Evie
i'll plant a row of daisy seeds
in the space beneath each eye
in the space beneath each eye
Healing...Evie's grin is wry, strung tight and sharp like barbed wire. Is she not a healer? An apothecarist long before a gifted magic user? And yet all she sees looking out at the Grounds these days is death, incapable of summoning even the barest shreds of optimism. "Environmentally, perhaps." Will it claim her, too? It seems only fitting. What drive does she have to change that ending?
The arrival of the tumsea seems pointed, with that. And it does put a weight of emotion in her chest that is hard to swallow around, throat clicking with the attempt. His soft, hushed voice seems far too gentle for the likes of her rotted self. "Beautiful," she manages to croak, and then lifts a hand - salty from the seaweed she'd gathered - to roughly brush away the wetness at her lashes she finds summoned there by the tumsea's arrival. Clearing her throat (unsuccessfully, as the words whine slightly with the choked state soon after) Evie gestures back to the mussells. "Where were we?"
The arrival of the tumsea seems pointed, with that. And it does put a weight of emotion in her chest that is hard to swallow around, throat clicking with the attempt. His soft, hushed voice seems far too gentle for the likes of her rotted self. "Beautiful," she manages to croak, and then lifts a hand - salty from the seaweed she'd gathered - to roughly brush away the wetness at her lashes she finds summoned there by the tumsea's arrival. Clearing her throat (unsuccessfully, as the words whine slightly with the choked state soon after) Evie gestures back to the mussells. "Where were we?"
so they'll remind you of your beauty
when they bloom each time you cry
when they bloom each time you cry
