MABEL
Where else was she supposed to go?
Her family was dead, and the last the one inexplicably bonded to her soul. Where else should she have traversed but straight into revenge, into the particulars of menace and might, where she could scratch, rip, claw, and tear the murderer apart?
She wouldn’t, couldn’t, even worry about thereafter. That would come with success, with survival, with everything else linked into thresholds and war.
So she sunk her fangs into his flesh and tried desperately to ignore the wanton ache for release, the tension building behind her spine and within her eyes, the seeking, relishing, salacious way in which the world spiraled around her senses – until he gave an impromptu cease and desist.
Then she stepped away, nodding, some measure of thanks in that movement, before they were a pair on the wind: feathers and plumage and wings unfurled, taken to the sky without a next thought. Impulsive and winding, climbing, ascending into the early evening, with the brush and touch of shadows, with the last fibers of the water lingering behind. It always feels like freedom she murmured between them, accustomed to the shared bond after her experience with Aamu – dragons and eagles, coasting over King’s End. But she had nothing else to give him – nothing in return.
Her family was dead, and the last the one inexplicably bonded to her soul. Where else should she have traversed but straight into revenge, into the particulars of menace and might, where she could scratch, rip, claw, and tear the murderer apart?
She wouldn’t, couldn’t, even worry about thereafter. That would come with success, with survival, with everything else linked into thresholds and war.
So she sunk her fangs into his flesh and tried desperately to ignore the wanton ache for release, the tension building behind her spine and within her eyes, the seeking, relishing, salacious way in which the world spiraled around her senses – until he gave an impromptu cease and desist.
Then she stepped away, nodding, some measure of thanks in that movement, before they were a pair on the wind: feathers and plumage and wings unfurled, taken to the sky without a next thought. Impulsive and winding, climbing, ascending into the early evening, with the brush and touch of shadows, with the last fibers of the water lingering behind. It always feels like freedom she murmured between them, accustomed to the shared bond after her experience with Aamu – dragons and eagles, coasting over King’s End. But she had nothing else to give him – nothing in return.
Let's go to war to make peace
Let's be cold to create heat
Let's be cold to create heat
