EVIE
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” is her lofty, nasally response, affecting an arrogant facade of ignorance that crumbles into a bright smile moments later. While most of the Naturals had been wary - and weary - of the Outlanders and their increasing numbers, Evie had outgrown that mindset swiftly enough upon realizing how comfortable and accepting they all were of magic. Her life had changed for the better with the wave of change they’d brought with them. Deimos in particular. He had changed the course of her life more than he would ever know.
Blue eyes spark at the challenge inlaid into his warning, mischief rising like a wave in her expression. “The bookstore will be ecstatic when I visit daily to buy replacements then.” It’s a relatively empty threat - Evie is far too solidly a Grounder for such wastefulness, but maybe just once…
She watches as he easily uses another magical talent of his to busy his hands, nearly distracting her with a moment of admiration that has her slow to recognize his words. Pausing and deliberating for a few long moments even after he gives her an out, her teeth play anxiously with her bottom lip as she watches his hands instead of his face. It feels selfish, and while she’d been selfish as a cruel youth it had never been in a material sense even then. The trait itself had long been outgrown. But she doesn’t want to distrust or discredit when he reassures, so eventually she lifts her gaze to his and tries for an uncertain smile. “If you’re sure. Could I maybe watch you make them though?” It’s an uncharacteristic uncertainty, but with magic she can never seem to fully shake it.
Blue eyes spark at the challenge inlaid into his warning, mischief rising like a wave in her expression. “The bookstore will be ecstatic when I visit daily to buy replacements then.” It’s a relatively empty threat - Evie is far too solidly a Grounder for such wastefulness, but maybe just once…
She watches as he easily uses another magical talent of his to busy his hands, nearly distracting her with a moment of admiration that has her slow to recognize his words. Pausing and deliberating for a few long moments even after he gives her an out, her teeth play anxiously with her bottom lip as she watches his hands instead of his face. It feels selfish, and while she’d been selfish as a cruel youth it had never been in a material sense even then. The trait itself had long been outgrown. But she doesn’t want to distrust or discredit when he reassures, so eventually she lifts her gaze to his and tries for an uncertain smile. “If you’re sure. Could I maybe watch you make them though?” It’s an uncharacteristic uncertainty, but with magic she can never seem to fully shake it.
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
