MABEL
Mabel wasn’t a person of Torchline. In fact, she avoided it most of the time.
But she’d been here to train and strive to overcome some personal traumas – which hadn’t really taken its full effect yet. But underneath her parasol, and within shadows and eaves, the youth could wind around market squares and residences without noticing the sea too much.
Besides, there were other things afoot and raging; voices clambering, people gathering, some other bewitching things taking place. She followed, slinking in and amongst proportions of darkness, narrowing her eyes, rising on her tiptoes to peer over stranger’s shoulders. Not expecting the words of blasphemy to ring out over the seaside courtyard.
Her eyes widened, and she swallowed down nothing; looking, glancing, wondering if inhabitants were considering the weight of these notions. If she was going to have to escape, run for her life in some bizarre uprising spawned from the wagging tongue of a man who knew naught.
Then she saw, heard, Nate from the reaches, and some manner of relief, and then anger stoked in her. Reaching down, her hands could only ghost over pebbles and stray rocks along the ground, shifting around under citizens’ feet. Mabel truly had no fight here, but couldn’t let it go. Not with the raw, tempestuous ferocity flickering and pooling through her system.
So she took the stones, rose up, and then hurled them at the priest.
But she’d been here to train and strive to overcome some personal traumas – which hadn’t really taken its full effect yet. But underneath her parasol, and within shadows and eaves, the youth could wind around market squares and residences without noticing the sea too much.
Besides, there were other things afoot and raging; voices clambering, people gathering, some other bewitching things taking place. She followed, slinking in and amongst proportions of darkness, narrowing her eyes, rising on her tiptoes to peer over stranger’s shoulders. Not expecting the words of blasphemy to ring out over the seaside courtyard.
Her eyes widened, and she swallowed down nothing; looking, glancing, wondering if inhabitants were considering the weight of these notions. If she was going to have to escape, run for her life in some bizarre uprising spawned from the wagging tongue of a man who knew naught.
Then she saw, heard, Nate from the reaches, and some manner of relief, and then anger stoked in her. Reaching down, her hands could only ghost over pebbles and stray rocks along the ground, shifting around under citizens’ feet. Mabel truly had no fight here, but couldn’t let it go. Not with the raw, tempestuous ferocity flickering and pooling through her system.
So she took the stones, rose up, and then hurled them at the priest.
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
