There's still life in the Armageddon

Evie

I dreamt in the sound of your voice

and bathed in the color of your love

"We are all told ignorance is bliss," she demurs, though she understands the sentiment well. Sighing, her slim shoulder shrug helplessly. "Maybe I did, in another life. I have many regrets; not being braver is a big one." It's why she wears her emotions so brazenly now, and why she strives to conquer any and everything that strikes fear in her heart. It had changed her forever, and she knows it was for the better.

Given she'd failed in her attempts, it feels wrong now to pay homage to her silent efforts, so Evie looks down at her hands in her lap, fingers knotting together restlessly. "I did. My magic was far too weak, but I tried combining them to make magical poultices and other things that I thought I could pass off without suspicion. And every time I touched you..." she shrugs helplessly, recalling how few and far between those attempts had been, knowing her magic wasn't strong enough but still trying. "Only Rishima knew. But she told me time and again it wasn't developed enough." Amalia's mother had taught her everything she knew of plants and poultices, but in the end, she wasn't granted enough time and solitude to train her magic to truly spare Maea from her childhood afflictions. And now...well, she certainly doesn't need Evie's help now, not even when her magic has flourished to heal even matters of the mind. Too little too late.

Maea's nose butting up against her own startles her out of her own head, though she laughs brashly and knocks their foreheads together, charmed despite the somber mood. "I don't mean anything about fearing me. You could simply find me boring," she recoils as if it's scandalous, when in reality it's unfortunately likely. "I can't promise I won't talk magic - it's part of my job now - but I can assure you I'm no origin or font of gossip." She and Deimos live objectively simple lives, and though they're sickeningly in love, they rarely ever have drama coalesce around them of their own creation. But her smile is tentative and sweet, and she hopes against hope that Maea - curious as she'd always been and often to her own detriment - might be inclined to be curious about her. To want to discover the woman she truly is, and all she has built herself into against the odds. Because she'd quite like to do the same in return.

And The most beautiful thought
Is the fact that I have always loved you