EVIE
Admittedly Evie has always assumed he has had someone to be his shelter, his escape. Blame it on the carry over of when Amalia used to be that person, or assuming that surely other people must care for him the way she does, but the color in his cheeks and the well of sincerity in his simple gratitude is all the evidence she needs to realize how wrong she was. Heart squeezing painfully with a wave of empathy, she keeps her eyes unwavering on his own, wishing their hands weren’t full so she might touch his. But for now, the open expression she dons has to be enough. “Of course, Deimos. Always.” No matter the circumstances, he would always have shelter with her. It only seemed fair with the title the people had given her. Her boughs would always have enough room for him to rest beneath.
Suspecting that would be the extent of emotion he could stomach for that moment, Evie lets their conversation sweep them away to easier waters. Though she can’t control the slightly playful doubt that creeps onto her face, the prospect of better locations is enticing enough to keep her interest piqued. “We’ll have to make a day or two of it then, and you can try and prove to me it has its own beauty,” she declares, and maneuvers her free hand between them to shake on it. “Like a mini vacation. Sound good?” And maybe, if it was an enjoyable time, perhaps he’d be open to letting her do the same. To finally talk about her isolation by showing him where she’d lived, all the beautiful places she’d found and had never been able to share.
Distaste is prominent even with his carefully chosen words, and Evie can’t help but laugh at the charming display of rarely seen disgust. “I admit I don’t like the desert much either. But have you been to the oasis there, or the caravans? They’re the only salvageable areas, but I think you’d like them.” And Evie is suddenly, direly curious to see Deimos in swim trunks and flipflops. So at odds with his normal attire and surroundings that even the image makes her bite her tongue hard to not dissolve into hysterics that would make no sense from the outside.
Luckily his answer provides reason enough to grin, slightly devilish. “I can’t fault you for that when your available targets seem so fun.” She’d met Talyson and Sah all of once and already had been roped into terrorizing them - quite gladly, and she would happily do it again. Nibbling her cookie, she hums contemplatively. Gardening and crossbreeding plants were enjoyable, but unsurprising, and too deeply tied into her job. She’d already told him of the cider too. “Sam would keel over if he’d ever had a chance to find out,” she begins slowly, and is relieved when her smile saddens but doesn’t waver, “but I really enjoy reading romance novels. I used to sneak them from his shop.” Aside from youthful entanglements with Rory, Evie had never experienced love like that, and though she’d hidden it like so many other facets of herself the joy of disappearing into someone else’s life would never fade. “And painting, though I don’t think I’m that great at it.” Preferring abstract and nature over portraits or sketchbooks. Utilizing hands and uncommon materials, an outlet for feeling more than refined skill. “Do you do anything artsy?” She wouldn’t be surprised if so, he was unfairly well-rounded in his talents and skills alike.
Suspecting that would be the extent of emotion he could stomach for that moment, Evie lets their conversation sweep them away to easier waters. Though she can’t control the slightly playful doubt that creeps onto her face, the prospect of better locations is enticing enough to keep her interest piqued. “We’ll have to make a day or two of it then, and you can try and prove to me it has its own beauty,” she declares, and maneuvers her free hand between them to shake on it. “Like a mini vacation. Sound good?” And maybe, if it was an enjoyable time, perhaps he’d be open to letting her do the same. To finally talk about her isolation by showing him where she’d lived, all the beautiful places she’d found and had never been able to share.
Distaste is prominent even with his carefully chosen words, and Evie can’t help but laugh at the charming display of rarely seen disgust. “I admit I don’t like the desert much either. But have you been to the oasis there, or the caravans? They’re the only salvageable areas, but I think you’d like them.” And Evie is suddenly, direly curious to see Deimos in swim trunks and flipflops. So at odds with his normal attire and surroundings that even the image makes her bite her tongue hard to not dissolve into hysterics that would make no sense from the outside.
Luckily his answer provides reason enough to grin, slightly devilish. “I can’t fault you for that when your available targets seem so fun.” She’d met Talyson and Sah all of once and already had been roped into terrorizing them - quite gladly, and she would happily do it again. Nibbling her cookie, she hums contemplatively. Gardening and crossbreeding plants were enjoyable, but unsurprising, and too deeply tied into her job. She’d already told him of the cider too. “Sam would keel over if he’d ever had a chance to find out,” she begins slowly, and is relieved when her smile saddens but doesn’t waver, “but I really enjoy reading romance novels. I used to sneak them from his shop.” Aside from youthful entanglements with Rory, Evie had never experienced love like that, and though she’d hidden it like so many other facets of herself the joy of disappearing into someone else’s life would never fade. “And painting, though I don’t think I’m that great at it.” Preferring abstract and nature over portraits or sketchbooks. Utilizing hands and uncommon materials, an outlet for feeling more than refined skill. “Do you do anything artsy?” She wouldn’t be surprised if so, he was unfairly well-rounded in his talents and skills alike.
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
