There it is, almost like clockwork: the pounding of fists against one of the boarded up temple windows, beating a pattern of desperation and urgency that can only mean one thing. [say]"Help! SOMEBODY HELP US!"[/say] It sounds like a woman, but she doesn't sound alone. Along with the words spoken are youthful shrieks of fear. A child? Two?
It would explain the us.
[say]"P-please, my husband- oh, gods, there was so much blood! Let us in!"[/say] More knocking, more fear. She's clearly terrified out of her wits, and out there alone in the dark... what will she do? What will you?
Already they have lost two.
Deimos and Bastien have secluded themselves deeper within the Temple. Vigilant and immovable in their grief. Rexanna's and Clemente's bodies have been removed, but Evie cannot take her eyes off the door. The one that had killed them with nothing more than a touch. This is why we cannot trust any of the gods, Old or New. Her darker thoughts whisper insidiously. It does not show on her face. Nor does the anxiety over knowing her sister is out there in the oppressive darkness, stronger than Evie will ever be and yet still so fragile in the face of the monsters.
She holds vigil over the door when no others will. She cannot abandon her duties, self-imposed though they may be. So when the frantic pounding starts, though it startles her, Evie stands slowly with a grim expression and moves a little closer. The children's voices make her heart twist instinctively, but the monsters are clever creatures. [Say]"Tell me your names."[/say] If they are truly human, there's no time to spare on minced words, but Evie will not risk everyone inside the temple either. She wishes they'd set up a password once more, some additional measure of security, but what ifs don't matter here and now. Her hand tightens on the hilt of her dagger in preparation.
Tell me your names. Oh, how cold and clever you are, Evie. The woman's frantic voice steadies enough for a comprehensible reply: [say]"Mi- Millicent! Millicent Scotch! Please, oh gods, they- Erin, NO!"[/say]
An ear-piercing shriek, a howl of anguish, and the terrified sobs of a child. These are the only things that tell you what has happened, but the conclusion is clear enough. For Evie, a Natural true and true, the name Millicent Scotch may ring a bell. But the monsters are clever, and they know you well. What are you to trust?
The name rings familiar. As does the scream of despair, the cry of pain, a child stolen away into the dark and the demons the reside within it. Evie squeezes her eyes shut, nails digging into her palms around the dagger. She moves no closer.
If it is Millicent, she would have prepared for LongNight as any longstanding citizen would know to. As any paranoid mother would do. If she hadn't, and Evie is the only one to determine whether to let her in...
She won't.
It's three souls against the many seeking shelter here. All life is precious, but Evie is a Natural, she knows what lies behind that door. What she's risking if she opens it. She's not powerful enough to fight off whatever tries to enter alongside the small family. And she isn't pious enough to pray they make it to Mort. Instead she stands there, stolid and unmoving, listening to the shrieks and cries. Clenching her jaw as she forces herself to listen to the aftermath of her inaction. Bearing the weight of her choice.
[Say]"No. I'm sorry."[/say] And if she has condemned them to death, then she alone is to blame, as the only figure standing at that damnable door.
[say]"Wha- no. No! You have to let us in!"[/say] The pounding grows louder, more frantic now, and the wails of a child escalate as well. [say]"At least take my baby! Please, my baby-"[/say]
But it is too late. Evie's resolution has led to its inevitable conclusion, and a horrific scream rips the air as mother and child are slain. There will be no body to bury, no remains to find. They are gone now, and only the healer will know their last words and breaths.
And when the light returns, Millicent Scotch and her children will not be among those who survived the night.
Evie keeps her eyes shut against the concussive noise of shouts and pleas. Shoulders that have weathered so many LongNights remain unbowed, unshaken. Her own quiet tears of regret, of the weight of responsibility, curve down her freckled cheeks.
When the dawn comes, she will know what she has done. That she condemned a family to death in favor of protecting those hiding inside. That she picked the whole over the these few individual souls. Perhaps someone better, someone stronger and more moral (someone like Amalia, and the thought of her sister's assured anger and disappointment is a knife in the stomach) would have been able to open the door. But Evie, for all her training, is no match for what lays beyond the door.
And still, even when the time comes for her to realize it was not a trick, that she had been judge, jury, and executioner...
Evie will not change her mind. In this moment she is the wall that breaks the tidal wives, and she cannot afford to crumble.
- FIN
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