it's too good to be true; gospel

[gospel]

BY THE PRICKING OF MY THUMBS
SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES

She had known they were there.
Of course she had.

The alarm was only silent to those who did not call the Cove home. The mare had triggered it without ever knowing that she had. And, doing her due diligence, Gospel had gone to investigate. But the mare was no threat, so Gospel had left her to the throes of her labor and returned to whatever dark corner she had found to inhabit.

And still, she is found. Not that she had been hiding, per se, but she made herself scarce for a reason. She lifts her proud head, blinks those reptilian eyes, skirts her tongue across the edge of a fanged tooth and turns to face the mare. Glances only briefly in the child’s direction. There is nothing particularly noteworthy about him and she never cared much for children anyway. She had given birth to her own, reared them the best she knew how, and then encouraged them to leave her alone.

Clarissa. Something dark coils neatly in the narrow space beside her heart, twists her mouth into a smirk. “And what business does Clarissa have telling you to find me?” She asks, the tone cold as the rest of her.

The painted mare looks down at her son and Gospel follows her gaze, takes a beat to study the boy’s face. Skims the tongue across the fanged tooth again, lets the venom slow the heartbeat as she drags her focus back to the mother’s face. “What do you have to offer us?”

gospel

@[evarae]