EVIE
I want your midnights
"Don't encourage me then," she says with a smile befitting a particularly ravenous shark. Oh, the idea of teasing Sam for eternity is certainly appealing. And similar to what runs through Sam's mind is present in her own. Maybe they could fix things? Have nights similar to this, easy and comfortable? Or as comfortable as the pair of them could get. Get past the burnt out ruins that their parents had set ablaze between them with their expectations and betrayals. Find new growth beneath the scorched earth, and clasp hands over the wreckage. It's a thought she can't help but entertain. A poetic sort of 'fuck you' to their parents, to the world at large. Evie had always liked those.
Evie lets her head hang back, copper hair falling free over the back of her seat as she stares listlessly at the ceiling. The fact that her best friend, her adopted sister, can't see past the Goddess that lingers at Sam's shoulder is disheartening. But unsurprising, in the end. "Everyone here is obsessed with the Gods," she mumbles bitterly, though her face remains blank and emotionless. There's no reason to summon up her anger, her distaste. "As if our faiths can't coincide. As if we don't have an entire race of people abandoned just for being born. It's stupid." Blasphemy, blasphemy, watch your tongue Evie or the Gods will punish you, she can hear in an insidious susurrous in her head, her parents voices twisting sickly in her mind.
But the Gods can't punish her any more than fate already has.
It's easier to be numb rather than vulnerable, and she shrugs awkwardly as the reality of what she has said comes down on her shoulders. Cringing away from the connection between them. "Since when did you become the optimist?" Evie lobs back at him, aiming for the familiar ground of teasing and sarcasm instead of this shaky, unstable platform of emotion she's standing on. "It's a nice thought though." He deserves to believe in it now, and she hopes that this fellow of his doesn't give her brother reason to doubt that.
