[Training] caught in the undertow

WESSEX out of the night that covers me Not here, not now, but against someone else, some not-demigod, someone of Mabel’s measure and ilk - yes, then daggers would matter. And it’s good for her to have all kinds of experiences to call upon, so she might have something to pull from memory and not be caught unawares - like her sister was. Mabel goes down in a way Wessex hadn’t anticipated (she’d wanted to hinder, really, but this would work too), causing the Queen to side-step in surprise, then scoot back with two feet on a soft oomph as the blade comes swinging by her ankles. It misses, but only barely. So Wessex tries to disarm Mabel by stomping on her wrist and holding it fast - if it were any non-Ascended she’d try a different tactic, but as she can’t feel the pain, why not? black as the pit from pole to pole i thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul

MABEL

Last ditch efforts couldn’t abide by the Wraith either, and something like frustration scored over her lungs. Mabel didn’t expect herself to shine gloriously here, but there had to be better ways of honing her skills than lingering in crosshairs down on the ground.

Speed was her ally in the next moment though, as a boot came very, very close to her wrist. She instinctively rolled away, clutching everything together in a tight little ball, until she could right herself near one of the cavern walls.

Then, without much of a warning at all, the youth charged; not a headlong, unrelenting bout, but a twist, a turn, intending to try and catch Wessex on her left. At least to insinuate she wasn’t a youth to simply fall down, flicker apart, and cease to continue. Too much grit and too much to prove.

I bare my teeth
and stretch my claws out

WESSEX out of the night that covers me She didn’t really want the spar to end this way - with Mabel’s hand pinned to the wet rocks by the Wraith’s foot - so when the girl rolls, evades, and then recoils, she can’t help but let loose a delighted sound. Something happy and encouraging, half cheerleader and half soldier now, the matriarch follows the twisting of the pupil - albeit a touch too slowly. The knife cuts through a bit of her clothing - no skin scratched or blood drawn - but there is a catch and the sound of something ripping underneath her pattering footsteps. Wessex continues turning, making no move to stop Mabel’s charge or catch her before she runs into something else. She must learn when to stop, too. black as the pit from pole to pole i thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul

MABEL

If Mabel felt successful at all with the slim amount of clothing ripping, tearing, or the encouragement from beyond, echoing from Wraith adornments, it was gone as her charge continued. Like a barreling fiend with her knife extended, her arms began to wave and warble, striving to stop herself before –

Before –

The water stretched and loomed, even in the shadows, lurching at her. She skittered across the rocks, the floor, listening to the sound of the stones skipping over to walls or falling into the brink. Only right at the very edge, where the canal jutted through, did the youth manage to cease entirely, her wicked heart beating frantically; rabbit contortions. Leaning backwards, shuffling, shuffling, shuffling away, she couldn’t stop her hands from shaking. “Okay,” she sighed, panting for breaths she didn’t need. “I’ll admit that was stupid.”

I bare my teeth
and stretch my claws out

WESSEX out of the night that covers me Waiting to see where Mabel ends up, Wessex watches as the girl begins to panic at the edge of the water. She edges forward, offering a hand, an arm, or a shoulder if need be. “Well…” she begins, not quite agreeing with her. “Not necessarily. It’s only stupid if you don’t learn anything.” Raising a brow in question, she looks over at the other and tilts her head a bit in a silent inquiry. Did she learn anything? Anything at all, about herself, her speed, the way people move and how she is most successful? Making an effort to indirectly steer them away from the water, the Wraith eases back towards the tunnels and the drier land. No need for self-flagellation or forcing things that do not want to come easily. black as the pit from pole to pole i thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul

MABEL

She shuddered; a mess on the insides and some little abomination on the outside. Yearning to curl back into herself, to become a seething maelstrom, to be pulled in a hundred different directions so the panic flickered away, so everything manifested back into the aspects of reality. Somehow she ended up near the tunnels, no water in her sights, likely the Wraith pulling her onward, and out of whatever brink she’d like to lose herself within.

It was the rush, the zeal, the urgency that made her want to spin and break, rampage onward and push, flicker, devise, and divide. Her hands were like claws and her teeth were like iron and somewhere along the way she’d have to be all steel – she didn’t know how Wessex did it. How she maintained composure. Because everything inward longed to crawl and wither and fade, or blast apart at the seams. “Not to rush,” Mabel whispered at first, a low granule tossed into the seams of the world around them. “But I feel like, if I don’t – there’s no time.”

For war? For revenge? For learning enough to not die again? For anything, really.

I bare my teeth
and stretch my claws out

WESSEX out of the night that covers me Wessex remembers that feeling; years ago, it seemed, when she, too, was a teenager and angry and wanted to take it all out on the world around her. When it felt like she might explode at any given time and spent most nights shooting at things from a perch in a tree. “That’s normal,” Wessex offers, as a small consolation. “Every fighter feels that at some point. Especially when shit hits the fan.” But then there’s another side, a useful side to the kind of energy Mabel might have, bubbling up in excess. “And it’s not always a bad thing. Like in the beginning - have a good opening attack and don’t let your opponent get settled and ready.” That’s where she can use the speed. Where she can take time away from her foe. black as the pit from pole to pole i thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul

MABEL

Consolations and relief; even if Mabel didn’t exude or show it. Or maybe she did, in the loosening of her hands, in the way they didn’t clench over daggers so tightly, in the way her jaw clenched and unclenched, as if trying to savor the thoughts. Frustration and need to decimate; barbs and nettles and thorns in every direction, scouring over her skin, even if she couldn’t truly feel it. “Right.” Pummel and hit hard and don’t look back – set it up in orchestrations of hardships and brutality: ferocity, ferocity, ferocity, echoing like a war drum (ones she’d never heard – but could imagine filling their ears, their senses, when the time came).

Her head lowered, and her chest heaved, and the calm, quiet acceptance began to take over the proportions of madness. “Thank you again. I think that’s probably enough for today.” Certainly plenty to think and mull over, when she permitted herself the opportunity. For now though, it was paramount that she’d survived again, had learned something, and hadn’t fallen face first into the water.

And then they could wander back out into the confines; into shadows and foretold damnation.

{FIN}

I bare my teeth
and stretch my claws out