MABEL
The knife cut through the air, just skimming over the head of the gourd. It almost mockingly gestured its vines at her in an immodest display of its abilities, and Mabel fought a sneer coming over her face, preparing another stiletto. Even an answering hiss felt appropriate, but not in front of Wessex.
She didn’t expect the reason behind the Wraith’s answer to be somewhat similar to her own – though it wasn’t the history that tied Mabel here, but the fascination in the fertile fields, in the wide open expanse, in the way that crops could’ve been rich, and some maybe wouldn’t have starved to death, kneeling before altars. “Wandering. Sometimes I like to think my family would’ve been successful, out here.” She raised her head, and flickered the knife once more.
The mention of Torchline did earn a wrinkle to her nose, but in the callous way and weight of memories. In death and resurrection. Maybe the seas and beaches should’ve kept its phantoms, but curiosity compelled. “What sort of ghosts?”
She didn’t expect the reason behind the Wraith’s answer to be somewhat similar to her own – though it wasn’t the history that tied Mabel here, but the fascination in the fertile fields, in the wide open expanse, in the way that crops could’ve been rich, and some maybe wouldn’t have starved to death, kneeling before altars. “Wandering. Sometimes I like to think my family would’ve been successful, out here.” She raised her head, and flickered the knife once more.
The mention of Torchline did earn a wrinkle to her nose, but in the callous way and weight of memories. In death and resurrection. Maybe the seas and beaches should’ve kept its phantoms, but curiosity compelled. “What sort of ghosts?”
Let's go to war to make peace
Let's be cold to create heat
Let's be cold to create heat
