Come sit right here and sleep while I slip poison in your ear
But they had, they had, they had – and the guilt didn’t strike her probably the way he’d wanted it to. Not for a tiny speck of a heathen, who’d been sent to linger in the barracks and stare upwards at flames, at infidels who aimed to strike and damage and tear apart. Not for a girl who’d already died once, and was so desperate to live again.
She wasn’t softness, not in the way his voice quieted, not in the way he seemed to hush and accept her rash impudence. Angles and bitterness, edges and rancor, compiled and pooled into one being, whose borrowed feathers plucked closer to her sides, eyes shifting away, away, away, up towards the moonlit sky and the expanse of another world they tread within. Something to do with a portal. Which didn’t make much sense to her afterwards either – though she and Evelyn had been dealing with the rest of their fading, dying family at the time, and she could’ve been just as lost as the rest of the inhabitants – since they opened one in the Spire soon after.
The Blight was a sickness, but only non-Ascended seemed to contract it. Which hadn’t painted them in a very forgiving, well-orchestrated light. It was as if everyone was feral. Attacking one another, brethren, loved ones. Animals – predator and prey alike. She shook her eagle head, uncertain how else to convey the sentiments. That is how the rest of the world often remembers us. The ones who brought scourges upon the earth. Representatives of destruction.
She wasn’t softness, not in the way his voice quieted, not in the way he seemed to hush and accept her rash impudence. Angles and bitterness, edges and rancor, compiled and pooled into one being, whose borrowed feathers plucked closer to her sides, eyes shifting away, away, away, up towards the moonlit sky and the expanse of another world they tread within. Something to do with a portal. Which didn’t make much sense to her afterwards either – though she and Evelyn had been dealing with the rest of their fading, dying family at the time, and she could’ve been just as lost as the rest of the inhabitants – since they opened one in the Spire soon after.
The Blight was a sickness, but only non-Ascended seemed to contract it. Which hadn’t painted them in a very forgiving, well-orchestrated light. It was as if everyone was feral. Attacking one another, brethren, loved ones. Animals – predator and prey alike. She shook her eagle head, uncertain how else to convey the sentiments. That is how the rest of the world often remembers us. The ones who brought scourges upon the earth. Representatives of destruction.
MABEL
