sail, sink, teeter on the brink
Mabel
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
General of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 47 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 61 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 61 - Luck: 58 - Int: 2
LOKI - Mythical - Dragon (Energy Blast)
Played by: Astor Offline
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#1
WESSEX

At first, the stillness is welcome. It matches the calm clarity in her mind, allowing her to connect the dots on another train of thought as the Wraith slips deftly through the bare and snow-laden woodlands. She chalks it up to the snow, the dampening layer of white that both hides and betrays the world. It glistens even in the faint light of a crescent moon and crunches ever so slightly underneath her feet, but as Wessex continues towards the old Occidendum farm, it seems to grow and grow and grow.

Where are the low cries of the owls, the subtle, soft crackling of delicate cloven-hooves in the underbrush? The high-pitched squeaks of alarm and the rapid rustle of predator-and-prey? Silence seems to hang heavy here, despairing and ominous. A pregnant pause, waiting on the edge for life to either begin or end - but left too long, now. And now it rots.

She frows to herself, the corners of her mouth crinkling and pressing down in her dismaying assessment of the night. With a furtive, suspicious glance from side to side, Wessex cannot help but feel as if the weight of her news precedes her and now lies ready for an ambush. “Mabel?” she calls into the still, prickly darkness. Continuing towards the edge of the former farm’s boundaries, she calls again. “Mabel? It’s Wessex.”
there was a time that we were kind, but now
don't write me, you're not fooling anyone
Mabel Occidendum


Age: 23 | Height: 5'7" | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 3 - Strg: 16 - Dext: 16 - Endr: 16 - Luck: 16 - Int:
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#2
MABEL

Maybe she was frost and ice, frozen down deep into her entity, waiting for something else to pierce and slide. Maybe Mabel was nothing at all, and this had been a mistake – the determination flickering now and again, twisting and turning like a fractured, splintered puzzle. The ends never quite aligning. Nothing matching.

And try as she might, the results of her ongoing wanderings had amounted with little to naught. No Evelyn. No evidence of her existence.

And wasn’t that what she feared the most? That she’d dragged herself out of death’s ramparts, followed voices and lines, tethers and bouts, for a sibling she couldn’t find?

And then what? What was to come next?

She’d heard the Wraith’s call earlier, while mending her clothes. While striking against the echoes of the past. While trying to raise her head over the onslaught tearing through her heart. She hadn’t thought about the predilections long; tired, perhaps, of all the nuances and notions she’d walked right back into. Several remarks curled over her mind, in between the hours where she cared to drift away from the possibilities of Evelyn’s whereabouts. She wouldn’t be fighting. She’d be keeping to herself. She’d get stronger.

Thereafter, Mabel wasn’t so certain.

So the call into the still evening wasn’t a surprise, and she loomed on the edge of her farmhouse door, the creak of the wood revealing her stance, her crossed arms. Mostly to protect herself, a shield against some incoming, ominous storm. Why had Wessex appeared at all? The machinations haunted and devised, and not a single one prevailed in positivity. “I’m here.” No inflection, no emotion – cold and frigid, the uncertainty bristling against her.
I bare my teeth
and stretch my claws out
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
General of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 47 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 61 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 61 - Luck: 58 - Int: 2
LOKI - Mythical - Dragon (Energy Blast)
Played by: Astor Offline
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Posts: 3,156 | Total: 4,350
MP: 0
#3
WESSEX

Maybe a maze lies before Mabel, full of emotional traps and dead ends and illusions, where there isn’t a single path that will get her through, but many - made by the sheer amount of willpower housed in her relatively tiny body. Maybe she can be ice and steel, fracturing the world like she, herself, breaks now. Maybe she can carve her sister’s name into the palms of her enemies, or erect a statue to her memory, or take a newer Ascended under her wing. Maybe. Maybe.

But there are truths to be told first.

And as the girl’s slight figure appears in the dilapidated doorway, tatters on tatters, Wessex’s heart clenches inward. Her insides seem to harden in rebellion (but it must be done, mustn’t it?) and though she is quite happy that Mabel chose to return, the circumstances of her visit hardly seem the time to express that sentiment. And the girl is no idiot.

Still - a smile creeps in as she continues to advance on the doorway. “I’m glad.” She comes slowly through to the middle of the front yard, eyes on the girl. “I heard what happened in Torchline and -” drifting off momentarily does not stop her until she’s within two arms’ lengths or so. “I’m sorry. That we couldn’t save you. That must have been terrifying.”

Between the weight of her tone and the way her eyes seem to widen to take all of Mabel in, her expression says that she is, genuinely, truly regretful about that.
there was a time that we were kind, but now
don't write me, you're not fooling anyone
Mabel Occidendum


Age: 23 | Height: 5'7" | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 3 - Strg: 16 - Dext: 16 - Endr: 16 - Luck: 16 - Int:
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#4
MABEL

Maybe everything was labyrinthine, and there was no escape from its warren heights. Something curled in the back of her mind, like webs and storms, the ebb and flow of waves careening against her fragile form. Mabel wouldn’t know until things unfolded, unfurled, pressed against the remains of her heart, the world vast and open while hers became steadily more closed off. Her jaw clenched automatically, arms folding across her chest, as she stepped out of the way, permitting the Wraith an opportunity to enter. If she wanted to – to cross the threshold of the dying farmhouse and its fringes, its boundaries, its meanings.

Apologies first – and she didn’t reflect the smile. Her features were muted, nonchalant, slipping into a reticent mask to cloud over all the apprehension lurking from underneath.

That she couldn’t be saved.

She wondered briefly if any of them had tried. If it would’ve mattered.

No – probably not. Then there would’ve just been more with her, gathered and nestled and tossed about in certain, eventual, death. “It was slow.” Her words were harsh and abrupt. She’d had a lot of time to witness the world and currents pass and swim and churn her about; an excruciating demise by starvation and sun, until she’d sunk beneath the surface, entangled with the weeds and fish. A system eventually overridden, despite how she fought and fought and fought. There’d been nothing and nowhere to grasp. No one to call. She swallowed something down, perhaps terror, perhaps anger, grew more rigid along the landing of the only filaments she had left. “Is there something else you needed?” She hadn’t known Wessex to be available on house calls – so the consternation started again.
I bare my teeth
and stretch my claws out
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
General of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 47 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 61 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 61 - Luck: 58 - Int: 2
LOKI - Mythical - Dragon (Energy Blast)
Played by: Astor Offline
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Posts: 3,156 | Total: 4,350
MP: 0
#5
WESSEX

If Wessex had had an inclination to enter the house, it was cut off by Mabel’s body language - though she stands aside to permit entry, it seems to be only out of politeness - because what else does one offer to a Queen? No, she stays where she is, a flicker of sadness, or maybe disappointment, in the twitch of a mouth corner, a flicker of an eyelid.

Remember, Wessex, you were once an angry, sullen teenager. You once raged against the world (don’t kid yourself, you still do). You died.

She nods slowly, acknowledging that the process of dying - the very thing she’d Ascended to avoid - must have been agonizingly slow. Painless, but what is physical pain to the mental anguish of that kind of thing? “It must have been terrible…” she murmurs. They’ve done this dance before: Wessex isn’t comforting. She’s not good at that kind of thing.

The anger (she takes it as anger) helps her steel her spine. “Yes. It’s about Evelyn...” she begins slowly, watching keenly for signs of - who knows, something.
there was a time that we were kind, but now
don't write me, you're not fooling anyone
Mabel Occidendum


Age: 23 | Height: 5'7" | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 3 - Strg: 16 - Dext: 16 - Endr: 16 - Luck: 16 - Int:
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#6
MABEL

The paths didn’t meld or fold together; the arcane, ancient farmhouse stood in its primordial, aching shell without the Queen pressing into it. The youth didn’t move, didn’t maneuver, an eerie stillness settling over her from days of wraiths, phantoms, and locked souls; raising her head with its defiant fringes to regard the Wraith. “It was.” And then nothing else but the agreement. They weren’t close enough for Mabel to fall apart within these hinges and fringes. She’d had those moments. Those instances. Some anointed in edges of rage. Some christened in familiar chains. Some dipped, tipped, in fear.

It was the other words anyway that gave her away; eyes widening, arms dropping away from her chest, the surprise looming on her features. The news she craved. The news she needed. And then the rush of the unknown beating against her, echoes of water drumming into her ears; perhaps she was fine. Been sent on a mission from the Voice. She’d be back later.

Wouldn’t, shouldn’t, she know? Of all people? Bonded souls and ties closer to one another than anyone else ever could be? Twins – forged in their destruction, in their birth, in everything that came after.

“I’ve been looking for her,” she stammered. Released a volley of the anxiety, of the trepidation building behind her jaw, clenched in fangs and ivories, in the fists balling along her sides. “I thought about asking the Voice if she’d been sent somewhere. She doesn’t know I’m back.” Like it was a last ditch effort, a final hope, that she was still out there –

And then her eyes went to Wessex, as if waiting for the curtain call, for everything to be painted and drawn into reality.
I bare my teeth
and stretch my claws out
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
General of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 47 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 61 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 61 - Luck: 58 - Int: 2
LOKI - Mythical - Dragon (Energy Blast)
Played by: Astor Offline
Change author:
Posts: 3,156 | Total: 4,350
MP: 0
#7
WESSEX

I know -

I heard -

She doesn’t -

Everything, everything seems to catch in her throat. A physical impossibility, of course, even more so with the lack of inhaling and exhaling.Where to start, how to ease into it? Can it even be eased into? No, of course not, Gods, she isn’t cut out for this aftermath shit, she isn’t -

Remembering what it felt like when Magrethe had died - like someone had ripped half her heart out and cut open her ribcage, stealing the breath and blood from inside her lungs. Just a sister. Not a twin. Expected, not a surprise. Mabel had seen death, but the sicknesses here linger. One can prepare.

Mabel had just missed her. A few days earlier and…

If this hesitation isn’t a clue to the Wraith’s inevitable answer, nothing will be.

“You don’t need to ask the Voice,” she starts with a shake of her head. Obviously that’s why she’s here. “Or you can, if you want. I’m sure She would like to see you. Evelyn is with her. I don’t - I don’t know exactly what happened. She was murdered. Found with a slashed neck.” Wessex tries not to take her eyes off Mabel, tries to make herself more open and who knows, not so much a demigod or a Queen.

“The Voice said she didn’t know her attacker. But I have what he looked like.” Not that it’ll help. Not really.
there was a time that we were kind, but now
don't write me, you're not fooling anyone
Mabel Occidendum


Age: 23 | Height: 5'7" | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 3 - Strg: 16 - Dext: 16 - Endr: 16 - Luck: 16 - Int:
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#8
MABEL

The looming silence thereafter told her everything she needed to hear, well before the words revealed truths, the sentiments she’d been reeling and feeling. The emptiness in her heart, in her soul. The wallowing shades and trails of loneliness. The notion that the other half of her was simply not there any longer.

Gone. Dead.

She hadn’t seen her.

Mabel stilled, frozen, transfixed for a moment, cold, cold eyes darting to the floor. To the structure that housed them all.

And she was the last.

She wouldn’t cry here. Not in front of the Wraith. The only emotions snapping in between her ribs, her lungs, her ichor, was a sudden, blistering, infernal rage – turning, twisting over the fragments of the words the Queen offered. They revolved over and over again. She was murdered. Found with a slashed neck. She was murdered. And then it would cycle back through, terrible and overwhelming, until her hands trembled, and she motioned towards the table, stiff, unyielding, for a piece of paper, some stray charcoal.

There was half a moment where she wondered why she shouldn’t just wander back into the woods and let the world take her again. The only reason she’d returned at all had been for Evelyn. What kept her here now?

The sparks of derision, of vengeance – kindling, stoking, fueling in her movements. And she tried to ensure her voice didn’t shake, didn’t quake, didn’t slide apart in the crackles of all the ruminations mauling her entity. “Tell me,” quiet shackles, but dominating in their space, in the hollowed proportions of the chilling abyss of that damned house.
I bare my teeth
and stretch my claws out
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
General of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 47 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 61 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 61 - Luck: 58 - Int: 2
LOKI - Mythical - Dragon (Energy Blast)
Played by: Astor Offline
Change author:
Posts: 3,156 | Total: 4,350
MP: 0
#9
WESSEX

There is nothing to do but acquiesce, flow with the maelstrom of emotions and hope that maybe she can catch Mabel sometime when she whirls by.

Wessex follows her into the house, trying not to take note of whether or not it’s a fit place for a girl to live. On her own. Her hands fall to clasp in front of her as she waits for the cue to speak - a piece of charcoal in hand - and then reveals the few things she knows. “A man, older, tall, and with dark hair. It happened in the Temple.”

The Wraith has mulled it over enough to have her suspicions, the most telling is that the life-long Grounder didn’t know her attacker. Which tells her that the man isn’t from here. The Temple is another peculiar thing, but she hasn’t quite cracked that mystery yet. Maybe when there aren’t a thousand other things flying around her head.

One of which includes Mabel. No more than a murmur, the Wraith stands awkwardly as she continues on, having given a pause after her description so as not to seem to pushy. Even though she is (but it has to be said). “Mabel, if this house is ever falling apart over your head, or has too many memories, there’s room at my place. Or we can find you a place in the Settlement. There are… options.”

None of which are death.

Because you are not alone.

But she can’t say those things, can she? Because the Wraith remembers the loneliness. Remembers wanting to crawl into a hole after her family died. Remembers how haunted her house was and how she couldn't bring herself to leave it. All Wessex can say is this: “I’m here if you need anything.”
there was a time that we were kind, but now
don't write me, you're not fooling anyone
Mabel Occidendum


Age: 23 | Height: 5'7" | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 3 - Strg: 16 - Dext: 16 - Endr: 16 - Luck: 16 - Int:
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#10
MABEL

The charcoal kept her maintained, rooted, instead of flying off to the woods, shrieking, crying, erupting like the banshees in the middle of their dark, nestled wood. It removed the emotion clinging to her chest, heaving and assaulting her ribs, joining in between bones and pouring out from their walls. The enamel was stark and cold; and she’d be a chilling void again, when she was just beginning to remember her place.

Revenge. That had to be it.

She wrote the words out on the paper, the lines heavy, dark, and brooding, betraying the anger and foulness in her heart. Older man. Tall. Dark hair. “In the Temple. Someone religious?” she whispered – a place where their little haunts had transfixed and disposed. She made no mention of the man they’d assaulted before, where Evelyn had lifted with all her gravity and poise and thrown it down upon the individual’s head. How they’d laughed and mocked and jeered.

Had it been payback? Another brand of justice?

Her head lifted at Wessex’s next statements – pausing in her writing, the piercing slate of her stare going towards the Queen. She could hear the offer, but didn’t want it. Didn’t need it. Couldn’t uproot herself from this world, even if it collapsed down around her. “It’s all I have of them now.” Quieter, stiller, her eyes flickered over the kitchen and the table they had stood and sat within – the hearth bustling even though there was no need for its occupants – for the pipes, for the wood, really. “Aamu is staying here too.” He was a sort of comfort in his own way  – another ghost with too many memories left untethered, unmoored. Maybe they were one another’s anchors.
I bare my teeth
and stretch my claws out
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
General of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 47 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 61 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 61 - Luck: 58 - Int: 2
LOKI - Mythical - Dragon (Energy Blast)
Played by: Astor Offline
Change author:
Posts: 3,156 | Total: 4,350
MP: 0
#11
WESSEX

“I don’t know,” she admits with a small shake of her head. “It’s certainly possible. She could have run in there for help and just… didn’t make it. I don’t know.” A thought occurs to her suddenly and she offers up the idea. “But if it was a follower of the Old Gods, they might be bragging about it. We should keep our ears open. Maybe try to do some digging after LongNight.”

She says it like it’s a perfectly normal goal and they’re going to be just fine after this LongNight. There is no other for her way to say it. They will be fine. They will.

Perking up a bit as she hears Aamu is staying with Mabel, Wessex nods in agreement. “Good, I’m glad.” Neither of them should be alone, she thinks. And if they can take care of each other, all the better. Unfortunately, she’s run out of things to say and stands there for a moment before offering a suggestion. “I can stay or go. It’s up to you.”

The Wraith will not intrude on her ghosts, but she will chase them away, if need be. For a time. And though her arms and belly are not soft like a mother’s, she will hold her, if Mabel wants that kind of comfort. She would do it for her.
there was a time that we were kind, but now
don't write me, you're not fooling anyone
Mabel Occidendum


Age: 23 | Height: 5'7" | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 3 - Strg: 16 - Dext: 16 - Endr: 16 - Luck: 16 - Int:
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#12
MABEL

After LongNight.

Her grip on the pencil tightened, a clench of her fists, not saying anything to the regards. Absorbing. Contemplating. She could wish all she wanted, and it wouldn’t do any good. Instead, she put the charcoal back to task, leaving the details and remarks to sizzle and chill; the composition wringing in her head.

Mabel had never thought she’d been one to dismiss a Queen, but there was nothing else to be said; too many other things to be done, too many other emotions she’d have to settle in the heartache of the present. The only one left. That echoed and reverberated in her ears too, stayed amidst the dust and ghosts, the collection of ethers and vestiges still residual, still there, clinging to her skin. “I’ll be all right.”

Some day. When she’d had her moment. When she’d had her opportunities.

Because Mabel Occidendum wasn’t done yet. Not by a longshot.

Not again. And not so soon.

{FIN}
I bare my teeth
and stretch my claws out


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