EVIE
The smell of pine makes her hum with a simplistic pleasure, closing her eyes to soak in the scent even as her hands continue along in their efforts through touch alone. They crinkle at the corners in amusement as crowns of bubbles are laden upon her head in gratuitous scoops, silver-laced shoulders shaking with stifled laughter. None of it moves too far from where it’s placed, so she peeks her eyes open eventually and - having run out of skin to clean until she turns - methodically begins to clean her own, brisker now. The care and attention reserved for him is already being returned, after all, if not by her own hand.
“Yes, exactly. It’s good to make room for gratitude and joy in the wake of loss.” They’d done it many times in the Grounds when the sun returned at last and the dead had been accounted for. Depending on the scale of the wedding, perhaps the event itself could serve not only as a celebration of a forged relationship, but of life itself. “Safrin is Vi’s herald after all, and you are her champion. We shouldn’t be remiss in celebrating life.” It’s a tease of a thing, and the corner of her little smile is visible as she glances over her shoulder at him.
It fades at his question, uncertain how to answer in a way that is fair and unbiased. “Yes, because she ran. I believe specifically because she did so after one injury; the name they call her seems to be based on it.” But she had lived, and Evie would rather Cordelia live named as a coward than not live at all. Had she or Talyson died because of it, or if the Banshee had made it further into the Citadel, perhaps things would be different. Seeing as neither thing had come to pass, Evie’s grudge was weak if it were to be called a grudge at all.
“Yes, exactly. It’s good to make room for gratitude and joy in the wake of loss.” They’d done it many times in the Grounds when the sun returned at last and the dead had been accounted for. Depending on the scale of the wedding, perhaps the event itself could serve not only as a celebration of a forged relationship, but of life itself. “Safrin is Vi’s herald after all, and you are her champion. We shouldn’t be remiss in celebrating life.” It’s a tease of a thing, and the corner of her little smile is visible as she glances over her shoulder at him.
It fades at his question, uncertain how to answer in a way that is fair and unbiased. “Yes, because she ran. I believe specifically because she did so after one injury; the name they call her seems to be based on it.” But she had lived, and Evie would rather Cordelia live named as a coward than not live at all. Had she or Talyson died because of it, or if the Banshee had made it further into the Citadel, perhaps things would be different. Seeing as neither thing had come to pass, Evie’s grudge was weak if it were to be called a grudge at all.
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
