Evie
Did you ever love her? Do you know?
They’ll never know. At least Evie won’t. Wessex, maybe, if the two ever meet in the Ascended-only afterlife. And doesn’t that hurt, too? That Evie can’t even see the only member of their family they truly cared about beyond the surface level of blood ties, all because of the separation of these deities that cannot seem to share space.
Is this the final straw? It feels like the metaphor itself. The broken strand that symbolized her remaining will. Ludo’s cruel words, the eternal absence from the Gods, and now this? Her brother’s life, stolen and sequestered away forever, all because a priest decided he followed the wrong God?
“My healing magic won’t work on you as it is, but the rest is yours,” her voice is dark and cold in contrast to the warmth in her cheeks. Lifting her gaze to Wessex, her hand folds tighter over Sam’s rigid one. “You have me, Wessex. I have nothing more I can lose.” And that makes her dangerous, doesn’t it?
Looking back down at Sam’s face, Evie’s eyes burn in true for the first time. I wish my support of you could have been something more than a furtive thing, she thinks, and hopes somewhere he hears it. I wish I’d never left you to this place when I know how quickly it takes. I wish we’d never been born the way we were - both unwanted and trying to find our places. Things she can’t say because of the company she shares, but which overrun her head all the same. Except - “Gods, Sam, I hope you’re at peace where you are.” It’s barely more than a whisper as she leans to press her lips to his brow, and tries to ignore how wrong he feels beneath that touch.
Is this the final straw? It feels like the metaphor itself. The broken strand that symbolized her remaining will. Ludo’s cruel words, the eternal absence from the Gods, and now this? Her brother’s life, stolen and sequestered away forever, all because a priest decided he followed the wrong God?
“My healing magic won’t work on you as it is, but the rest is yours,” her voice is dark and cold in contrast to the warmth in her cheeks. Lifting her gaze to Wessex, her hand folds tighter over Sam’s rigid one. “You have me, Wessex. I have nothing more I can lose.” And that makes her dangerous, doesn’t it?
Looking back down at Sam’s face, Evie’s eyes burn in true for the first time. I wish my support of you could have been something more than a furtive thing, she thinks, and hopes somewhere he hears it. I wish I’d never left you to this place when I know how quickly it takes. I wish we’d never been born the way we were - both unwanted and trying to find our places. Things she can’t say because of the company she shares, but which overrun her head all the same. Except - “Gods, Sam, I hope you’re at peace where you are.” It’s barely more than a whisper as she leans to press her lips to his brow, and tries to ignore how wrong he feels beneath that touch.
Or did you just never want to be alone?
