Come sit right here and sleep while I slip poison in your ear
She watched while he drank and coordinated his thoughts; she remained as a quiet little maelstrom in fields of mounds and barrows, where the dead rested behind doors and grass, where time no longer pierced and punctured, where other things were meant to simply cease. Maybe it was best he didn’t ask her to join along the puddle – her fear of the water had not yet abated or desisted. The only time she’d seek it out was to know how and where to avoid it; broken locations, unending nightmares.
But the youth didn’t hang her eagle head, tilting it to listen, to pick up on the intonations flickering and sliding through. Not her fault. Not useless.
Overlooked and underappreciated instead. Mabel laughed – quick and hollow. Not as strong, not as capable, not as talented as the rest. It would make sense that they wouldn’t see her. Not until she did something noteworthy or conquered a common enemy. Even when she’d attempted to concoct that stupid house for LongNight, the exalted Queen had quickly taken over.
To everything else she stayed silent. Except for that last question, because her eyes narrowed into mutinous little threads, and she had half an inclination to spread sedition where she saw fit. Don’t you think it’s odd we had no say? No choice? No provisions? Newly arrived, resurrected, given life again, only to be tossed right back to the wolves? And she could howl, but only for so long, only so far. Plans were mostly orchestrated by her, even when others had clearly tried… for something else. Not the chaotic semblance they’d been given and granted. Couldn’t we have voted again? Who cared about the monsters? Mabel wasn’t certain what she was implying; but it was enough of a start. It seemed she just sent us out there to die. And it didn’t seem to matter if they’d been prepared for it or not.
But the youth didn’t hang her eagle head, tilting it to listen, to pick up on the intonations flickering and sliding through. Not her fault. Not useless.
Overlooked and underappreciated instead. Mabel laughed – quick and hollow. Not as strong, not as capable, not as talented as the rest. It would make sense that they wouldn’t see her. Not until she did something noteworthy or conquered a common enemy. Even when she’d attempted to concoct that stupid house for LongNight, the exalted Queen had quickly taken over.
To everything else she stayed silent. Except for that last question, because her eyes narrowed into mutinous little threads, and she had half an inclination to spread sedition where she saw fit. Don’t you think it’s odd we had no say? No choice? No provisions? Newly arrived, resurrected, given life again, only to be tossed right back to the wolves? And she could howl, but only for so long, only so far. Plans were mostly orchestrated by her, even when others had clearly tried… for something else. Not the chaotic semblance they’d been given and granted. Couldn’t we have voted again? Who cared about the monsters? Mabel wasn’t certain what she was implying; but it was enough of a start. It seemed she just sent us out there to die. And it didn’t seem to matter if they’d been prepared for it or not.
MABEL
