EVIE
I want your midnights
"There's no shame in a victory cry," she retorts primly, though her blue gaze is warm with amusement. It's a common contention between them, an old fight that she revels in always winning. Though it does hurt to be reminded that while she ages, Sam does not. Will not. Her smile slips a little, becomes a concentrated effort instead of a naturally flourishing expression. It seems unnatural, wrong, to have been born together and yet die so far apart. "I'm getting there, but at least I'll age with grace while you just look like you forever." It's a tragedy she has never cared about before, and yet here she is, grieving her own mortal life. Grieving her brother's agelessness in equal measure. Neither seems like a gift. It's easier to focus on his embarrassment, grin only growing perpetually wider at his adorably flustered reaction. With a soft cackle of satisfaction she lets him be, if only because she has achieved the response she wanted. His subsequent moroseness is a sharp contrast, and Evie looks away uncomfortably as he vehemently - or as much as someone like Sam can - speaks up against her trailing question. Shrugs a delicate shoulder and sighs softly. "I suppose I meant romantically. I still have you and Amalia." Truly all she had at this point in time, small meetings with various others aside. I still have you, right? It goes unsaid, unasked. She doesn't have the right to ask it with their particular history. "But my time will come eventually. I don't think it would be so bad, to avoid the heartache that comes with love." Already she was approaching to be one of the older souls in the sanctuary. So many young Outlanders, and so many who had died in the wars between the Gods. While being a spinster hadn't been her goal when she was young, she was finding it was easier sometimes to retreat to her apothecary in solitude and enjoy whoever happened to visit her.
Ew, was she growing up? Gross.
