some semblance of air, calling out to the one who seemed to be running things. “Do you need any help?”
The sights and sounds were prosperous, wonderful, and immense, an intensity she hadn’t experienced. The Grounds were meandering pockets of life; these were constant swarms, coming and going with astounding speed, hues, and fabrications, and she kept everything she’d brought close to her belt, bag, and pocket; out of fear, out of apprehension, completely uncertain of what her element might be here.
So she wandered, the uncertainty all the more apparent, if one could see her features beneath the long veil of her hood, until she seemed to reach portions of the sea (touching her bare foot to its grace, squealing under her breath), and then, lost at everything to do and see, she kept walking along ports and docks.
Everyone was a stranger here, but there seemed to be a group working on something, and her stare swept along until she could fully regard the happenstance: bags of sand moved, from kiosk to kiosk, stall to stall, and a griffin tagging along.
Perhaps she should’ve remained constrained, but the level of overbearing things scratched at her mind, and the youthful zeal, lost so long ago under the withering farm and family demise, returned on some semblance of air, calling out to the one who seemed to be running things. “Do you need any help?”
I bare my teeth
and stretch my claws out
and stretch my claws out
