MABEL
The paths didn’t meld or fold together; the arcane, ancient farmhouse stood in its primordial, aching shell without the Queen pressing into it. The youth didn’t move, didn’t maneuver, an eerie stillness settling over her from days of wraiths, phantoms, and locked souls; raising her head with its defiant fringes to regard the Wraith. “It was.” And then nothing else but the agreement. They weren’t close enough for Mabel to fall apart within these hinges and fringes. She’d had those moments. Those instances. Some anointed in edges of rage. Some christened in familiar chains. Some dipped, tipped, in fear.
It was the other words anyway that gave her away; eyes widening, arms dropping away from her chest, the surprise looming on her features. The news she craved. The news she needed. And then the rush of the unknown beating against her, echoes of water drumming into her ears; perhaps she was fine. Been sent on a mission from the Voice. She’d be back later.
Wouldn’t, shouldn’t, she know? Of all people? Bonded souls and ties closer to one another than anyone else ever could be? Twins – forged in their destruction, in their birth, in everything that came after.
“I’ve been looking for her,” she stammered. Released a volley of the anxiety, of the trepidation building behind her jaw, clenched in fangs and ivories, in the fists balling along her sides. “I thought about asking the Voice if she’d been sent somewhere. She doesn’t know I’m back.” Like it was a last ditch effort, a final hope, that she was still out there –
And then her eyes went to Wessex, as if waiting for the curtain call, for everything to be painted and drawn into reality.
It was the other words anyway that gave her away; eyes widening, arms dropping away from her chest, the surprise looming on her features. The news she craved. The news she needed. And then the rush of the unknown beating against her, echoes of water drumming into her ears; perhaps she was fine. Been sent on a mission from the Voice. She’d be back later.
Wouldn’t, shouldn’t, she know? Of all people? Bonded souls and ties closer to one another than anyone else ever could be? Twins – forged in their destruction, in their birth, in everything that came after.
“I’ve been looking for her,” she stammered. Released a volley of the anxiety, of the trepidation building behind her jaw, clenched in fangs and ivories, in the fists balling along her sides. “I thought about asking the Voice if she’d been sent somewhere. She doesn’t know I’m back.” Like it was a last ditch effort, a final hope, that she was still out there –
And then her eyes went to Wessex, as if waiting for the curtain call, for everything to be painted and drawn into reality.
I bare my teeth
and stretch my claws out
and stretch my claws out
