MABEL
The slow buzzing of the bees in their drowsy state was overshadowed, overwhelmed, by the unexpected cacophony of Henry. For once, all her attention segmented straight back to him – at the differences, at the platitudes, at the quite feral unknown, regarding him as if she’d never seen him before in her life.
Not with the bitterness, the rancor.
Surprised that she survived might’ve been offensive – perhaps he’d seen her as weak – but there were no words to segment edgewise as he began. The anger and open hostility, not towards her, but the world in general, had her hands and fingers gripping one another tightly, woven together in her lap, jaw clenching, chin raised, as if that was all she could do besides facing the bellows.
She flinched; hadn’t meant to. A cautionary, instinctual reaction, blinking away the aggression, the biting, that she hadn’t intended to unfurl. Something sharp and hot twisted in her gut, and she realized it could’ve been anything: anger, sorrow, injustice, eyes narrowing until they might’ve appeared dangerous. A mixture, a conflagration of emotions; same as him, but she’d lost everyone some time ago.
It wasn’t so raw now. Not when she had a plan of action. Knew what she wanted to do.
“I’m sorry,” she offered, because she was. Sorry Henry had to go through that. Sorry LongNight had taken more and more and more, because of the Sparkbird and any other feverish onslaughts. Sorry there was nothing to return to. Sorry that another family had been claimed by the wake of its terrors, trials, and tribulations.
Mabel almost said naught at all about her own venture, and when it did come out, the tones felt hollow, barbed and bare against her fangs. “The barracks caught on fire, so we had to escape. Some stayed behind.” Gone; done in. “We ran to the jail and stayed there. Fought off the monsters that got in.” Survived.
On impulse, her eyes flickered back towards him again, away from the muted ground or the ripples in the glade. “Do you have somewhere to stay?”
Not with the bitterness, the rancor.
Surprised that she survived might’ve been offensive – perhaps he’d seen her as weak – but there were no words to segment edgewise as he began. The anger and open hostility, not towards her, but the world in general, had her hands and fingers gripping one another tightly, woven together in her lap, jaw clenching, chin raised, as if that was all she could do besides facing the bellows.
She flinched; hadn’t meant to. A cautionary, instinctual reaction, blinking away the aggression, the biting, that she hadn’t intended to unfurl. Something sharp and hot twisted in her gut, and she realized it could’ve been anything: anger, sorrow, injustice, eyes narrowing until they might’ve appeared dangerous. A mixture, a conflagration of emotions; same as him, but she’d lost everyone some time ago.
It wasn’t so raw now. Not when she had a plan of action. Knew what she wanted to do.
“I’m sorry,” she offered, because she was. Sorry Henry had to go through that. Sorry LongNight had taken more and more and more, because of the Sparkbird and any other feverish onslaughts. Sorry there was nothing to return to. Sorry that another family had been claimed by the wake of its terrors, trials, and tribulations.
Mabel almost said naught at all about her own venture, and when it did come out, the tones felt hollow, barbed and bare against her fangs. “The barracks caught on fire, so we had to escape. Some stayed behind.” Gone; done in. “We ran to the jail and stayed there. Fought off the monsters that got in.” Survived.
On impulse, her eyes flickered back towards him again, away from the muted ground or the ripples in the glade. “Do you have somewhere to stay?”
Let's go to war to make peace
Let's be cold to create heat
Let's be cold to create heat
