Evie
Complicated is as good as damning for a man as reticent on the topic of romance as Hadama, but Evie strives to suppress any reaction to the allowance from showing on her face. It's something to consider and mull over while he continues, a mere fragment to this sharp-edged glass mosaic she's trying to put to rights.
"And yet you left with Maea instead of staying to determine whether she meant to hunt or observe," she points out, voice hardly a murmur but eyes unflinchingly level with Hadama's, whether he meets her gaze or not. "I'm not going to lecture you with the privilege of hindsight, or acting on emotion. I fully intended to abandon everyone there to whatever fate may meet them if it meant getting Erebos out." A bald confession that is utterly shameless and free of any shred of doubt. Evie would have done it in a millisecond, and even if her own husband had perished she would known in her heart that he would have wanted her to. She's not faulting him for being human.
"You pulled her away regardless. You took her outside. You made a choice between her and everyone else in that room." Including me and my son. It's unspoken, but weighs heavy in the air between them.
Yet, seemingly at odds with what she says, Evie reaches a hand across the table and lays it palm-up with fingers lax and inviting. "Complicated or not, I know where I stand in your considerations now. It's not where I hoped I might be," she confesses, a wrinkle on one side of her mouth turning her smile wry and sorrowful, but ultimately understanding. "And it has reduced my trust in you, I won't deny that." Greatly, and perhaps she's being hypocritical and unfair when she would have abandoned him for her son's assured safety, but an infant child and an unactualized romantic interest are very different in her eyes. "But you're my friend, Hadama. I want to keep that. I want to give us the chance to rebuild that trust." And her open hand says if you're willing.
"And yet you left with Maea instead of staying to determine whether she meant to hunt or observe," she points out, voice hardly a murmur but eyes unflinchingly level with Hadama's, whether he meets her gaze or not. "I'm not going to lecture you with the privilege of hindsight, or acting on emotion. I fully intended to abandon everyone there to whatever fate may meet them if it meant getting Erebos out." A bald confession that is utterly shameless and free of any shred of doubt. Evie would have done it in a millisecond, and even if her own husband had perished she would known in her heart that he would have wanted her to. She's not faulting him for being human.
"You pulled her away regardless. You took her outside. You made a choice between her and everyone else in that room." Including me and my son. It's unspoken, but weighs heavy in the air between them.
Yet, seemingly at odds with what she says, Evie reaches a hand across the table and lays it palm-up with fingers lax and inviting. "Complicated or not, I know where I stand in your considerations now. It's not where I hoped I might be," she confesses, a wrinkle on one side of her mouth turning her smile wry and sorrowful, but ultimately understanding. "And it has reduced my trust in you, I won't deny that." Greatly, and perhaps she's being hypocritical and unfair when she would have abandoned him for her son's assured safety, but an infant child and an unactualized romantic interest are very different in her eyes. "But you're my friend, Hadama. I want to keep that. I want to give us the chance to rebuild that trust." And her open hand says if you're willing.
listen carefully to the sound of your loneliness
like a heartbeat that drives you mad
like a heartbeat that drives you mad
