Come sit right here and sleep while I slip poison in your ear
She was tired too, and it wavered in between the bond, in between the nuances of exertion she hadn’t felt in some time; in these bodies, they weren’t so infallible, so perfected. She rustled the wings several more times, continually angling away from the water, until she found a patch of clover she liked, and her talons sunk into its bed of moss underneath.
And he could imagine how the world had viewed them in those moments – animosity, hostility, the age-old primordial sway alive and well again and again – if it had ever truly dissipated. For all the good they extended, there were always hoards of other propositions and positions; and Mabel was past the point of caring how they looked, how they appeared. It never seemed to change to those already set in their ways, and what was the use in trying?
As for the cure? Vi, his roses, and a Fae who sacrificed herself. Still capable of being seen, like a statue, carved and intricate near the borderlines of Greatwood and Grounds.
And he could imagine how the world had viewed them in those moments – animosity, hostility, the age-old primordial sway alive and well again and again – if it had ever truly dissipated. For all the good they extended, there were always hoards of other propositions and positions; and Mabel was past the point of caring how they looked, how they appeared. It never seemed to change to those already set in their ways, and what was the use in trying?
As for the cure? Vi, his roses, and a Fae who sacrificed herself. Still capable of being seen, like a statue, carved and intricate near the borderlines of Greatwood and Grounds.
MABEL
