Come sit right here and sleep while I slip poison in your ear
She had never seen the world like this.
Certainly, under the cloak of midnight, of illustrious shadows, of how she tucked herself away into the depths of desecration and darkness. But not spread out, above, above, above everything – as if the surface was an intangible ether, unimaginable, unreachable fathoms made beautiful and craven. Mabel didn’t even know where they were, uncertain if it mattered, beyond the remnants of ruin.
Below there was naught but greenery and life and color, and had she not been an eagle she might have cried.
She might have growled. She might have torn the petals apart.
And then Aamu was a dragon, scales amidst the cloak of night, blending and bending, and she streamlined, smaller and compact, into and against the void. We can talk like this, she uttered; aware of Attuned natures, of how they could connect and correlate, familiar in the way that Wessex made her announcements known.
This somehow felt better though. In control. Their own.
Not the Wraith’s. She didn’t want that woman anywhere near her thoughts anyway.
A voice, not soft, pierced through again. Do you know where we are?
Certainly, under the cloak of midnight, of illustrious shadows, of how she tucked herself away into the depths of desecration and darkness. But not spread out, above, above, above everything – as if the surface was an intangible ether, unimaginable, unreachable fathoms made beautiful and craven. Mabel didn’t even know where they were, uncertain if it mattered, beyond the remnants of ruin.
Below there was naught but greenery and life and color, and had she not been an eagle she might have cried.
She might have growled. She might have torn the petals apart.
And then Aamu was a dragon, scales amidst the cloak of night, blending and bending, and she streamlined, smaller and compact, into and against the void. We can talk like this, she uttered; aware of Attuned natures, of how they could connect and correlate, familiar in the way that Wessex made her announcements known.
This somehow felt better though. In control. Their own.
Not the Wraith’s. She didn’t want that woman anywhere near her thoughts anyway.
A voice, not soft, pierced through again. Do you know where we are?
MABEL
