Evie
Did you ever love her? Do you know?
She will never truly win this battle with the demons in his head, but if Evie Wordsworth was ever known for something, it was sheer stubbornness. She will play tug-of-war with his self-doubt until they're both in their graves, and then Mort will have to play third fiddle to her fervent declarations in the afterlife too.
Okay so maybe she's getting just a little bit delusional now that her brief bout of energy has been exhausted.
Perhaps a little flustered by her own vehemence, she merely nods at the bestowance of his gratitude, hand tightening around his. Zuriel's arrival has her squinting in the half-light, but the wash of magic that sweeps over her has her slumping nearly boneless and at risk of finding herself swiftly horizontal. "Thank you," she manages to murmur, eternally grateful for the proud mare's abilities and her willingness to tend to Evie's arguably self-imposed consequences of her heroism.
Rest sounds even sweeter now that it is a chosen thing, and all the more so on Deimos' quiet rumble. Leaning sideways into him (and unintentionally dragging them both back down to the pillows) Evie tries to squeeze his hand again and manages only a tired pulse. "Yeah," she whispers against his shoulder, eyes already closed and halfway to unconsciousness. "Night, love." She'll rest easier now knowing they're home, that he's at her side; but her hand clings to Deimos' anyway - just to be sure.
- Fin <33
Okay so maybe she's getting just a little bit delusional now that her brief bout of energy has been exhausted.
Perhaps a little flustered by her own vehemence, she merely nods at the bestowance of his gratitude, hand tightening around his. Zuriel's arrival has her squinting in the half-light, but the wash of magic that sweeps over her has her slumping nearly boneless and at risk of finding herself swiftly horizontal. "Thank you," she manages to murmur, eternally grateful for the proud mare's abilities and her willingness to tend to Evie's arguably self-imposed consequences of her heroism.
Rest sounds even sweeter now that it is a chosen thing, and all the more so on Deimos' quiet rumble. Leaning sideways into him (and unintentionally dragging them both back down to the pillows) Evie tries to squeeze his hand again and manages only a tired pulse. "Yeah," she whispers against his shoulder, eyes already closed and halfway to unconsciousness. "Night, love." She'll rest easier now knowing they're home, that he's at her side; but her hand clings to Deimos' anyway - just to be sure.
- Fin <33
Or did you just never want to be alone?
