EVIE
She would give him as many moments as he desired for the pleasure of watching him create, and once he begins she scarcely dares to blink. Hands gripping her knees to withhold the desire to reach out and feel the space between his hands where his magic goes to work. Already she can sense its usage, but she longs to know what it feels like on her own skin. Is it the same way her telekinesis feels? Or is it how her healing magic feels? Each of her own feel so different, and aside from the elements being used against her Evie has never felt the power of anything else.
Each little pan of paint is taken with the utmost care, examined with awe instead of the sharp eye he might have intended her to utilize. Fade open and bright like the sun, full of wonder at a level that must seem childlike. He asks the question so plainly, as if he hadn’t just handed her a gift beyond anything she’d received before. The smile that slowly blooms on her face is radiant, and she gently holds the paints all together in both her cupped hands, fingertips curling over their edges to hold them close. “They’re beautiful,” she whispers, unable to manage much louder with the way the emotion in her chest balloons too big for anything more. “Your magic - you - you’re incredible. Thank you.” And she wants to say it over and over and over, but at the same time she’s equally speechless. Evie finds that - sitting on Deimos’ counter, covered in flour and egg, cookie crumbs in her lap and newly created paints held precious in her palms - she’s the happiest she’s ever been.
Each little pan of paint is taken with the utmost care, examined with awe instead of the sharp eye he might have intended her to utilize. Fade open and bright like the sun, full of wonder at a level that must seem childlike. He asks the question so plainly, as if he hadn’t just handed her a gift beyond anything she’d received before. The smile that slowly blooms on her face is radiant, and she gently holds the paints all together in both her cupped hands, fingertips curling over their edges to hold them close. “They’re beautiful,” she whispers, unable to manage much louder with the way the emotion in her chest balloons too big for anything more. “Your magic - you - you’re incredible. Thank you.” And she wants to say it over and over and over, but at the same time she’s equally speechless. Evie finds that - sitting on Deimos’ counter, covered in flour and egg, cookie crumbs in her lap and newly created paints held precious in her palms - she’s the happiest she’s ever been.
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
