( EVIE )

✗ ( EVIE )

The tight band around her chest kept increasing, constricting her like a vice; for one irrational moment, she wondered if it was some sort of malady—the sort George had often teased Father about when he had a fit of temper. Across the room, he shifted—his feet shuffling on the floor as if on the verge of moving closer—it pulled her out of her thoughts, ebbing back the pain for just a moment.

But only for a moment.

Then it redoubled, stronger than before.

A whimper escaped her as she hissed out her pain through clenched teeth—thankful that his mirthless laugh covered the betraying sound of her weakness, even as she was stunned by what he said. Her eyes darted up, glistening with tears, locking on his face—and suddenly, she understood the agony she felt. Not a malady at all, just the breaking of two hearts that had always beat as one.

He’s hurting too… just as much as I am.

The need to fix the ever broadening crevasse between them welled up inside her, clawing at her with just as much intensity and demanding as the pain of her aching heart. They couldn’t go on like this… it wasn’t right. It wasn’t supposed to be this way at all—their father would be horrified to see them at each other’s throats. She swallowed hard, nausea clenching her stomach as guilt filled her mouth with an acerbic, sour taste that was bitter on her tongue.

I did this? I brought all of this into being? How could I…

Her eyes fluttered closed as she grappled with her thoughts—the how didn’t matter—not now, at this moment. What mattered was finding a solution, not worrying about the cause. There had to be something they could do—something that she could do to make things right. Something that would mend fences, relieving the heavy burden of stress and strain that was rubbing them both raw.

We could go home… just for a few days. Surely a few days wouldn’t matter…

But it would. Templar reinforcements could arrive at any moment—in all likelihood Starrick had already sent for them to replenish their dwindling numbers. And the artifact—she was so close to finding it. No… Crawley would have to wait at least a little while.

“Patience has never been your strong point, brother,” she said, her voice so soft it was almost a whisper, “but I promise you this… if you can hold out until all this is finished… I won’t rest until we’ll find our way back to what we were.”

♖— When she looked up at him with that heartbroken look in her eyes -- god it nearly killed him. He almost wished for death, knowing he had been the one to cause her that much pain -- that he was the reason for those tears that were threatening to fall. Still, he tried his best to hide his torment because he was afraid how she would react if she saw how much grief was piling down on his soul. Though why did he? It was apparent now their separation was causing her pain too, but the truth was -- he was scared. 

♖— Evie Frye had been the one person he had trusted completely, who he had thought would forever be by his side. Just now? He felt like she had left him -- maybe not physically but he still felt her absence in his life like an open wound. He had needed her because no matter how complicated their relationship was -- he was mourning their father. He was doing what he could in London, trying to help people and bring it back from borderline destruction -- all while in the back of his mind thinking that it may of not of been his methods but maybe Ethan Frye would have been proud of his progress. 

♖— Just everytime he turned around she reminded him that it was a foolish thing to believe and even worse -- making it more and more evident that she too thought him the fool. He had held her while she cried the night their father died, threw the funeral -- and now? She left him alone. How could it be possible for her to want to come back to him? When she spoke, no matter her intent -- her words did not bring much comfort to his aching heart.

♖— “ Until this is finished....” He repeated weakly as he walked over and leaned against the desk, placing his hat behind him. Did she mean that nothing would change until they had defeated Starrick? Or until she had found that bloody relic? He wasn’t sure how much longer his heart could take before it just gave out.” So you want to just go back to chasing relics with Henry in the meantime?” It was impossible for him to hide the acid in his voice because the truth was -- he was feeling replaced.

▌ ▌ BEFORE I’D LOSE YOU. - @BOOKSANDBLADES

Jacob: “English is not my first language, okay?”

Evie: “You’re British.”

✗ ( EVIE )

“No, what I want more than anything in the world right now is to hop a train to Crawely and sleep for a bloody week, Jacob!” It came out far louder than she’d intended—almost a shout. “But I can’t! If we leave for even one day we risk losing all the ground we’ve gained. How many reinforcements might slip in while we were gone—do you want to have to start picking them off all over again? They’ll be better prepared this time around—forewarned is forearmed. It will be ten times harder because you’ve got them scared—they know you’re after them—when a hound is cornered its dangerous, remember?”

She realized a moment too late that quoting their father probably wasn’t the best idea; groaning, she rubbed her temples to try and relieve the ache in her head. “Henry has absolutely nothing to do with this, and the fact of the matter is he’s bloody useless in the field. I have no idea how he passed his blooding—he can’t do anything other than research and network.”

It was the first time she’d voiced her unease regarding the man; her feelings for Henry Green were a confusing, muddled mess—one she couldn’t even attempt begin to untangle until she had time take a step back from the situation and examine it properly. That wasn’t likely to happen any time soon—she simply kept shoving it aside, storing it away to be analyzed at a later date.

“I know you don’t think the artifact is important—but it is. I have a gut feeling that if Starrick gets it before we do… it will be bad, Jacob.” She shook her head, risking a glance in his direction—wanting to tell him it was his help she needed, but suspecting he’d respond with rolled eyes and a scoff. “Regardless, the ever growing list of problems is just one more reason we have to finish the mission before we can focus on anything  else. I believe you’re the one who reminded me about the ‘no distractions’ rule, aren’t you?”

Her brow wrinkled, eyes dropping to the floor—the surge of strong emotions and the accompanying argument leaving her more weary than she’d been before;  from the moment they’d set foot in the city, sleep had been elusive and hard to come by—she was nearing the point of outright exhaustion.   “I’m just… I’m so tired, Jacob. I haven’t had a good nights sleep since the night before our blooding. Maybe that’s why I’ve been so cross and ill tempered. I don’t mean to carp at you… really I don’t.”

♖— Her shout actually made him jump, but he quickly recovered. There had been a time he knew Evie better than he knew himself -- could that possibly still be the case? Maybe, maybe if he tried -- if he took a risk he could make some headway. When she continued he barely noticed her quoting their father because in the end -- she sounded like she thought he had made more than a mess, she thought he made a difference. That in itself was enough to give him enough hope for him to give a little.

♖— “ I could have told you that.” He teased in a soft, hoarse tone when she mentioned that Greenie was useless in the field.” Just looking at him I could tell he did not have the stomach for this life.” He murmured as he watched her closely, ignoring the comment about the artifact for the moment - he was only now realizing how tired she truly looked. He had slept a couple nights after he had drunk himself into a stupor -- but most nights he had been out in the streets until the break of dawn. He knew why his nights were restless and when she said that she hadn’t slept well since before they're blooding..... The night before had been their last night in their old room, the one they had slept in for 14 years but even more dramatic was the fact that their time in London had been the first time they had not shared a bed -- well he guessed since their mother's womb.

♖— “ That’s it.” He threw his hands in the air and pulled off his jacket, throwing it on the chair before he got onto her tiny bed -- it really was pathetic. Once he settled himself against the headboard, he beckoned her over.” We can continue this conversation after you get some sleep.” He said as he gave her a look that said he was not going to take no for an answer.” Get some sleep, and we will talk about your bloody relic.” He grumbled.

▌ ▌ BEFORE I’D LOSE YOU. - @BOOKSANDBLADES

Send “Hold still!” to find my muse injured.

Or “That hurts!” for mine to find yours.

If I am anything, it is violence.

Alejandra Pizarnik, from “[…] of the Silence,” Extracting the Stone of Madness: Poems 1962 - 1972 (via mythaelogy)