Evie
Oh, right. Sometimes it can be hard to know which aspect of Frey someone follows; if you aren't open with it, it can be anyone's guess. But the idea of a party thrown by sex Frey, while a delightfully indecent idea to a younger Evie, is not something she finds herself drawn to now. "I think that's a party I'm happy to miss," she admits, though her eyes dart around a little, as if Frey could somehow hear her saying it. She grins a little bashfully when she catches herself doing it. Some things never change, and being raised with worship for the Heralds being drilled into her head as the only source of being saved, even the smallest comments can feel blasphemous. It's easier now she has met Frey once, and yet all the harder because Frey was the only herald to treat her kindly.
The idea of Darkeye leading is...
Well.
It tastes like ash in her mouth.
She has no qualms with the man, even found his presence to be kindly and respectful, and she had heard of all the things he'd been trying to do to improve the Grounds even before the war. Still, to know there are no Natural Grounders left to lead her birthland...
"He would do well by it," she admits, though her voice is as stiff as her spine as she straightens and turns to look out at the standing trees instead of the felled one at their feet. "What sort of help? Does he have ideas in mind already or -?" as she turns she's greeted with the map in Deimos' hands, and Evie softens immediately, the rigidity of her complex emotions melting away in the face of such a gesture. Her hands take it gingerly, unfolding it immediately to look over the detailed piece. "Thank you," comes softly as her thumb traces the outer line of the outer islands. "It has changed so much." And she has not even returned to see it. It is a guilty weight that settles in her stomach at that realization; but Halo is her home now, and has been for a long time. She couldn't leave it at the end of the war, and she scarcely feels she can leave it now, even for a trip.
The idea of Darkeye leading is...
Well.
It tastes like ash in her mouth.
She has no qualms with the man, even found his presence to be kindly and respectful, and she had heard of all the things he'd been trying to do to improve the Grounds even before the war. Still, to know there are no Natural Grounders left to lead her birthland...
"He would do well by it," she admits, though her voice is as stiff as her spine as she straightens and turns to look out at the standing trees instead of the felled one at their feet. "What sort of help? Does he have ideas in mind already or -?" as she turns she's greeted with the map in Deimos' hands, and Evie softens immediately, the rigidity of her complex emotions melting away in the face of such a gesture. Her hands take it gingerly, unfolding it immediately to look over the detailed piece. "Thank you," comes softly as her thumb traces the outer line of the outer islands. "It has changed so much." And she has not even returned to see it. It is a guilty weight that settles in her stomach at that realization; but Halo is her home now, and has been for a long time. She couldn't leave it at the end of the war, and she scarcely feels she can leave it now, even for a trip.
the difference between a garden and a graveyard
is what we choose to put in the soil
is what we choose to put in the soil
