"You're still here. You're in the Arena. And I'm here with you, to protect you." She cradles Eponine's head as if it's that of an infant, then gives Sigma a tight nod. "This will pinch a bit, but it's nothing you can't survive."
She wants to promise Eponine that she will make her win. That if Eva has to, she will personally kill the rest of the competition to get this sad girl out. But as consummate a liar Eva is, she can't dredge up the capability to say these things to a sick girl who barely even believes in the person holding her right now. So she starts, with one hand, to braid Eponine's hair. It's lank and greasy from sweat, from the fact that they must not have had much time to get Eponine camera-ready before shoving her out here.
How strange, that she so loves a girl so helpless and weak, pleading for her own death. Eva isn't sure when it was that Eponine captured her heart, isn't sure when Eponine caught the right light and suddenly was Marco. No, not Marco. A certain note Eponine's voice hits, a singular expression, chains of words that echo in Eva's head.
I will not play their Games!I will not!I will not!
A wick inside Eponine that burns brightly despite the grime, despite the tears, despite Eponine's insistence that it isn't there. It that which Eva so loves, and she has come to care deeply for the wax around it.
"I'll need you to grit your teeth and not scream. You can do that for me." It's not a question - she doesn't want Eponine to think for even a second that Eva doubts her, nor does she want to add another worry to Sigma's load. He looks near collapse. She would give him a pat on the shoulder, but that would mean letting Eponine go for the moment.
no subject
She wants to promise Eponine that she will make her win. That if Eva has to, she will personally kill the rest of the competition to get this sad girl out. But as consummate a liar Eva is, she can't dredge up the capability to say these things to a sick girl who barely even believes in the person holding her right now. So she starts, with one hand, to braid Eponine's hair. It's lank and greasy from sweat, from the fact that they must not have had much time to get Eponine camera-ready before shoving her out here.
How strange, that she so loves a girl so helpless and weak, pleading for her own death. Eva isn't sure when it was that Eponine captured her heart, isn't sure when Eponine caught the right light and suddenly was Marco. No, not Marco. A certain note Eponine's voice hits, a singular expression, chains of words that echo in Eva's head.
I will not play their Games! I will not! I will not!
A wick inside Eponine that burns brightly despite the grime, despite the tears, despite Eponine's insistence that it isn't there. It that which Eva so loves, and she has come to care deeply for the wax around it.
"I'll need you to grit your teeth and not scream. You can do that for me." It's not a question - she doesn't want Eponine to think for even a second that Eva doubts her, nor does she want to add another worry to Sigma's load. He looks near collapse. She would give him a pat on the shoulder, but that would mean letting Eponine go for the moment.