MABEL
Hunting; something she would’ve liked to do. To stretch out claws and weaponry, to hone abilities until the world sank beneath her fangs, feared her existent, but could never see her coming. To snatch and snag along the wayward sea would be a whole other obstacle, but as her eyes roamed back to the ripples of tides, merry and incandescent by her feet, and out into the vast unknown (powerful, dangerous), she strived to imagine it. To be upon the waves, to be against the current, to rise, rise, rise, and never fall.
Getting purposefully lost sounded downright deranged, but she let the thought go. His question lingered in her mind for an instant though, and she drowned out the rest of any other ruminations. Then it slid between teeth, her gaze still upon that great, wide plain of enigmas, secrets, and duplicity. “Yes.” She nodded, firmly, committed. “When I’m strong enough.” When she was ready to conquer and divide, to seek her vengeance, to poise devastation and ruin. It sounded far, far better than wasting away at a farm, toiling and tilling fields that would never grow.
Getting purposefully lost sounded downright deranged, but she let the thought go. His question lingered in her mind for an instant though, and she drowned out the rest of any other ruminations. Then it slid between teeth, her gaze still upon that great, wide plain of enigmas, secrets, and duplicity. “Yes.” She nodded, firmly, committed. “When I’m strong enough.” When she was ready to conquer and divide, to seek her vengeance, to poise devastation and ruin. It sounded far, far better than wasting away at a farm, toiling and tilling fields that would never grow.
I bare my teeth
and stretch my claws out
and stretch my claws out
