Evie
Did you ever love her? Do you know?
Normally, his calm would level her back down to earth, an anchoring presence that reminded her of better, more logical ways to contend with difficult matters. But there is no weight that could anchor her down, not now. “Reign!” she barks furiously, taking the word between her teeth like a starving dog with a scrap of meat. “She was the head of the magic school, not even a Warden! How pitiful his existence must have been as a magic-less whelp living out on the ice, compared to what we suffered locked in a barrier with that woman!” Freckles nearly extinguish themselves from view beneath the force of her flush. Even Deimos could not fully empathize with a life lived in close proximity to the Launcelyn cult, long before the Outlanders began pouring in. To be compared to Zariah was an insult far, far graver than anything else Talyson could have dreamed of leveling against her.
All the blood drains from her face in the next moment. Legs that had nearly pushed her from her chair to partake in stalking, pacing motions go week at the knees, leaving Evie slumped in her chair like an abandoned marionette.
Sleeping together?
Gods, they hadn’t even -
And he assumed?
Each word is so much worse than the last, and vaguely somewhere far away in the back of her head her own voice comments on how fast her heart is beating and yet how it does nothing to stop the wave of cold through her limbs. Deimos is apologizing, and even in her shell-shocked rage Evie can’t imagine what he possibly has to be sorry for.
“I appreciate you trying. If I’d known it was more than a boyish grudge I would have…” done more? Approached him sooner? The words feel wooden in her mouth. Evie is no saint, and certainly not puritanical. Being accused of seduction at large is not the problem, it’s the context in which it had been placed. The rage could restless beneath the ice, demanding attention. Slowly she warms through once more, thawing, melting, and steaming as she emerges from the icy shock. Teeth grit and grind until her jaw twitches and feathers with fury. “Clearly he is due a visit from me then,” she growls, incapable of any more graceful expression of her roiling, tumultuous emotions.
All the blood drains from her face in the next moment. Legs that had nearly pushed her from her chair to partake in stalking, pacing motions go week at the knees, leaving Evie slumped in her chair like an abandoned marionette.
Sleeping together?
Gods, they hadn’t even -
And he assumed?
Each word is so much worse than the last, and vaguely somewhere far away in the back of her head her own voice comments on how fast her heart is beating and yet how it does nothing to stop the wave of cold through her limbs. Deimos is apologizing, and even in her shell-shocked rage Evie can’t imagine what he possibly has to be sorry for.
“I appreciate you trying. If I’d known it was more than a boyish grudge I would have…” done more? Approached him sooner? The words feel wooden in her mouth. Evie is no saint, and certainly not puritanical. Being accused of seduction at large is not the problem, it’s the context in which it had been placed. The rage could restless beneath the ice, demanding attention. Slowly she warms through once more, thawing, melting, and steaming as she emerges from the icy shock. Teeth grit and grind until her jaw twitches and feathers with fury. “Clearly he is due a visit from me then,” she growls, incapable of any more graceful expression of her roiling, tumultuous emotions.
Or did you just never want to be alone?
