All expectations make her heart feel numb
Dusk filtered down below the horizon, the tree line beckoning with bright, illustrious colors, as she stepped through the house, floorboards creaking, watching the shadows play. She’d kept to the cover of the shelter for most of the day, keeping to her own tidings and misgivings, hadn’t noticed the note on the table until now. Fingers picked it up, snorting a little at the notions of a forge; slipping something else wrapped and adorned in the back of her pockets, before beginning her meander, her stroll, through the cluster and pockets of darkness.
She was familiar with the forge and its location, merely because her family had required items to be mended at one point or another; melded back into shape, into formation, to be utilized again. When she arrived, she barely recognized Aamu, given his painstaking efforts to usually look grand and regal – stifling a laugh at the ear muffs.
How to gain his attention while he worked was another semblance altogether, until she decided she wouldn’t. Eerie and enigmatic, eldritch and elfin, she maneuvered along the floor in near silence, over the pounding of metal, over the flush of suffused steel. Quick, exacting, she found a chair nearby, hovered along it, and made no show of sitting – merely watching like a curious cat, leaning her arms back upon another counter.
She was familiar with the forge and its location, merely because her family had required items to be mended at one point or another; melded back into shape, into formation, to be utilized again. When she arrived, she barely recognized Aamu, given his painstaking efforts to usually look grand and regal – stifling a laugh at the ear muffs.
How to gain his attention while he worked was another semblance altogether, until she decided she wouldn’t. Eerie and enigmatic, eldritch and elfin, she maneuvered along the floor in near silence, over the pounding of metal, over the flush of suffused steel. Quick, exacting, she found a chair nearby, hovered along it, and made no show of sitting – merely watching like a curious cat, leaning her arms back upon another counter.
MABEL
