MABEL
She’d like to be some venomous, toxic, poisonous thing, like an asp, capable of springing out and delivering her venom, her vitriol, in tangible amounts. Rather than quaking here, irritated and annoyed at her inabilities, at the facets she couldn’t reach. Couldn’t find her sibling. Couldn’t do anything but weaken and die, while the rest of the world carried on. She’d yearned to carve her wake into the earth, and all she’d done was be spiraled, flung, out into its depths.
She didn’t like the sadness in his eyes. She wanted it to be fear. She wanted to lash out and stagger her rage into something meaningful, something notable, something seen and noticed and heard. Instead, there were piles of nothing at her feet, hidden depths and layers not yet exposed, not yet known, not yet understood. And her sibling was nowhere in sight. She clenched her jaw at the notion of more future fights, because it too was another figment she couldn’t help with.
Too weak. Too brittle. Too fragile.
And she wasn’t certain if she cared about the message he had to spread either. Old God shit? The level of exasperation curled and coiled upon her, threatened behind her tongue, her fangs, her teeth; shaking off his touch through bending away. Willow edges when she wanted to be stiletto-ed fringes – eventually, eventually, eventually, she could promise herself. If she managed to survive.
“I can find my way home.” That last message of his caused a snarl once more, hackles raised, before she stomped back the way she’d come; naught more, naught less.
{FIN}
She didn’t like the sadness in his eyes. She wanted it to be fear. She wanted to lash out and stagger her rage into something meaningful, something notable, something seen and noticed and heard. Instead, there were piles of nothing at her feet, hidden depths and layers not yet exposed, not yet known, not yet understood. And her sibling was nowhere in sight. She clenched her jaw at the notion of more future fights, because it too was another figment she couldn’t help with.
Too weak. Too brittle. Too fragile.
And she wasn’t certain if she cared about the message he had to spread either. Old God shit? The level of exasperation curled and coiled upon her, threatened behind her tongue, her fangs, her teeth; shaking off his touch through bending away. Willow edges when she wanted to be stiletto-ed fringes – eventually, eventually, eventually, she could promise herself. If she managed to survive.
“I can find my way home.” That last message of his caused a snarl once more, hackles raised, before she stomped back the way she’d come; naught more, naught less.
{FIN}
I bare my teeth
and stretch my claws out
and stretch my claws out
