EVIE
I want your midnights
As her heart slows and the weight of all that today has wrought settles heavy in her bones, Evie slowly releases the white-knuckled grip she has on both Deimos’ shirt and her own volatile emotions. She won’t allow them more power over her than they deserve, or it will be the same as giving Talyson and Noah that power. “There’s not much we can do aside from a verbal reprimand. He has no rank, and he hasn’t stirred anything more with the Grounds.” They’ll have to record it this time, be it on paper or some other communication, but Evie feels rather at a loss for anything more concrete. “If he does it again, declaring he can’t use it within Halo’s borders? Or with any friendlies around?” That, at least, they could then pair with a consequence with the understanding that it had been communicated to him preemptively. “From there…reparations to the injured party, or temporary banishment from a region if he hurts someone non-Halovian? Gods, what a mess.” She can hide behind the comfort of political phrasing, but she can’t ignore how difficult and frustrating this has all become.
As he leads them to the bench she takes his hand and sinks onto it, as graceless as she is boneless. But this time she can lean sideways into Deimos instead of sinking her head into her hands. Evie’s eyes close immediately, shutting out what she can of the world and its nonsense. “Agreed. And I don’t want to address anything non-emergent for the rest of the damn evening. Maybe even the week. Ask me tomorrow.” The petulance of her youth bleeds through, sharp and churlish. It’s likely she won’t enforce it after a good night’s sleep, but it feels good to say it.
