EVIE
Evie doesn't move too close, doesn't crowd the boy that stands before Deimos with no sign of fear or intimidation. She hadn't known the other teenager beyond Dante's shared memories, had never done more than nod or smile in greeting. The boys had gravitated to different women, and Evie feels grief only at the loss of potential. Of life that every teenager should be assured. It makes her sick, sicker than she's ever felt, that Safrin would do this with her brother's fluid. That she would unashamedly murder an innocent boy, who had been brought already changed to this world, who had never uttered a word of consent and yet been thrust into the war between deities nevertheless.
War should never be fought with children. And here lies the pawn between two greater powers, no better than a lamb to slaughter.
And Dante...Dante is left in the wake of it. Just another mourning soul, left behind with nothing but memories and a lingering anger and grief that she cannot spare him from. Evie flinches at his outburst, so consumed in her own useless despair over this war that has defined her life from birth. The Abandoneds. The barrier. What part of the gods' bias has not tainted her life by now?
She is helpless to stand aside as he turns to her, wiping at his tears even as everything around him withers. Evie knows now what power he wields, has experienced it herself, and yet she goes to him fearlessly. Let him draw upon her if he needs. Let him rail against this unfair world that has stolen the only familiar thing he had. But let him do it while safely ensconced within her arms which come to cradle him close. To tuck him into her chest, and shield him with the curtain of her wildfire hair. Her own tears longer silently in the crest of her lashes, needing to be strong for this boy she loves so dearly. Kneeling there with him on the floor among the wreckage. "I'm so sorry, Dante." Her voice breaks. What can she say? There are no platitudes that will matter. Nothing that can take away this pain except time and the warmth of her arms, the assurance that she will never leave his side.
War should never be fought with children. And here lies the pawn between two greater powers, no better than a lamb to slaughter.
And Dante...Dante is left in the wake of it. Just another mourning soul, left behind with nothing but memories and a lingering anger and grief that she cannot spare him from. Evie flinches at his outburst, so consumed in her own useless despair over this war that has defined her life from birth. The Abandoneds. The barrier. What part of the gods' bias has not tainted her life by now?
She is helpless to stand aside as he turns to her, wiping at his tears even as everything around him withers. Evie knows now what power he wields, has experienced it herself, and yet she goes to him fearlessly. Let him draw upon her if he needs. Let him rail against this unfair world that has stolen the only familiar thing he had. But let him do it while safely ensconced within her arms which come to cradle him close. To tuck him into her chest, and shield him with the curtain of her wildfire hair. Her own tears longer silently in the crest of her lashes, needing to be strong for this boy she loves so dearly. Kneeling there with him on the floor among the wreckage. "I'm so sorry, Dante." Her voice breaks. What can she say? There are no platitudes that will matter. Nothing that can take away this pain except time and the warmth of her arms, the assurance that she will never leave his side.
Don't look up, just let them think
There's no place else you'd rather be
There's no place else you'd rather be
