MABEL
Evelyn hadn’t been there, down by the sea. She hadn’t been amongst the raging tides or the monsoon’s tempests. Hadn’t been foolish enough. Hadn’t been stupid enough. Hadn’t gone careening as Mabel had done, the wave sweeping across her waist and sending her outwards, hands outstretched into the ocean with nothing to grasp, nothing to pull her back towards the rocks, the land, the others waiting, working there. Then that’d been it, nothing but a slow, steady rush of time, weakening, weakening, weakening until there was naught left of her.
Her eyes swept away from their unnerving stare upon the wake of pathways and cobblestones, swinging back to the other, nameless figure. Her brows furrowed slightly, uncertain if she wanted the wake of her sibling to be announced to others; like she was something precious, to be hidden away. But then the notion ceased, gaze back up to his icy stare. “Evelyn. Her name is Evelyn. She looks like me. We’re twins.” All that was left of one another, of families, of broken bonds and brethren.
If the voice sounded cold, it hadn’t meant to be. Just fractured, just splintered, just teetering over edges and frameworks of things she’d always known.
He had plans though, far more than she’d managed in her lulling, listless state, away from the giggling sapling, away from the once-crowd. “There is the Oasis.” Cold, chilling, probably iced over – but it wouldn’t matter to them. They couldn’t feel any of those fragments anymore. “I have our old farmhouse. And I can mend clothes.” She wouldn’t have been worth her salt as a child without being capable of that; she just hadn’t had the opportunity. Hadn’t tried. Hadn’t cared. An offering with her own shrug of shoulders; he could take it or leave it. There were plenty of rooms in the old, empty, disheveled building.
Her eyes swept away from their unnerving stare upon the wake of pathways and cobblestones, swinging back to the other, nameless figure. Her brows furrowed slightly, uncertain if she wanted the wake of her sibling to be announced to others; like she was something precious, to be hidden away. But then the notion ceased, gaze back up to his icy stare. “Evelyn. Her name is Evelyn. She looks like me. We’re twins.” All that was left of one another, of families, of broken bonds and brethren.
If the voice sounded cold, it hadn’t meant to be. Just fractured, just splintered, just teetering over edges and frameworks of things she’d always known.
He had plans though, far more than she’d managed in her lulling, listless state, away from the giggling sapling, away from the once-crowd. “There is the Oasis.” Cold, chilling, probably iced over – but it wouldn’t matter to them. They couldn’t feel any of those fragments anymore. “I have our old farmhouse. And I can mend clothes.” She wouldn’t have been worth her salt as a child without being capable of that; she just hadn’t had the opportunity. Hadn’t tried. Hadn’t cared. An offering with her own shrug of shoulders; he could take it or leave it. There were plenty of rooms in the old, empty, disheveled building.
I bare my teeth
and stretch my claws out
and stretch my claws out
