EVIE
Her scoff is prelude to answer enough, but she shakes her head, momentarily wondering at the lack of hair against her cheeks until she recalls her bun. Admittedly she doesn’t wear one often - too self-conscious about the soft roundness of her cheeks that weight could never diminish, and the healthy dose of freckles over the tops of them - so the lack of drag and flail is startling. “Gods, no! Nature has its own cycles, death is one of them. Sometimes I just…hasten it along,” she drawls with feigned innocence. Precisely why she is no hunter or soldier, but has no qualms with killing either. Admittedly though, most Grounders had that mentality by virtue of their upbringing.
He is perhaps stronger than she gives him credit for, to dance so close to old wounds perhaps not fearlessly, but intentionally. Refusing to let Amalia’s memory shadow them forever. She follows trepidatiously in his footsteps, his inquiry making her think back to her trophy. “It was incredibly lightweight, almost weightless for its size. But tougher than anything I’ve encountered yet, the forgemaster couldn’t even make a dent in it!” Which was impressive, especially when most craft masters in Halo were aided by magic.
Evie nods her pleased approval at his choice of extract, the pleasant vanilla aroma that rises making her hum happily, eyelashes fluttering slightly with the urge to bask in it. In the end the temptation for cookies is stronger though, and as Deimos reaches for the flour Evie preps herself for the inevitable arm workout that approaches. Only that isn’t his goal, and as it puffs into the air a laugh startles out of the Evergreen. “Ohhhh no, we definitely should have gotten aprons,” she manages to eek out between bubbles of laughter.
He is perhaps stronger than she gives him credit for, to dance so close to old wounds perhaps not fearlessly, but intentionally. Refusing to let Amalia’s memory shadow them forever. She follows trepidatiously in his footsteps, his inquiry making her think back to her trophy. “It was incredibly lightweight, almost weightless for its size. But tougher than anything I’ve encountered yet, the forgemaster couldn’t even make a dent in it!” Which was impressive, especially when most craft masters in Halo were aided by magic.
Evie nods her pleased approval at his choice of extract, the pleasant vanilla aroma that rises making her hum happily, eyelashes fluttering slightly with the urge to bask in it. In the end the temptation for cookies is stronger though, and as Deimos reaches for the flour Evie preps herself for the inevitable arm workout that approaches. Only that isn’t his goal, and as it puffs into the air a laugh startles out of the Evergreen. “Ohhhh no, we definitely should have gotten aprons,” she manages to eek out between bubbles of laughter.
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
