Evie
tell me all of the things
that make you feel at ease
Even when he teases and vexes her she can't help but laugh, emboldened instead of disheartened by what she knows is mischief and playfulness instead of torment. Not that she's any better with the way she cackles at the way his own hair slaps at his face when he turns over his shoulder. It's stolen from her a moment later as the wind buffets her breath back into her lungs, making her splutter and indeed lose her towel. Damp hair falls to her neck with a pleasant chill, and in a moment of boldness she yanks the tail of her robe belt to abandon it too. If Deimos is going to play tricks, she can use her own, even if they aren't magical in nature. Evie runs every single day, and she certainly isn't about to lose any ground for the sake of propriety, so she's not far behind Deimos when his feet hit the water. A twist of power has it splashing up from stillness into a modest hose of a spray that will do little to slow him admittedly but is good for a little petty revenge.
