MABEL
Something stirred – a memory, a dream, a haze, a hallucination, the more she glanced at the other, the more her fangs poked pointed over her lips, the more menace began to crawl back into her tarnished contortions. “But this is new,” she harked back, on a spit and sprig of laughter, harsh and bizarre, content and gratified someone listened, someone catered to her demands, and then it stopped abruptly. Her eyes roamed, darted quickly, like a portion of prey, or maybe a predator. It was hard to tell anymore.
“Bites,” she whispered in return, the malicious grin conforming once more, and she made to inch forward, to perhaps grasp at its small branches, to tug it out of the ground – especially if it was something from Frey. From the Old Gods. From the ones who were worth nothing.
Several passerbys glanced her way and made a wide berth – she must’ve looked a fright, with her tangled hair, once-sodden clothes – like something out of the feral woods, drummed up out of incantations and horror, or an individual swept out to sea. There were still matted portions of seaweed in her wild tendrils, and they lingered down her back as she advanced. It was a bizarre sort of crawl, cautious, and because of the slow motions, she didn’t get there before someone else did.
The stranger, everyone was strange now, even if she’d been born right down the road from this very spot – ran their finger across one of the boughs and the tree motioned, maneuvered, and Mabel hissed again, taken aback. The other figure moved on, shrugging their shoulders, and she was left staring. “Maybe it’s an abomination,” and she sneered, looking back at the one who had led them out of the ruins.
“Bites,” she whispered in return, the malicious grin conforming once more, and she made to inch forward, to perhaps grasp at its small branches, to tug it out of the ground – especially if it was something from Frey. From the Old Gods. From the ones who were worth nothing.
Several passerbys glanced her way and made a wide berth – she must’ve looked a fright, with her tangled hair, once-sodden clothes – like something out of the feral woods, drummed up out of incantations and horror, or an individual swept out to sea. There were still matted portions of seaweed in her wild tendrils, and they lingered down her back as she advanced. It was a bizarre sort of crawl, cautious, and because of the slow motions, she didn’t get there before someone else did.
The stranger, everyone was strange now, even if she’d been born right down the road from this very spot – ran their finger across one of the boughs and the tree motioned, maneuvered, and Mabel hissed again, taken aback. The other figure moved on, shrugging their shoulders, and she was left staring. “Maybe it’s an abomination,” and she sneered, looking back at the one who had led them out of the ruins.
I bare my teeth
and stretch my claws out
and stretch my claws out
