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@eviji / here
she splits a fish down the middle. its insides fall into a metal bucket and slosh around inside.
her yellow gloves are stained red. the air reeks of dead fish.
"peoples' souls'll bleed on you whether you like it or not."
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@bluedprints: it may have never happened, but my memory of it is real.
she downs the last of her pint. tar-like ale, the sort you never truly get a taste for.
this isn't the sort of place where someone'll notice an empty glass and refill it on a whim. the sun's still shining, and she'll have to get off her ass if she wants another drink.
"may as well've."
@bruisedpenny / call
"you're awake."
clearly, she's been up for hours.
"got an extra pair'a wellies if you're not to good for checkin' crab traps."
@inflame / call
"your mother liked that spot, too."
ironic, given the fact that it's outside. close to the ocean, where all sorts of things might leap out and get her.
@thrownsoul / call
"land just over there, didja now. bit close to the primrose."
on the grey backdrop of the sky behind her little house, it's hard to miss a thing like that. she removes the thick rubber gloves, and dumps them into a metal bucket.
"still upright, i'll give you that."
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it's not my responsibility anymore. alma molly
the angel of indian lake
"responsibility." she repeats, letting that word roll over her tongue and press against the backs of her teeth.
her hands sink into the earth, pulling from it a cluster of weeds which are discarded into a metal bucket.
"if responsibility's not yours, what is?"
"what is wholly your own?"
"a lot can burn down overnight." - to alma, love kate
the angel of indian lake
"Needn't take so long."
She raises her arm above her head and brings it down in one quick, swift movement. The cleaver in her hand separates a fish's head from its body.
"Nor be so careless."
