MABEL
It was very easy for Mabel to slip into any dark thoughts; they occupied a massive amount of her time. If she wasn’t strolling around her house, fixing and repairing things here and there, she was thinking about vengeance and vehemence. If she wasn’t partaking in moonlight strolls, in the eerie, whimsical eaves, then she was consumed by training in her armaments, sliding the hints of steel until they were no longer just inklings and insinuations.
She didn’t know Cameron well, or where they’d come from, or anything else except they were willing, able, and helpful. Some days that would’ve been enough for her, and she’d wrinkle her nose and carry on, alone and aloof. “Where is home?” She asked nonchalantly, driving her dagger into proportions of a gourd so that it littered around her, trails and tails of vines becoming an orange bloodbath.
She didn’t know Cameron well, or where they’d come from, or anything else except they were willing, able, and helpful. Some days that would’ve been enough for her, and she’d wrinkle her nose and carry on, alone and aloof. “Where is home?” She asked nonchalantly, driving her dagger into proportions of a gourd so that it littered around her, trails and tails of vines becoming an orange bloodbath.
I bare my teeth
and stretch my claws out
and stretch my claws out
