MABEL
Why? Because she’d been born into a world that required the serrated edge, the dagger in her hand, the restlessness etching and sketching a needlework of compositions and hellholes. Because the hilt of a keen instrument had never failed her. Because she’d cut away the bridges and torrents. Because she’d dug in and found something to hold onto, even if it was the jagged threshold of vengeance and hard won survival. “They’re familiar. I’ve known knives all my life.”
She rolled her shoulders and fixed her eyes on waving blades of grass once more, listening to the idle buzzing, the songs she didn’t have, didn’t know, couldn’t place. Maybe she wasn’t made of those entanglements anymore either.
He didn’t answer her though, and her gaze rounded back to him on a more narrowed scale. Dodging, reeling away, pressing it back upon her. But she had her response ready, on the tip of her tongue, always there. “I want more information about who murdered my sister.” Stare unblinking and fierce, to watch and gauge his reaction. “So I can do the same to them.” Honest and forthright – plans for destruction and revenge. And if it was to be a vicious cycle, then so be it.
But then everything else softened and she had a difficult time following the tracks and lines – a quizzical tilt to her head, to her brow, to the way he constantly offered himself over. She nearly told him he was better than that. But perhaps he wasn’t. “Yes,” came again instead.
She rolled her shoulders and fixed her eyes on waving blades of grass once more, listening to the idle buzzing, the songs she didn’t have, didn’t know, couldn’t place. Maybe she wasn’t made of those entanglements anymore either.
He didn’t answer her though, and her gaze rounded back to him on a more narrowed scale. Dodging, reeling away, pressing it back upon her. But she had her response ready, on the tip of her tongue, always there. “I want more information about who murdered my sister.” Stare unblinking and fierce, to watch and gauge his reaction. “So I can do the same to them.” Honest and forthright – plans for destruction and revenge. And if it was to be a vicious cycle, then so be it.
But then everything else softened and she had a difficult time following the tracks and lines – a quizzical tilt to her head, to her brow, to the way he constantly offered himself over. She nearly told him he was better than that. But perhaps he wasn’t. “Yes,” came again instead.
Let's go to war to make peace
Let's be cold to create heat
Let's be cold to create heat
