MABEL
Mabel would’ve liked to have been more than capable of facing her fears. Not so hesitant, not so useless, not so feeble, not so helpless. But one couldn’t flick a knife into the ocean to watch it wither and decay. Water had power. Water had might. Water had more than she ever would.
Which was why she stood beneath the canopy of the moon and all its glory, where she pretended to be a wolf stalking the night skyline, where she lingered in the throngs of shadows, staring out over the abyss. She could hear the rolls of the waves and it made her entire body cringe, yearn to collapse on itself. To curl into a little ball and dream of better days; moments spent in lakes, in the Oasis, springing up underneath lily pads and swimming after dream fish. Rather than the cacophony it echoed and pulsed within her now, where the hollowed remnants had carried her far, far, far from shore, and into a slow, dizzying demise.
Eventually, she wound her way across the earth, avoiding the lights of the tiki torches, or the joyous rapture of a bonfire going on further down the stretch of sand. Instead, there was no brazen edge left to her. Just a shy, shuddering thing, like a bird rather than any eldritch abomination the youth yearned to be, clutching her favored dagger, fingers pressed tightly over its hilt.
Which was why she stood beneath the canopy of the moon and all its glory, where she pretended to be a wolf stalking the night skyline, where she lingered in the throngs of shadows, staring out over the abyss. She could hear the rolls of the waves and it made her entire body cringe, yearn to collapse on itself. To curl into a little ball and dream of better days; moments spent in lakes, in the Oasis, springing up underneath lily pads and swimming after dream fish. Rather than the cacophony it echoed and pulsed within her now, where the hollowed remnants had carried her far, far, far from shore, and into a slow, dizzying demise.
Eventually, she wound her way across the earth, avoiding the lights of the tiki torches, or the joyous rapture of a bonfire going on further down the stretch of sand. Instead, there was no brazen edge left to her. Just a shy, shuddering thing, like a bird rather than any eldritch abomination the youth yearned to be, clutching her favored dagger, fingers pressed tightly over its hilt.
Let's go to war to make peace
Let's be cold to create heat
Let's be cold to create heat
