Evie
Even if she hadn’t known him a day in her life, she would be able to tell that he would never ask for help by the way his eyes don’t even attempt to search her own. Whether he knows it or not, that is what lends her the certainty that turns her words to stone. Too long he has been left without someone to watch his back, to lend their hands to his in all his efforts and plans. Plans that so often benefitted all others but never solely himself. And though she is scared - because she is, she can feel the hollow in her chest spread like poison with fear - Evie has never felt more certain than in the moment when she sees the shock transform his face.
Which is why she smiles when he tries to object, in the kindest way he knows how. “Good thing you’re not asking then, hm?” A playfulness that is weakened by the seriousness of their topic, but which she infuses out of necessity. To encourage them both to look at this as a way to spread the burden, and not a joined-hand march into the depths of hell.
“Only the people can decide if we are right for them,” she agrees, because she remembers how even when her reign had been in the early days of Ascended flocking to the Grounds, her loyalties had been at odds. “Maybe someone else will be chosen, and then we can laugh about this and make crowns in celebration of responsibilities neatly avoided.” They’d already made crowns of flowers and vines respectively, they’d have to get creative for ones celebrating avoiding becoming Wardens. But seriousness settles around her once more, and she leans her shoulder into his companionably as they kneel before the shrine. “I love Halo,” she murmurs, just enough for him to hear, “I want what’s best for her and her people. Our people. Our friends and neighbors. They’ve struggled too long under a shifting regime.” Always hardy, never faltering entirely, but never advancing as far as they could. “For her safety, for your stability? I’m willing to lead again.” If he asked her to run alone so that he would not have to lead again, she would consider even that, but together they were so much stronger. Evie believes in them. Enough to put herself out there once more, to fully emerge from a self-imposed exile and re-enter the world at last.
Which is why she smiles when he tries to object, in the kindest way he knows how. “Good thing you’re not asking then, hm?” A playfulness that is weakened by the seriousness of their topic, but which she infuses out of necessity. To encourage them both to look at this as a way to spread the burden, and not a joined-hand march into the depths of hell.
“Only the people can decide if we are right for them,” she agrees, because she remembers how even when her reign had been in the early days of Ascended flocking to the Grounds, her loyalties had been at odds. “Maybe someone else will be chosen, and then we can laugh about this and make crowns in celebration of responsibilities neatly avoided.” They’d already made crowns of flowers and vines respectively, they’d have to get creative for ones celebrating avoiding becoming Wardens. But seriousness settles around her once more, and she leans her shoulder into his companionably as they kneel before the shrine. “I love Halo,” she murmurs, just enough for him to hear, “I want what’s best for her and her people. Our people. Our friends and neighbors. They’ve struggled too long under a shifting regime.” Always hardy, never faltering entirely, but never advancing as far as they could. “For her safety, for your stability? I’m willing to lead again.” If he asked her to run alone so that he would not have to lead again, she would consider even that, but together they were so much stronger. Evie believes in them. Enough to put herself out there once more, to fully emerge from a self-imposed exile and re-enter the world at last.
I'll be with you each and every night
Chasing that horizon in your eyes
Chasing that horizon in your eyes
