Evie
When hope and peace begin to fray
The cascade of wet hair down his shoulders shouldn’t look unfairly practiced and poised compared to her own long strands clinging to every curve of her shoulders and spine, but Evie is coming to the frustrating realization that Deimos’ composure is unfortunately legendary. It only emphasizes her disadvantage as someone who has an abysmal poker face in comparison.
It shouldn’t surprise her that he doesn’t concede defeat, now that she knows his own nudity is no bother. Even so, standing so close she is keenly aware of how she has to tilt her head to look up at him, and she’s torn between an unfair awareness of how out of her depth she is, and a constant striving stubbornness that insists if she just doesn’t back down…
The deluge makes her shoulders rise and bow inward, wetting her hair impossibly further and clinging to auburn lashes, dripping off the bridge of her nose and the Cupid’s bow of her lips. They smile slowly. Blinking against the droplets to meet his hooded stare challengingly, hands poised on her waist. “Never,” she whispers in mimicked undertone, meeting his dramatics head on. “Refreshing, really.” Mischief dances like lights in her eyes, wishing she had better options for revenge. Instead she shifts the rock beneath his feet, just enough to try and get him to stumble forward to bring him into the rain cloud and douse him in his own medicine. “Why don’t you join me?”
It shouldn’t surprise her that he doesn’t concede defeat, now that she knows his own nudity is no bother. Even so, standing so close she is keenly aware of how she has to tilt her head to look up at him, and she’s torn between an unfair awareness of how out of her depth she is, and a constant striving stubbornness that insists if she just doesn’t back down…
The deluge makes her shoulders rise and bow inward, wetting her hair impossibly further and clinging to auburn lashes, dripping off the bridge of her nose and the Cupid’s bow of her lips. They smile slowly. Blinking against the droplets to meet his hooded stare challengingly, hands poised on her waist. “Never,” she whispers in mimicked undertone, meeting his dramatics head on. “Refreshing, really.” Mischief dances like lights in her eyes, wishing she had better options for revenge. Instead she shifts the rock beneath his feet, just enough to try and get him to stumble forward to bring him into the rain cloud and douse him in his own medicine. “Why don’t you join me?”
know that daybreak is not far away
