MABEL
Briefly meeting the little companion seemed to go off without a hitch, and despite the aspects of fire, of things that could scorch and destroy her, the griffin didn’t seem to wish any harm. It brought some semblance of relief, so much that her back straightened out, and the girl didn’t threaten to collapse on herself. Her hands grasped another bag, lifting it, and setting it along the rest, evolving into a routine she’d perfected along the farm. Easy and simplistic, and with no pain in her muscles to show for any efforts, it could start to be an efficient task, instead of one she’d proclaimed ignorant of.
But the stranger had answers for her inquiry, and she listened, pondering the levels of wind, rain, and how often it must’ve happened. Monsoons weren’t something frequent in the Grounds, and honestly the crops could’ve used a bit more water, some tangent of potential flooding, rather than some of the dry spells that had begun disastrous treks. “Makes sense,” she shrugged, wondering if their blessed Old Gods could’ve done anything to cease and desist the matter of onslaughts, or if they simply didn’t care.
Most likely the latter.
Maybe the bags wouldn't signify anything but the constant spirit of humans attempting to make things better for themselves. Maybe the floods would come and vanquish everything.
Out of her dreadful musings, the question he granted back to her was easy enough, and she obviously didn’t belong here. “The Grounds.” She paused, considered the weight in her hands, in her back, in her shoulders, as she placed another sack along its stacked brethren. “It’s my first time anywhere else.”
But the stranger had answers for her inquiry, and she listened, pondering the levels of wind, rain, and how often it must’ve happened. Monsoons weren’t something frequent in the Grounds, and honestly the crops could’ve used a bit more water, some tangent of potential flooding, rather than some of the dry spells that had begun disastrous treks. “Makes sense,” she shrugged, wondering if their blessed Old Gods could’ve done anything to cease and desist the matter of onslaughts, or if they simply didn’t care.
Most likely the latter.
Maybe the bags wouldn't signify anything but the constant spirit of humans attempting to make things better for themselves. Maybe the floods would come and vanquish everything.
Out of her dreadful musings, the question he granted back to her was easy enough, and she obviously didn’t belong here. “The Grounds.” She paused, considered the weight in her hands, in her back, in her shoulders, as she placed another sack along its stacked brethren. “It’s my first time anywhere else.”
I bare my teeth
and stretch my claws out
and stretch my claws out
