Evangeline Sablier is not broken, but please (handlewithcare) wrote in rooms, @ 2014-09-13 06:19:00 |
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Entry tags: | !assassin's creed, *log, evangeline sablier, jack corvus |
Who: Evie and Jack
What: Italy visits, and I bet there are 15th century cookies involved somewhere
Where: Bruce Wayne's Child Care Center - Assassin's Creed
When: Nowish
[As much time as Evie spent in Italy, it wasn't ever enough and leaving got harder every time. But she knew it was the best thing to do. She hated doing it, and part of her thought staying was the only option. But she knew it wasn't an option even for Daisy. She wasn't going to grow up here without her mother. She already didn't have a father and that was bad enough. Evie was determined to see things through until New York was safe enough. Even the occasional alien attack she could deal with. But it had been one too many things after another.
But the visits. She loved the visits. Yes, it was different, and there was no Internet and no telephones and nothing useful at all about weird laws and even weirder punishments. But at the villa, the rest of the world didn't exist. It was all beautiful decor, sitting in the sun, walking in fields, and forgetting the rest of the world(s). Just for a little while.
When she was gone she spent most of her time worrying about what Daisy was getting up to, if she was missing important milestones, if she was getting everything she needed. But being there refreshed her. The time with Daisy, seeing her thrive, watching her laugh. And unfortunately having to watch her cry if she left while she was still awake. But it all meant she was okay. Maybe confused, but loved and looked after. Evie was determined to make sure she was the one doing the loving and looking after before too long.
The problem with Italy is that Evie was a bit of a shit and would have probably been horribly tortured as some kind of heretic witch type goblin monster if she spent too much time around the locals with her lack of Italian - and her now very short hair and serious resistance to the dresses of the day. Not that they weren't perfectly lovely. But they were not entirely comfortable. Since the haircut she had thought about running around in boy clothes like god damn Rosalind, but she somehow thought that might have turned out worse.
So she spent most of her time running around the villa in a shift with a dress on standby just in case. It was hardly revealing, or that flattering, but she was pretty sure she'd be the indecent exposure queen around here if she was found out.
Which was exactly the situation now as she sat on a piece of furniture that would probably one day be in some kind of museum with signs like 'no flash photography' next to it and she had her bare feet tucked up under her and was leaning on the ornate and wooden and as uncomfortable as anything arm of the sofa with three pillows propping her up and keeping her from ripping the arm right off the thing. Daisy had long since decided a nap was preferable to any more fun or company. Evie and Jack included apparently. On the table in front of the aforementioned sofa was a plate of very lumpy cookies, which had 15th century written all over them. While Evie thought they needed a little less of the natural ingredients and about five cups of refined sugar added, they were there in any case.
She took another bite of the cookie she held in her hand - of course it crumbled because it wasn't what one would call a moist and chewy cookie. As she tried to brush the crumbs off she had such pity on her dry mouth in that moment. And once the offensive cookie was finally gone she laughed.] I can't tell if they're growing on me or if I will just literally eat my weight in any cookie possible.