EVIE
Her breath shudders out of her as she forces herself still, to lean into the comforting brush of his palm down her arm instead of giving into the prickling urge to slap his hand away and force distance between them. It's a tenuous battle between hard-won work on her own problems, and reliance on that which has kept her safe and secret her entire life. Her hackles smooth slightly at his soft admission, at him taking her side for once. Especially with The Voice on the line. It's a significant gesture from Sam, and her shoulders relax slightly, though the trembling of her hands won't seem to stop.
"I'm not sure if I would have ever been ready to tell you," she admits weakly, aware of at least that much now that her secret has been forcefully revealed. "The Outlanders are so open with their magic, but they...they just don't get it." They hadn't been beaten down over and over for nearly three decades. Hadn't experienced the ostracizing, the spurning of every Abandoned soul who had the nerve to be open about their designation.
Wobbling back to a straightened position as he speaks, voice low and perfectly cadenced as it has always been - a reader's voice, one that settles her nerves as easily as any soft, crooning comfort Amalia could give - she reaches out to grasp his elbow if only to center herself. To feel less like her knees will buckle any moment. "We can. Finally, we can." There's a heartbreaking tremble to the words, but it's infused with so much hope and gratitude that Evie is surprised her chest has not broken apart with how it seems to overflow inside her. "It's still hard. Every day, every time I use my magic. But I'm sick of hating myself. I'm sick of us hating ourselves." A spark of her normal willfulness returns to blue eyes, a stubbornness that even this cannot erase.
"I'm not sure if I would have ever been ready to tell you," she admits weakly, aware of at least that much now that her secret has been forcefully revealed. "The Outlanders are so open with their magic, but they...they just don't get it." They hadn't been beaten down over and over for nearly three decades. Hadn't experienced the ostracizing, the spurning of every Abandoned soul who had the nerve to be open about their designation.
Wobbling back to a straightened position as he speaks, voice low and perfectly cadenced as it has always been - a reader's voice, one that settles her nerves as easily as any soft, crooning comfort Amalia could give - she reaches out to grasp his elbow if only to center herself. To feel less like her knees will buckle any moment. "We can. Finally, we can." There's a heartbreaking tremble to the words, but it's infused with so much hope and gratitude that Evie is surprised her chest has not broken apart with how it seems to overflow inside her. "It's still hard. Every day, every time I use my magic. But I'm sick of hating myself. I'm sick of us hating ourselves." A spark of her normal willfulness returns to blue eyes, a stubbornness that even this cannot erase.
Don't look up, just let them think
There's no place else you'd rather be
There's no place else you'd rather be
