MABEL
Her doing; the goddess, and then nothing more than a residual acceptance. Were there no other answers, or did that spell out a significant clause – to become something languid, something like a beacon, and then to cease, to desist, when no longer necessary? She couldn’t possibly know either, and despite her immense, reverent gratitude to the Brightened figure in their lives, the inquiry still slid around her eldritch mind. A web, seething, bending, unwinding like a willow, its branches heavy for now. Laden and drifting with other things. Other figments; repressed and inane, trivial and mutinous.
Her sister was the priority anyway, and then she could continue onward, forge whatever path or plan the Voice had in store for them. To go to the ends of the earth. To take the world apart. To render, to reshape, to hone fangs and daggers.
So her gaze lifted back to his, at some point she’d angled it downwards, and then on the horizon, as if Evelyn’s figure might appear from its abyss – just as ghostly as hers, and they could go home. They could triumph. “I don’t know. Not at home. I’ve searched there.” In the other enigmatic quandaries, in the empty halls, in the vast, forlorn house; beginning to fall apart as well. “But I will keep looking,” a promise thrown aloft and out loud, in case he doubted her. In case anyone thought her lackluster and nothing.
She’d show them.
And then he had no one either, suspecting naught, and her twisted little heart ached for a moment – perhaps a second of weakness, or Mabel simply knew what it was like to be forgotten figments, lost little children never quite wanted, needed, or listened to, no matter how much they insisted and strived and tried. It didn’t show on her face though, these butchering blades of emotion, and instead, a singular blink of her eerie gaze, and then her head snapped in the direction of the in. “Yes. Do you want me to show you?”
Her sister was the priority anyway, and then she could continue onward, forge whatever path or plan the Voice had in store for them. To go to the ends of the earth. To take the world apart. To render, to reshape, to hone fangs and daggers.
So her gaze lifted back to his, at some point she’d angled it downwards, and then on the horizon, as if Evelyn’s figure might appear from its abyss – just as ghostly as hers, and they could go home. They could triumph. “I don’t know. Not at home. I’ve searched there.” In the other enigmatic quandaries, in the empty halls, in the vast, forlorn house; beginning to fall apart as well. “But I will keep looking,” a promise thrown aloft and out loud, in case he doubted her. In case anyone thought her lackluster and nothing.
She’d show them.
And then he had no one either, suspecting naught, and her twisted little heart ached for a moment – perhaps a second of weakness, or Mabel simply knew what it was like to be forgotten figments, lost little children never quite wanted, needed, or listened to, no matter how much they insisted and strived and tried. It didn’t show on her face though, these butchering blades of emotion, and instead, a singular blink of her eerie gaze, and then her head snapped in the direction of the in. “Yes. Do you want me to show you?”
I bare my teeth
and stretch my claws out
and stretch my claws out
