Ira + Evie; help
Who: Ira and Evie
When: evening of the 22nd
Where: Citadel
Rating & Warnings: PG because Ira's a dbag.
The snow on the Citadel made it look even more of a ruin; neglected, crumbling, the snow blowing off the slopes of the tower in white mists. Ira squinted up at it, his lashes already crusted with frost as he crossed the square. He held his hands beneath his arms, his shoulders hunched. If Mari hadn't run her mouth, he thought sourly, he might've been able to afford decent winter clothes. He'd planned to blackmail Cerys down to her last copper; now, he had nothing to threaten. He still knew who she was and what she hid, but telling anyone would be counter-productive. Silence would have his throat slit. Instead he'd have to rely on the usual.... petty pickpocketing, which was much more difficult in the winter months. There were fewer people in the streets, and their purses were under more layers.
Ah, well. Maybe he could get information from Isley. She'd be a willing and easy informant without ever knowing the role she was playing, he could tell that much. So sweet, so trusting. He held in a roll of his eyes and took the steps up to the Citadel's doors, stomping his feet when he reached them to dislodge some of the snow clinging to his boots. The air inside was much warmer, and his cheeks and nose stung as he rubbed his hands together and looked for his target.
Evie wasn't sure of the exact time that Ira would come by, so she made extra sure that she finished her chores early that day. She lingered by the entrance of the Citadel the closer it got to sunset. Rationally, she knew that anyone could point Ira to find her, if by some chance she had been called away, but... she had said she would be there, so she would be there. It also wouldn't be a good impression for someone who decided to show interest in the Citadel.
Belatedly, she realized her stupidity. She should have asked him for some identifying feature, and now it was too late. The initiate kept her eyes peeled for someone she didn't recognize. When she saw Ira walk in, she hesitantly approached him. "Um, are you... Ira Paranov?" Her voice was soft and stumbled over his name, her pronunciation most likely off.
He remembered the red hair. Ira had been in the Citadel a handful of times before, but always briefly, always discretely. Every major organization had their secrets; it was his job to find them out. Distressingly, he'd never come across any of the Citadel's... not until Cerys, not until Moirine Burrell. He smiled at Eveline and gave a flourishing bow.
"At your service, girlie." He straightened up and looked her over, forcing his smile to narrow shyly. "Ach! Didn't think I was signing up for a tour with such a pretty guide! Give you white hair, you'd be more pretty'n the Occia herself." She was pretty, but in a plain sort of way. Farmers might call her beautiful, but not Lords. Too horsefaced. "Hm, let's try again with the name. Paranov. Roll the r a little, suck your lip on the v. Ira be right. And you... Eveline... Islie?" The feeling was starting to come back to his toes and his fingertips; they stung, but by the pleasant smile on his face it was hard to tell Ira felt any discomfort at all.
She ducked her head at the compliments, her cheeks warming slightly. "No... Thank you, but I'm nowhere near as pretty as the Occia." Past or future ones. She didn't have what it took. Nodding, she repeated his last name, rolling the r but without sucking her lip much, "Paranov." And paused before trying again, "Paranov." Shyly, she corrected him on her name, "I-it's Isley." Eyes-lee.
Evie waved in the direction of the nave. That was the first place she thought to show anyone. "We... we can go in where it's warmer. Have... have you ever been to the Citadel before?"
"Isley," he repeated smoothly. Ira bobbed his head with a smirk. "Got it." He put a hand in his hair and ruffled it to shake some of the snow out, wincing when some of it slid down the back of his neck.
"I has," Ira admitted, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling thoughtfully, "Once or twice. Didn't really get it." He looked back to Evie with an apologetic smile. "I gots to get things explained to me. Ira be a simple boy, and foreign too. Hm." He quirked his lips to one side and examined her. "Simple, and I ain't never seen the Occia, but I think you ain't giving yourself enough credit there, girlie. You'd make God blush for sure." After a moment's bashful staring, he clasped his hands behind his back and nodded at her. "Lead away."
Evie started walking in the direction of the nave, nodding as she passed by an Initiate lighting sconces along the wall. "I'll try to explain what I can to you..." She did her best to sound confident but sounded odd instead, as if she wasn't quite certain of herself. She wanted to be able to tell Ira the right things... the correct things about the Citadel, but even she knew it'd be difficult with the Citadel in the shape it was in and with no Occia.
"The Occia... the former Occia is very beautiful," she said quietly. Her hands shook slightly, and she pressed them against her sides. Thinking about Moirine was a very sensitive issue for Evie; she couldn't think about her without remembering her frightening experience with Allen. Everything he had said had been horrible, and she could not find it in herself to take them all as lies. "The next one will be, too. Cita's bride is always beautiful."
When they reached the nave, she told Ira, "We have a morning and evening mass, but anyone can come here between then to pray."
He kept the snicker he wanted to give contained; he'd have to settle for imagining what Eveline's face would do if he told her he knew exactly where her former Occia hid, and why. Cerys had been the find of a lifetime. If only he'd been the one to break the news to Silence instead of Mari...
He listened obediently as she explained, eyes drifting to the altar, the pews. "Mass? That's when you read them stories, yeah?" Speaking about the Occia unsettled her. Ira filed that away for later.
"Yes, the stories teach you the lessons of the Epistles, what you should learn, what you should do... They're like a guide." At least, that was how she had come to view the Epistles. It was also a message she had been told often-- that she would find her truth in the Epistles.
"Um, there's singing and songs, too." What else should she say? She knew more than anyone else that too much information could be worse than too little. The information would overload her brain and then she wouldn't remember anything later. "What... what else did you want to see today?"
"Hm." Ira scratched at the back of his neck, mouth quirked to the side as he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. Tall, wasn't it? And all those holes... "Can't say I know, really. Don't know what there is to see." He smiled apologetically. "Maybe tell me about you? When you come here, what you think's so special about Cita." His smile widened, but not unkindly. "Convince a poor sinner." That's what they all wanted, wasn't it? The rush of feeling like they'd successfully made someone think exactly the same way as them.
"You're not a sinner," she protested, soft but earnest. He had apologized, and she had took it for sincerity.
"Um..." Her story wasn't a very exciting one. "I was... I was eleven. A priest helped me when someone had shoved me and left me to be run over." She looked down at her hands, which were clenching nervously at her robe. "I wanted to thank him, so I came here... and the things they do here... the messages they try to share... I thought they were good. Beautiful." She cleared her throat, feeling a little embarrassed. Talking about herself like that wasn't something she did often. "Be good, be kind, be giving. Cita just wants the best for His children."
"You think so?" Ira asked softly, his smile already falling away into feigned remorse. He lowered his eyes and, after a moment of silence, cleared his throat and shook his head. "I is, though. A sinner. Gots to do what I has to to get by. I mean--" He looked up, eyes round and earnest. "Promise you won't tell nobody?" He didn't wait for an answer. "I work for... a real bad man. Bought me when I was little, dragged me 'round Europe with him. I gotta give him secrets or I pay for it."
Ira swept back his thick curls to reveal a splotchy bruise on his temple, purple and green. "Gets real mad when I don't." He'd gotten the bruise two nights earlier, after a crack he'd made at another Whisper had pushed the man too far. Ira had laughed it off at the time, dazed, but inside he'd been furious. He'd get him back for it. "Last time I took too long giving him something good..." He held up his hand to wag his wooden finger back and forth. "It'd be nice to do what you do," he sighed, "But I don't got a choice. Only way I could leave is if I made him real happy, but I ain't clever enough to find out anything what's worth hearing."
Evie's eyes widened in fear and sympathy for Ira. She couldn't imagine what that kind of life was like. "I'm so sorry." Evie wished she could figure out a way to free him. Was there even anything she could do? "That sounds horrible."
Her hand reached up to touch his bruise but retracted her hand quickly before it was close to touching him. "I'm sorry. Would you like a healer to look at it?" She was at a loss. What a horrible life Ira led. Evie had never thought her life had been bad, but now she knew she had been supremely lucky.
"I... Of course I'll never tell anyone." Who could she tell? Who would she tell? If she started saying any one secret, she knew she'd feel compelled to spill everything she knew. The initiate didn't want that to happen. "That doesn't make you a sinner, if you're forced," she said. "It's not a sin to want to live." She looked at the ground. "I-I wish I knew how to help you."
He gave a loose shrug, frowning down at his feet. "I guess... if you ever hears something, I mean-... I know it ain't moral but... it'd help me." He glanced up, silently beside himself at how easy this was turning out to be. Eveline's face was full of sympathy. "Just think about it. I'd be real grateful."
At her other question, he shook his head. "It ain't serious. Just a bruise." He forced a halfhearted smile. "It'll heal. Too bad this won't grow back, huh?" he joked, wiggling his wooden finger again.
Her lips drew down into a frown. "I... I don't know if I could tell you anything. I... don't really hear anything anyone would want." It was a lie but mostly true. Evie only knew one big secret, and it was the secret of a ghost. Her hands clutched at her robe, tense. "I'm not... I'm not helpful that way."
Evie's eyes widened when he made fun of his lost finger. Was it really all right to talk about it like that? She attempted a weak smile. "If... you're sure." Her eyes lingered on Ira's prosthetic a little too long, and she shifted uncomfortably. "If only a miracle like that could happen." The... fake... the Other had the power to do that. Evie couldn't hide her grimace from remembering.
"Aw, it ain't bad. Least it wasn't a real useful finger, yeah?" Really, Cretin had given him a gift by cutting it off. He'd used it more times for sympathy than he could count. Worked like a charm. Ira leaned against a pillar and smiled. It wasn't hard to trust that Eveline was rarely told anything useful, but a girl like this... She had to be used by more people than just him. God-fearing or not, even Civitates were selfish. Sooner or later, someone would play her as their pawn.
"Mm, well... Anything would help. In the meantime..." He trailed off sheepishly, looking out over at the altar. "You got one of them holy books I could borrow? Thought I could try reading it."
"I-I guess... I suppose." What else could she do but agree? Disagreeing when he was the one without a finger wouldn't be right.
"I'll... I'll try?" Evie would try, though she wouldn't know what to do. She really didn't think she would come across any information that would be useful to him, and she would keep Allen's secret until a Cancellarius forced it out of her. At his last question, she nodded. "Yes! I'll go fetch it right now." Would it be okay if she led him to her room? It couldn't hurt. "You can wait or follow me," she told him tentatively.
"Alright," Ira said smoothly. "I'd like to see more of this place anyhow. It look real different where you sleep?" Inviting him to her room? Wasn't that sweet... and wildly inappropriate. What would the other Civitates think of that? He rolled his bottom lip between his teeth to smother his smile and gestured for her to lead the way.
Evie led Ira down hallways that were still mostly in tact, ones that weren't as misshapen and touched from what happened a couple months ago. It was one of her only blessings that she could pretend her room was mostly normal.
"I'm still working on... how I interpret the Epistles," she admitted when they reached her room. It was very bare, simple, and clean room with her bed well made and her desk clear except for a copy of the Epistles. She picked the book up and offered it to Ira. "But the priests say I'm doing fine." How much those words were platitudes Evie didn't know, but she chose to believe the best of them.
"I'm sure you're doin' great," Ira said bashfully, accepting the book with both hands. He turned it over, mouth quirked to one side, and then glanced back up with a shrug. "I mean, it's your heart what matters in things like this, yeah? And you got a real big one. I was real rude and you still forgave me. So..." He grinned. "I think you understand 'em just fine."
and then ginga punched herself in the face for making ira such a douchhheee i'm sorry evie
someday, ira will be rightfully punched in the face???
Her smile was just as bashful as Ira wasn't. "Thank you. I try to be understanding, but I don't know if I'm always... It's not like everyone can be perfect." He had been quick to apologize. Why wouldn't she have forgiven him?
"The... the evening service is starting soon. Would you like to stay or see it another time?"
and then cita will come to earth and bless everyone and nothing will hurt only he won't be crazy this time but still maybe cillian murphy cause why the fuck not
This was ridiculous. Ira fixed his smile on Evie, black eyes narrowed and satisfied. "I'll stay, if you sit with me. Gotta have a translator for all them big words. That alright?"
"Yes, of course. I'll be happy to." And she was. Evie was glad Ira was willing to stay and listen. She had thought too many people would avoid the Citadel for the state it was in... for the fake that had changed so many things, for the Occia--the former Occia leaving, for how the Others had intruded where they weren't wanted, but maybe Ira was a step in the right direction.
When: evening of the 22nd
Where: Citadel
Rating & Warnings: PG because Ira's a dbag.
The snow on the Citadel made it look even more of a ruin; neglected, crumbling, the snow blowing off the slopes of the tower in white mists. Ira squinted up at it, his lashes already crusted with frost as he crossed the square. He held his hands beneath his arms, his shoulders hunched. If Mari hadn't run her mouth, he thought sourly, he might've been able to afford decent winter clothes. He'd planned to blackmail Cerys down to her last copper; now, he had nothing to threaten. He still knew who she was and what she hid, but telling anyone would be counter-productive. Silence would have his throat slit. Instead he'd have to rely on the usual.... petty pickpocketing, which was much more difficult in the winter months. There were fewer people in the streets, and their purses were under more layers.
Ah, well. Maybe he could get information from Isley. She'd be a willing and easy informant without ever knowing the role she was playing, he could tell that much. So sweet, so trusting. He held in a roll of his eyes and took the steps up to the Citadel's doors, stomping his feet when he reached them to dislodge some of the snow clinging to his boots. The air inside was much warmer, and his cheeks and nose stung as he rubbed his hands together and looked for his target.
Evie wasn't sure of the exact time that Ira would come by, so she made extra sure that she finished her chores early that day. She lingered by the entrance of the Citadel the closer it got to sunset. Rationally, she knew that anyone could point Ira to find her, if by some chance she had been called away, but... she had said she would be there, so she would be there. It also wouldn't be a good impression for someone who decided to show interest in the Citadel.
Belatedly, she realized her stupidity. She should have asked him for some identifying feature, and now it was too late. The initiate kept her eyes peeled for someone she didn't recognize. When she saw Ira walk in, she hesitantly approached him. "Um, are you... Ira Paranov?" Her voice was soft and stumbled over his name, her pronunciation most likely off.
He remembered the red hair. Ira had been in the Citadel a handful of times before, but always briefly, always discretely. Every major organization had their secrets; it was his job to find them out. Distressingly, he'd never come across any of the Citadel's... not until Cerys, not until Moirine Burrell. He smiled at Eveline and gave a flourishing bow.
"At your service, girlie." He straightened up and looked her over, forcing his smile to narrow shyly. "Ach! Didn't think I was signing up for a tour with such a pretty guide! Give you white hair, you'd be more pretty'n the Occia herself." She was pretty, but in a plain sort of way. Farmers might call her beautiful, but not Lords. Too horsefaced. "Hm, let's try again with the name. Paranov. Roll the r a little, suck your lip on the v. Ira be right. And you... Eveline... Islie?" The feeling was starting to come back to his toes and his fingertips; they stung, but by the pleasant smile on his face it was hard to tell Ira felt any discomfort at all.
She ducked her head at the compliments, her cheeks warming slightly. "No... Thank you, but I'm nowhere near as pretty as the Occia." Past or future ones. She didn't have what it took. Nodding, she repeated his last name, rolling the r but without sucking her lip much, "Paranov." And paused before trying again, "Paranov." Shyly, she corrected him on her name, "I-it's Isley." Eyes-lee.
Evie waved in the direction of the nave. That was the first place she thought to show anyone. "We... we can go in where it's warmer. Have... have you ever been to the Citadel before?"
"Isley," he repeated smoothly. Ira bobbed his head with a smirk. "Got it." He put a hand in his hair and ruffled it to shake some of the snow out, wincing when some of it slid down the back of his neck.
"I has," Ira admitted, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling thoughtfully, "Once or twice. Didn't really get it." He looked back to Evie with an apologetic smile. "I gots to get things explained to me. Ira be a simple boy, and foreign too. Hm." He quirked his lips to one side and examined her. "Simple, and I ain't never seen the Occia, but I think you ain't giving yourself enough credit there, girlie. You'd make God blush for sure." After a moment's bashful staring, he clasped his hands behind his back and nodded at her. "Lead away."
Evie started walking in the direction of the nave, nodding as she passed by an Initiate lighting sconces along the wall. "I'll try to explain what I can to you..." She did her best to sound confident but sounded odd instead, as if she wasn't quite certain of herself. She wanted to be able to tell Ira the right things... the correct things about the Citadel, but even she knew it'd be difficult with the Citadel in the shape it was in and with no Occia.
"The Occia... the former Occia is very beautiful," she said quietly. Her hands shook slightly, and she pressed them against her sides. Thinking about Moirine was a very sensitive issue for Evie; she couldn't think about her without remembering her frightening experience with Allen. Everything he had said had been horrible, and she could not find it in herself to take them all as lies. "The next one will be, too. Cita's bride is always beautiful."
When they reached the nave, she told Ira, "We have a morning and evening mass, but anyone can come here between then to pray."
He kept the snicker he wanted to give contained; he'd have to settle for imagining what Eveline's face would do if he told her he knew exactly where her former Occia hid, and why. Cerys had been the find of a lifetime. If only he'd been the one to break the news to Silence instead of Mari...
He listened obediently as she explained, eyes drifting to the altar, the pews. "Mass? That's when you read them stories, yeah?" Speaking about the Occia unsettled her. Ira filed that away for later.
"Yes, the stories teach you the lessons of the Epistles, what you should learn, what you should do... They're like a guide." At least, that was how she had come to view the Epistles. It was also a message she had been told often-- that she would find her truth in the Epistles.
"Um, there's singing and songs, too." What else should she say? She knew more than anyone else that too much information could be worse than too little. The information would overload her brain and then she wouldn't remember anything later. "What... what else did you want to see today?"
"Hm." Ira scratched at the back of his neck, mouth quirked to the side as he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. Tall, wasn't it? And all those holes... "Can't say I know, really. Don't know what there is to see." He smiled apologetically. "Maybe tell me about you? When you come here, what you think's so special about Cita." His smile widened, but not unkindly. "Convince a poor sinner." That's what they all wanted, wasn't it? The rush of feeling like they'd successfully made someone think exactly the same way as them.
"You're not a sinner," she protested, soft but earnest. He had apologized, and she had took it for sincerity.
"Um..." Her story wasn't a very exciting one. "I was... I was eleven. A priest helped me when someone had shoved me and left me to be run over." She looked down at her hands, which were clenching nervously at her robe. "I wanted to thank him, so I came here... and the things they do here... the messages they try to share... I thought they were good. Beautiful." She cleared her throat, feeling a little embarrassed. Talking about herself like that wasn't something she did often. "Be good, be kind, be giving. Cita just wants the best for His children."
"You think so?" Ira asked softly, his smile already falling away into feigned remorse. He lowered his eyes and, after a moment of silence, cleared his throat and shook his head. "I is, though. A sinner. Gots to do what I has to to get by. I mean--" He looked up, eyes round and earnest. "Promise you won't tell nobody?" He didn't wait for an answer. "I work for... a real bad man. Bought me when I was little, dragged me 'round Europe with him. I gotta give him secrets or I pay for it."
Ira swept back his thick curls to reveal a splotchy bruise on his temple, purple and green. "Gets real mad when I don't." He'd gotten the bruise two nights earlier, after a crack he'd made at another Whisper had pushed the man too far. Ira had laughed it off at the time, dazed, but inside he'd been furious. He'd get him back for it. "Last time I took too long giving him something good..." He held up his hand to wag his wooden finger back and forth. "It'd be nice to do what you do," he sighed, "But I don't got a choice. Only way I could leave is if I made him real happy, but I ain't clever enough to find out anything what's worth hearing."
Evie's eyes widened in fear and sympathy for Ira. She couldn't imagine what that kind of life was like. "I'm so sorry." Evie wished she could figure out a way to free him. Was there even anything she could do? "That sounds horrible."
Her hand reached up to touch his bruise but retracted her hand quickly before it was close to touching him. "I'm sorry. Would you like a healer to look at it?" She was at a loss. What a horrible life Ira led. Evie had never thought her life had been bad, but now she knew she had been supremely lucky.
"I... Of course I'll never tell anyone." Who could she tell? Who would she tell? If she started saying any one secret, she knew she'd feel compelled to spill everything she knew. The initiate didn't want that to happen. "That doesn't make you a sinner, if you're forced," she said. "It's not a sin to want to live." She looked at the ground. "I-I wish I knew how to help you."
He gave a loose shrug, frowning down at his feet. "I guess... if you ever hears something, I mean-... I know it ain't moral but... it'd help me." He glanced up, silently beside himself at how easy this was turning out to be. Eveline's face was full of sympathy. "Just think about it. I'd be real grateful."
At her other question, he shook his head. "It ain't serious. Just a bruise." He forced a halfhearted smile. "It'll heal. Too bad this won't grow back, huh?" he joked, wiggling his wooden finger again.
Her lips drew down into a frown. "I... I don't know if I could tell you anything. I... don't really hear anything anyone would want." It was a lie but mostly true. Evie only knew one big secret, and it was the secret of a ghost. Her hands clutched at her robe, tense. "I'm not... I'm not helpful that way."
Evie's eyes widened when he made fun of his lost finger. Was it really all right to talk about it like that? She attempted a weak smile. "If... you're sure." Her eyes lingered on Ira's prosthetic a little too long, and she shifted uncomfortably. "If only a miracle like that could happen." The... fake... the Other had the power to do that. Evie couldn't hide her grimace from remembering.
"Aw, it ain't bad. Least it wasn't a real useful finger, yeah?" Really, Cretin had given him a gift by cutting it off. He'd used it more times for sympathy than he could count. Worked like a charm. Ira leaned against a pillar and smiled. It wasn't hard to trust that Eveline was rarely told anything useful, but a girl like this... She had to be used by more people than just him. God-fearing or not, even Civitates were selfish. Sooner or later, someone would play her as their pawn.
"Mm, well... Anything would help. In the meantime..." He trailed off sheepishly, looking out over at the altar. "You got one of them holy books I could borrow? Thought I could try reading it."
"I-I guess... I suppose." What else could she do but agree? Disagreeing when he was the one without a finger wouldn't be right.
"I'll... I'll try?" Evie would try, though she wouldn't know what to do. She really didn't think she would come across any information that would be useful to him, and she would keep Allen's secret until a Cancellarius forced it out of her. At his last question, she nodded. "Yes! I'll go fetch it right now." Would it be okay if she led him to her room? It couldn't hurt. "You can wait or follow me," she told him tentatively.
"Alright," Ira said smoothly. "I'd like to see more of this place anyhow. It look real different where you sleep?" Inviting him to her room? Wasn't that sweet... and wildly inappropriate. What would the other Civitates think of that? He rolled his bottom lip between his teeth to smother his smile and gestured for her to lead the way.
Evie led Ira down hallways that were still mostly in tact, ones that weren't as misshapen and touched from what happened a couple months ago. It was one of her only blessings that she could pretend her room was mostly normal.
"I'm still working on... how I interpret the Epistles," she admitted when they reached her room. It was very bare, simple, and clean room with her bed well made and her desk clear except for a copy of the Epistles. She picked the book up and offered it to Ira. "But the priests say I'm doing fine." How much those words were platitudes Evie didn't know, but she chose to believe the best of them.
"I'm sure you're doin' great," Ira said bashfully, accepting the book with both hands. He turned it over, mouth quirked to one side, and then glanced back up with a shrug. "I mean, it's your heart what matters in things like this, yeah? And you got a real big one. I was real rude and you still forgave me. So..." He grinned. "I think you understand 'em just fine."
and then ginga punched herself in the face for making ira such a douchhheee i'm sorry evie
someday, ira will be rightfully punched in the face???
Her smile was just as bashful as Ira wasn't. "Thank you. I try to be understanding, but I don't know if I'm always... It's not like everyone can be perfect." He had been quick to apologize. Why wouldn't she have forgiven him?
"The... the evening service is starting soon. Would you like to stay or see it another time?"
and then cita will come to earth and bless everyone and nothing will hurt only he won't be crazy this time but still maybe cillian murphy cause why the fuck not
This was ridiculous. Ira fixed his smile on Evie, black eyes narrowed and satisfied. "I'll stay, if you sit with me. Gotta have a translator for all them big words. That alright?"
"Yes, of course. I'll be happy to." And she was. Evie was glad Ira was willing to stay and listen. She had thought too many people would avoid the Citadel for the state it was in... for the fake that had changed so many things, for the Occia--the former Occia leaving, for how the Others had intruded where they weren't wanted, but maybe Ira was a step in the right direction.