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.
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
don't write me, you're not fooling anyone
