EVIE
Evie has to bite her lip to try and muffle the giggles at his deep-chested, horrified groan. They’re admittedly audible regardless, but she does try. “Maybe it’s a Halo thing, they can’t help it,” she teases with a vixen smirk, cheerily leveraging her Grounder birthland in genial rivalry with the land she now lives in, “and the only reason you’re immune is because you’re an Outlander.” And why he was the bastion of the land, protecting and corralling at the same time.
Brushing crumbs from her lap into her palm to avoid having to gaze upon his teasing expression, acting like it was an action of great importance, her shoulders shake with laughter as she deposits them into one of the dirty bowls. “Don’t push your luck or you’ll find one on your dining room table,” her nose wrinkles in a lifetime-long habit of girlish teasing, always betraying when she is full to the brim with lightheartedness. “Good thing we’re old enough to make our own pies now, hm?” Evie taps her fingertips on the pan of cookies with a smile. “Even if we picked the wrong type today.” Though pie was far harder to share at a festival.
Deimos’ silence makes her tilt her head after a few moments too long, brow just beginning to crinkle in concern before he speaks. Her eyes widen and her cheeks go freshly pink, empty hands waving the gesture away in anxious little flutters. “Oh, no Deimos I couldn’t. Your magic it’s…it’s beautiful and can do so much, don’t waste it on something silly like that.” Like Evie and her old interests. It’s a grand gesture to even offer, but she can only think of what those pigments and brushes would take the place of; armaments, emergency supplies, who knows what else? Her desires seem so insignificant in comparison. “Maybe once I’ve built up my practice more I can afford to trade for some supplies.” Intended to comfort or reassure him, even if she’d likely forget - focused too much on the aiding of others, the hours of work that could fill her day instead. In this, they were far too alike.
Brushing crumbs from her lap into her palm to avoid having to gaze upon his teasing expression, acting like it was an action of great importance, her shoulders shake with laughter as she deposits them into one of the dirty bowls. “Don’t push your luck or you’ll find one on your dining room table,” her nose wrinkles in a lifetime-long habit of girlish teasing, always betraying when she is full to the brim with lightheartedness. “Good thing we’re old enough to make our own pies now, hm?” Evie taps her fingertips on the pan of cookies with a smile. “Even if we picked the wrong type today.” Though pie was far harder to share at a festival.
Deimos’ silence makes her tilt her head after a few moments too long, brow just beginning to crinkle in concern before he speaks. Her eyes widen and her cheeks go freshly pink, empty hands waving the gesture away in anxious little flutters. “Oh, no Deimos I couldn’t. Your magic it’s…it’s beautiful and can do so much, don’t waste it on something silly like that.” Like Evie and her old interests. It’s a grand gesture to even offer, but she can only think of what those pigments and brushes would take the place of; armaments, emergency supplies, who knows what else? Her desires seem so insignificant in comparison. “Maybe once I’ve built up my practice more I can afford to trade for some supplies.” Intended to comfort or reassure him, even if she’d likely forget - focused too much on the aiding of others, the hours of work that could fill her day instead. In this, they were far too 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
