walkingheroin | ~entranceway ic inbox~

Plenty, I assure you. And if he thinks I'm finished with him, he's quite mistaken.

Perhaps I'm not communicating my tone clearly.

[Invoking God's name won't do anything, not for this particular person, which is why it is all the more imperative that he not mistake how utterly furious she is. Which is why Evelyn switches the setting on her communicator.

Which is why she carefully enunciates every word that comes out of her mouth next:]

What. The fuck. Were you thinking?

[Oh, here we go. Sigh.]

The man is evil, Evie. I punish evil.

So take it outside. So be who you are and not who everyone expects you to be.

[Evelyn snaps, under no illusions about a great deal of the unfairness that Christianity dealt to the former Favorite Son.]

Whatever wickedness your victim committed you can't just mete out justice in front of an unwilling audience. You can't play judge, jury, and executioner in front of children. I don't care if he said the foulest thing imaginable, you wait until you're well clear of party-goers before turning his insides out.

That is who I am!

[He snaps right back, unable to hold it back. He's fully capable of taking the blame for things that he's actually done, even if he might make excuses at times as to why. It's everything else he hates, being blamed for other's actions.]

And here I thought children weren't allowed in places where there was an self-serve open bar. [The words are dry. He doesn't particularly care what any children saw, really. They're in Wonderland. They've likely seen, or experienced, worse.] He's a murderder, worse even, and I will punish him when and where I see fit.

[Strawman. Evelyn cannot take offence to that, no, because the guests don't matter in an argument until their collective well-being is compromised.

Worse strikes a nerve and it takes all of her considerable will to keep her voice even.]

I know what worse is like!

[No one would think it, knowing her. So many have the luxury of being more recent transplants that they've never known about what she can't forget, because no one was punishing the wicked when they were cutting her open here and at home, when they were feeding off of others like a long, leisurely buffet.]

But this world isn't your torture rack.

And I'd do the bloody same to anyone who inflicted that kind of horror on you, as well.

[He lifts a bottle from outside the frame to his lips. It's scotch. He starts to chug it as she talks.

Finally, when she's done, he lowers it.]

Are you quite sure? It certainly feels a whole lot like Hell. It even sent me there twice already as part of its little games.

Edited 2017-01-10 03:22 (UTC)

[For a very long moment all she has the capacity to do is blink at him, startled into silence by something she hardly expected to hear come out of his mouth at all, let alone with sincerity. Evelyn has never taken the power of others for granted and yes, sometimes she does forget.

Beneath the personable exterior and a mind that knows her very well, it is what he does, but here he doesn't have to. Perhaps a fear of indolence is what causes him to act.]

I understand...that you are frustrated. [A brief instant, and she almost feels as though she is talking to herself. Herself, alone, and upset, and vilified.

In control, she is quiet.]

And I understand that your position is - unlike so many of us - not a helpless one. This is not Hell. For some- for me, this is all there is.

I'm afraid frustrated doesn't even begin to cover it.

[His eyes harden further as he protests her words.]

That's the problem, Evelyn. I'm quite helpless. I can't bloody leave!

Edited 2017-01-19 04:35 (UTC)

Quite helpless is not helpless.

[She insists firmly, because he is so utterly blinded by seemingly-even footing that he cannot comprehend how much he still has by comparison.]

I saw you throw a man across the ballroom like he was a child's plaything. You still possess an unbelievable amount of influence and yet what frustrates you the most is that there are boundaries here, well, you aren't the only one angry about that. I've been here for years and I am never going home!

[Said with such desperate finality, such self-assured conviction that it challenges any claims to the contrary.]

You still have something! Do not play the part of the neglected, not here, not with me.

Isn't it? This place has stolen my memories and my abilities for days at a time, made me into an entirely different person, changed my age and my identity, and for what? I am not a toy to be played with, nor do I enjoy being deceived at my very core.

[His eyes are filled with simmering anger, still bubbling up from the events at the party, now stoked again.]

Oh, you've been stuck here for years? [Sarcasm fills his voice.] Try being trapped in Hell for a few millennia and then come back and complain to me. I got out for a few years, and now I'm practically right back where I started.

[He might feel slightly terrible about this later, but he's...angry.]

So yes, I'm angry. I have every right to be, just as you do. You are not my keeper, Evelyn. Do not presume to think you can tell me what to do.

[Had Evelyn known this would turn into a game of one-upmanship with the Prince of Darkness, she wouldn't have called. Right back where he started, well, if Hell is a manor with armoires that give you whatever you want, put her name on the waiting list. Evelyn is already fairly certain she knows where she's headed, having started the second apocalypse nine years ago.

Where did they send Pandora, after she opened the box?]

If you don't want to be treated like a child, then stop acting like one.

I am not, nor have I ever been, a child.

[The sorest spot ever. He dislikes kids so many.]

Perhaps you'll meet my Father one day. Keep talking like that and I'm sure you'll get along swimmingly.

[And then he hangs up, because that's obviously the mature thing to do here.

Oh wait...]

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