[se] the poems we write

Evie

Come rest your bones next to me
And toss all your thoughts out to the sea

Though the topic grows more dire, it feels safer to discuss it here in the nursery, in his arms, than she might have otherwise expected. There may have been the fear that it would taint or curse it somehow, but instead it feels like a safety net, a den that holds that tide of black at bay long enough to discuss it plainly.

"The Voice acted alone, but she didn't go to efforts to hold the guise of a human - if Dahlia is human at all." It's concerning how little they know about her, but given how The Voice had operated, Evie can't discount the idea that she might truly be operating alone. "Well, although she must have at least one compatriot, since the voice we keep hearing sounds masculine." But how many more? And would the void creatures bend to their bidding like willing servants when the time came? Just how far did all of this go?

"Something to balance the soldiers, maybe the springs? Or the infirmary?" More men on the field would keep the darkness at bay, but in war there would always be wounded to tend to, and to ignore half of that equation would be disastrous.

"I worry for her as well, but I don't know her well enough to guess at who might have leads or contact with her," she admits fretfully, wishing - as most did when faced with hindsight - that she'd made more inroads with the Heart.

I'll pull up each of our anchors
So we can get lost, you and me