MABEL
The dusk called out to her, as it so often did, with her hand clasped around her knives and her withered heart beating for control. So she lulled and lingered in the threads of impending night, out into the folds of shadows and darkness, home in its stillness, in its tranquility, until she’d wandered deeper into the flesh and threshold of the world that had always made up her home. The labyrinth was just another portion of the backdrop, the background, slated in its mysteries, in its enigmas, in the weight of its potential misery, in the way all the siblings once goaded each other to reign supreme in its mystical wake.
She did for them tonight.
Well, on the outskirts, kneeling, sharpening her knives on the whetstone. The edges became more serrated, more lethal, deadly, and she hid her disappointment in their lack of use during LongNight in the way she arranged them now. Beautiful and wondrous, chaotic and belligerent, glistening in the moonlight, until she picked one, and then turned towards the target she’d concocted.
Up against one of the many walls of the warren, she’d lifted the edges of a stump – clearly someone had taken and rendered apart the rest of the timber for something far more useful – and positioned it with vines so it maintained its steady composition. Unless some of the irritating squirrels came around (and then she’d use them for another mark), Mabel figured it’d remain tethered, no matter how much force she put into it.
So she flicked one of the blade in her grasp, and then just as so many had taught her, followed through on the motions.
She did for them tonight.
Well, on the outskirts, kneeling, sharpening her knives on the whetstone. The edges became more serrated, more lethal, deadly, and she hid her disappointment in their lack of use during LongNight in the way she arranged them now. Beautiful and wondrous, chaotic and belligerent, glistening in the moonlight, until she picked one, and then turned towards the target she’d concocted.
Up against one of the many walls of the warren, she’d lifted the edges of a stump – clearly someone had taken and rendered apart the rest of the timber for something far more useful – and positioned it with vines so it maintained its steady composition. Unless some of the irritating squirrels came around (and then she’d use them for another mark), Mabel figured it’d remain tethered, no matter how much force she put into it.
So she flicked one of the blade in her grasp, and then just as so many had taught her, followed through on the motions.
Let's go to war to make peace
Let's be cold to create heat
Let's be cold to create heat
