MABEL
The apology might have meant something to a girl nicer, more compassionate, than her. Mabel was all edges and knives, hungry wrath, willowy conjectures, an eldritch spell from natural inclinations, unfurled, unleashed upon the world like a sullen, silent void. If he expected her to hang her head, to wither away in the fading light of those well wishes, rues, and regrets, than he was due a surprise. Her head tilted, and her fangs edged over her lips – eerie promises making their way through the clouds of smoke and fumes. “Avenge her.” As if it were that simple. As if it were that easy.
Survive LongNight.
Find the culprit.
Destroy him.
A step by step process she’d already begun to roll in her youthful, vibrantly malicious, mind. The basket hid the dagger in her hands, but he advanced, continued, persisted, and she could make this a game. A hunt. One with meaning, if given, granted permission – an inquiry lofted into the air. “Do you know how to fight?” The jut of her chin, lifted and imperious, likely solidified her interest, her intrigue, in the notions.
Survive LongNight.
Find the culprit.
Destroy him.
A step by step process she’d already begun to roll in her youthful, vibrantly malicious, mind. The basket hid the dagger in her hands, but he advanced, continued, persisted, and she could make this a game. A hunt. One with meaning, if given, granted permission – an inquiry lofted into the air. “Do you know how to fight?” The jut of her chin, lifted and imperious, likely solidified her interest, her intrigue, in the notions.
If you dig under my feet
You will find things that you don't want to see
You will find things that you don't want to see
