Evie
“I can’t recall any times you have, so I’ll sayyy…never,” she declares brightly, like it’s wonderful news. Maybe the faux optimism will buoy her through the beating her arm is about to take. Though she submits her body willingly to the rigor of training - a habit instilled through years of being reminded every year of her own mortality and helplessness - she would never chase its high the way others seem to. Never relishing in the burn of muscle as proof of dedication. No, Evie’s life had shown her that even the smallest pains were not worth celebrating, only alleviating.
But it is a pain her magic can fix in the end, and so it is that she strives to learn, to grow, to become stronger with each moment so that others did not have to. Being able to enjoy it however possible was merely a bonus - and if she knew how closely her thoughts dovetailed with Deimos’, she’d laugh all the more for it.
The Sword shouldn’t be able to move so swiftly, but Evie has been taken by surprise by him one too many times to not anticipate it now. Far too inexperienced for grand gestures such as a jump, the Evergreen does a short lunge back to prevent her legs from being hit. And though her nature is more defensive already, Deimos has trained the art of offense well enough into her that she brings her shield down towards the spear, hoping to hit it and plunge its tip into the sand.
But it is a pain her magic can fix in the end, and so it is that she strives to learn, to grow, to become stronger with each moment so that others did not have to. Being able to enjoy it however possible was merely a bonus - and if she knew how closely her thoughts dovetailed with Deimos’, she’d laugh all the more for it.
The Sword shouldn’t be able to move so swiftly, but Evie has been taken by surprise by him one too many times to not anticipate it now. Far too inexperienced for grand gestures such as a jump, the Evergreen does a short lunge back to prevent her legs from being hit. And though her nature is more defensive already, Deimos has trained the art of offense well enough into her that she brings her shield down towards the spear, hoping to hit it and plunge its tip into the sand.
a golden cage, for all its worth and beauty
is still just a cage
is still just a cage
