lily white / poppy red

@johannakoning​

“No, really, I mean it. If that draadtrekker tries to show his face here tonight, I’m punching him in the mouth. You won’t like me for it, but I will. You deserve better than that kak.” Evi speaks heatedly despite the bobby pin between her teeth, her fingers working in a head of brunette hair to try and salvage her cousin’s accidentally damaged hairstyle. The dance floor will do that. “Granted, he’ll probably have to bend down for me to reach his mouth, but still, I’ll make do.” The aforementioned hypothetical victim is, of course, the vampire that her cousin clearly lusts after, whom the younger witch had made the mistake of mentioning mere minutes before. God help Liam Lockhart if he tries to enter back through Lethe’s wards tonight as Johanna seems to so ardently wish he would. He’ll have Evi to answer to. For now, though, the elder Koning sighs in relief as she fastens the hair pin back into its proper place. “Maybe I should’ve gone to beauty school. I’d be a pretty good hairdresser. Or maybe a surgeon, with how miraculously steady my hands are.” She allows a beat to hover before she snorts a laugh, showing she’s far from serious. Hair taken care of, she pats Johanna’s shoulder to indicate her cousin can stand up straight again. Looking at her own reflection, Evi exhales before dabbing her face with cold water. “I remember these parties being more fun. Or am I just being irritable?”

Spring Equinox Gala 2021: Evi’s Outfit

@calliope-warren​

To put it frankly: this band is bad. In Evi’s opinion, anyway, which she makes clear as she puts her hands on her hips and tilts her head as they rev up another song, some terrible swing thing that makes her scoff. “Fokkall, what year is it, 1945?” That’s the trouble of living in a town chock full of immortals, she guesses: their tastes tend to be a little outdated. The comment hasn’t fallen on deaf ears, apparently, which Evi realizes as she turns and comes face to face with her friend. “I mean, really. Would’ve brought a pair of jazz shoes with me if I’d known.” As if she’s ever owned those. No, ballet slippers were what her mother forced into her hands. She’d ended up burning them, if she recalls correctly, and thus ended her dancing career. Well, of the formal sort, anyhow. As for the dance floor... that’s another story. If only there were the right music. For now, though, Evi simply reserves a lopsided smile for her friend, uncaring how they might obstruct those intending to dance. “Look at us. Definitely more polished than our usual muddy gardening clothes.” She laughs, shifting her weight on heeled feet. The shoes had definitely been a mistake. “I was worried maybe I wore you out yesterday with all the mulching. Thanks, again, for the help.”

“If it can be a mutually beneficial venture…?” she asked, tilting her head a little. Why not do it, right? But there was some wariness there that Cal didn’t quite know where it came from. That was Evi’s business and she didn’t push it. “It would just be very helpful if I can get my supplies for charms and amulets from there” the witch said. It was that simple, there were no ulterior motives for suggesting to plant herbs there that were known for their special properties. “Sounds fair” she said with a nod, the corners of her lips tugging up into a half-smile. It wouldn’t be too crazy to say that it was really magic keeping everything together in this place, because somehow shit just worked with little to no attention from ‘management’. She didn’t know if it had always been this way, but this place apparently was like a pest plant that bloomed in adversity. Calliope took a sip from her water and shrugged. This job was for her the very definition of being able to put food on the table. It wasn’t a bad job at all, but it was nothing more than the means to an end as she found her footing in this town. It puzzled her a little to see Evi put more money than necessary on the counter. She’d only ordered a Diet Coke. Cal appreciated the money, of course, but it never sat too well with her to take more than just her usual tip… she really was the world’s worst bartender, wasn’t she? She probably didn’t have to overthink something like this too much. “Thank you” she said with a little nod, genuinely grateful for this extra help her friend was giving her. “If it’s okay with you I could stop by tomorrow before work”.

Mutually beneficial. She’s heard that before. Lets it slide, too, just shrugging as she begins to pack up her belongings perhaps too hastily. “I get it. Besides, is it really any garden of mine if it doesn’t have that... witchy je ne sais quoi?” It’s not her garden at all, she’s insisted, but a community location. All her effort, thus far, but she doesn’t begrudge anyone for that. No, the solo effort has been good for her, she thinks. Money is tossed onto the bar with perhaps too much ease, and Evi waves away the hesitation she sees on her friend’s face. “Call it beginner’s luck.” She shrugs in response to the unvoiced hesitation, then nods. “Don’t see why not. I’ll be there.” Bag packed up to go, she slings it over her shoulder quickly, feeling like she’s already spent far too much time in this place. “I’ll see you then. Bring your own trowel.” And with a wry smirk, she heads to the door without so much as a parting glance back.

Naomi snorts. The garden did look like something out of Jumanji. In fact, she’s sure she made that very comment to Jonas months and months ago before Evi even came into the picture. Who knows when this…thing, between them started. Naomi’s lets her suspicions continue to wander as she watches Evi speak, putting on her best show at a polite smile. God she’s curious, and definitely reading into the fact that Jonas gave Evi a key. “Well I’m glad Jonas finally handed it to someone capable for the job. Good luck with finishing it up. Can’t wait to see the finished product of what once was a ‘George of The Jungle’ ready garden.” If anything, she’ll at least make an appearance. Her curiosity has and probably always will get the better of her…anyway, at least she’s been able to hold her tongue long enough to retrieve her remaining jewelry. That alone in itself is a mighty accomplishment in Naomi’s eyes.  

“Some’s jewelry,” she huffs out, “some tools…” Once she’s got the both the chest and toolkit pulled out from under the shit ton of stuff in Jonas’ storage room, Naomi pulls them open to make sure the contents are still inside. “…. never really thought of them as gardening tools, but I guess I can see it,” Naomi shrugs. Thank god nothing’s been touched, moved, or broken. Everything is where it should be, and this is enough to put the witch into a better mood. “Hm, custom? Of course!” She pipes up a couple notches louder, thrilled to hear she may have a new custom order on her hands. That’s the work she most enjoys spending her time on, even if the order is coming from Evi Koning. “I can do earrings,” she starts with a light nod, turning to face Evi crouched down. “I usually set up consultations with customers in need of custom work. That way we can go over details, what they’re looking for, et cetera, et cetera.” There’s a pause as the witch gets up and grabs her things, using magic so the items trail behind her. Easier that way. “We can set something up on the way out?” 

“Thank you.” See? She can be cordial. “There should be fliers out soon, I think, with the details of the event. But, ah, take this as a personal invitation.” One she might regret, but Naomi’s clearly Jonas’ friend, and the garden is, after all, Jonas’ space... so Evi will mind her manners. She’s not polite enough to help with the hauling of containers from the closet, at least not at first, but at the obvious labor of the effort she sighs and stoops over. “Got it.” She nods, raising her hands as Naomi inspects the contents, as if she’ll be accused if anything turns up broken. “I mean, what do I know,” Evi qualifies with a shrug. “Can’t say I do much jewelry-making.” Try none at all, but that feels obvious. The stilted mood lightens some at the mention of a custom order and Evi bites back a sigh of relief. The things money will buy... “My earring collection could use some love.” Many of those that she had managed to steal away with out of Pretoria had been pawned off. Again: money. “Oh.” A consult. Great. “I mean, yeah, that works. I’ll stop by sometime, get a look at the new place, too...” Definitely not on the top of her to do list. But it’s what a nice person would do, isn’t it? A generous person. A person who didn’t dread small talk. About to try and prove some of that niceness to herself, Evi reaches to help carry the items, only to find them floating ahead of her. Right. What a proper witch would do. “Sounds good to me. My datebook is, ah, pretty open, other than pulling weeds. So you tell me.” Miraculously, the rain has let up, which means their time in each other’s company is likely winding down. Who should she thank for that? Mother Nature? “Anyway, it was... nice to catch up.” Would’ve been nice if that sounded less like a lie, too, but she’s trying, at least. More than she usually does. “And I said, the door – or, ah, gate is always open. To the garden. Come take a look around, if you’d like, when the weather is less... Washington-esque.”

Power is everything wrong with their family, twisting them into shadows of what they could be, and she sees the marks of it in Evi’s sharp words. She has no ability to heal them, or any light to shed upon the darkest spots. “Do you want me to blame you? Would that make this easier?” she asks, fighting back tears, her emotions always so quick to spike at the pain of others. Helpless, Jo watches Evi shoot up to her feet, the painting forming in Jo’s eyes breaking as she does so. This is, after all, not something she can fix by dumping different colors on it, no matter how much easier it would be. She doesn’t rise with her, head tilted back to look up at this older cousin of hers, cracking in front of her. They haven’t spoken of the drugs littering the pieces of Evi’s past, an unfortunate mess Jo had long thought she picked up on the run, but– “Evi–” No, she bites her lip hard, Evi still talking, and Jo feels as though she can no more interrupt them than she can halt the sun from rising in the window behind Evi, illuminating her in shades of red and orange. The sunrise feels like a wasted beauty on the ugliness of Evi’s words. Cas is dead, and Evi is the reason why, her thoughts summarize unhelpfully. “Is that all?” she states, purposely bland, swallowing back anything that might give her away. Control, she’s good at that, she’s always been polite. Polite. Good. That’s what Evi thinks of her, too. She grimaces. Evi deserves… something, but Jo doesn’t know what to give her or what to tell her. She promised a selfish acceptance for the only person she has left, but she isn’t sure how. Not yet. Still, Jo needs to speak and she looks up at Evi thoughtfully, trying to make her tone soothing in a way that the questions aren’t. “Did he try to hurt you? Did he threaten you? Could you have played along? Cas is… He could have played the hero like he always wanted and you could have come home.“ At what price? Jo doesn’t finish her sentence, a scowl on her face, unable to find a solution that doesn’t end with Evi hurt either way.

The first spark of anger isn’t from what Evi tells her. She can’t… She can’t find it in her to be angry at her cousin’s death. Not when there’s a distinct possibility that the alternative is Evi, trapped with their family, withering under their attention as Anton and Frederik did without anyone to care or notice. The anger comes from the idea that Jo will blame her. “Don’t tell me what to do,” she says, more snappish than she intends, defeating the purpose of her words. Her palm presses hard into her eyes once more, needing the near spark of pain to stabilize her thoughts. The vase shatters, and for half a heartbeat, wariness hits her. “I am not like them. I am not.” Her eyes land on the vase. Evi, or her? Which is worse, she wonders? Her fingers are clenched in her lap, tight enough for the knuckles to be white. “You can’t tell me someone hurt you - family or not - or threatened you and you, on a whim, decided to let them die. You aren’t a coward for saving yourself. What were you options? Truly, tell me, what could you have done? You said it yourself, he was a better witch than you both. And–” And. Jo fumbles, unsure, but fumbles on still. If anyone deserves a mess of an answer, but a genuine one, it’s Evi. “Are you upset that he died, or upset that you witnessed it?” This is where the territory is tricky, where she isn’t sure what to say or how to say it, and her anger is trickling away like a faucet turned off. She’s always run strong and then off. ”I promised honesty, didn’t I? I think… I think you were doomed from the start. A life spent running, or a life spent trapped.”

“Is that all?” It comes out as a guffaw and Evi blinks hard. Jo, of all people, should be shocked. Disgusted. After all, they’d lived a sheltered life, hadn’t they? Jo especially, it had always seemed. Jo, who Evi had been nearly crucified for almost hurting during their reckless teenaged days. “W-What does that mean, is it all?” Has Jo somehow seen worse? Did she expect worse? What is worse than fleeing the scene with bloodstained hands – the blood of your family, no less? “He was armed to the teeth with threats. Of course he was, it was Cas. He wouldn’t have just let me go, Jo. He would’ve made good on his word. Him playing the hero would’ve meant... nothing good for me. He grabbed me by the shirt and told me if I wasn’t a disgrace already, he was going to make me one, and I...” She’s not sure when her eyes closed, but they’re there now, fingers clenching and unclenching against the memory. “I panicked. I just... panicked.” 

“No. No, you’re not.” Evi agrees, softer now, with a shake of her head. “That’s why I didn’t turn tail and run when I first saw you. I’ve always known that. You’re not like them at all.” Which means her version of justice is much more unpredictable. Better the devil you know, isn’t that what they say? Jo seems like a regular saint in her eyes, but Evi is also unaware of how she rights wrongs. The lecture seems to be the start of it, and so Evi takes it quietly, letting her gaze rest on the floor. Her head shakes at the repeated question, and she shrugs. There was only one option at the time. It feels hasty and foolish and, God, so selfish in hindsight. But did they have any other options, really? She doesn’t know. Doesn’t know the answer to the next question, either, and it takes her aback enough that she has to swallow hard. The question laid bare, in front of her gaze, anyway, seems to be hold an entirely different meaning. Not so much about if she’s upset, but something else. Is she a good person? Isn’t that what it comes down to? A good person would grieve their brother. A good person would repent. “I don’t know.” No, she does. Evi does know, she knows exactly how she feels, and it comes tumbling out like a confession. Of her emotions or her character itself, she can’t be sure. “That’s not true. I’ve never grieved him. Maybe because I never took the time to, but... that’s not it.” She exhales, gaze on the window, expression toeing the line at angry once more, but it’s not toward Jo. Not at all. “No, I’m not sorry he died. He was a bastard. I was sorry his death ruined my life. But I guess I did that myself.” Jo may have a point, that the life she’d led wasn’t one worth keeping. But escape had come at the expense of her brother. “Yeah. Yeah, maybe.” She murmurs, exhaling noisily after the fact and finally meeting her cousin’s eyes again. “I know you’re not like them. But still, if you’re angry, you’ve got every right to be. And I promise you, you won’t call me anything I haven’t already called myself. That’s all there is to know, though. Really. After that we just... ran.” Her grand confession seems almost small now, but that’s probably just because it’s had such time to fester in her mind. In its wake is a marked silence, heavy enough to leave Evi biting hard on the inside of her lip, wishing she could conjure up something to say to mend all this. 

I. BASIC

FULL NAME: Evi Koning NICKNAME(S): None DATE OF BIRTH: June 12 1980 NATIONALITY: South African OCCUPATION: Gardener RELIGION: Atheist GENDER IDENTITY: Cisgender ORIENTATION: Heterosexual ETHNICITY: Caucasian SPECIES: Witch

II. APPEARANCE

FACE CLAIM: Amy Adams HEIGHT: 5′ 4 ′′ WEIGHT: 128 lbs HAIR COLOR: Red EYE COLOR: Blue DOMINANT HAND: Right SCARS:  The mark of a failed hex from her brother on her back, self harm scars on her hips and thighs TATTOOS: Two small protea, her favorite plant, on the outside of her left forearm PIERCINGS: Earlobes of both ears, helix of right ear

III. BACKGROUND

HOMETOWN: Pretoria, South Africa CURRENT RESIDENCE: Lethe, Washington FINANCIAL STATUS: Middle Class EDUCATION LEVEL: Attended school through 12th grade

IV. RELATIONSHIPS

FATHER: Maghiel Koning MOTHER: Amelda Koning (née van der Meer) SIBLINGS:  Cas Koning (deceased) FAMILY: Johanna Koning, Anton Koning, Frederick Koning (cousins) PET(S): A cat named Pepijn

V. PERSONALITY

MYERS-BRIGGS: ISTP-T ENNEATYPE: Type 5 MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Neutral TEMPERAMENT: Melancholic HOGWARTS HOUSE: Slytherin ELEMENT: Air SIN: Pride VIRTUE: Fortitude QUALITIES: Witty, creative, hardworking. FLAWS:  Withdrawn, presumptuous, diffident. SPOKEN LANGUAGES: English, Afrikaans FEAR(S): Disappointment to the point of disgrace; discovery of her past wrongdoings; large, predatory animals

VI. FAVORITES

Reggie laughs, obviously amused by her claim of‘pure and wholesome motivations only’. He can’t say he’s ever had the pleasure of meeting someone with such motivations before. “I’ll take your words for it,” he lies, placing the orchid on the countertop. He nods as he goes through the fully stocked cupboard– the vampire doesn’t need or use half of the stuff in there. He hires people to shop for grocery and decorate the apartment, simply for the pretense of normalcy. It humanizes him, and in his experience, other’s sympathy is something he can exploit to survive. He finds a pack of lemon ginger tea and starts the hot water on the stove. He looks back at her with this look that reads ‘girl, please’. “Evi, darling, you needn’t bribe me with flowers for my insight. I’m always happy to provide.” He offers her a soft, empty smile. “That sounds easy enough. Might I ask why, or any landmine to avoid?” He asks as he opens the fridge– finds a small box of macaroons from the Sweet Spot. He puts some out on a floral plate and sets it on the counter for her. “Money’s not an issue for me, if I’m being perfectly honest…” He scratches his cheek. Money is useful, but it’s not the only currency he deals in. “Tell you what, I’ll do this one for free, for old time’s sake.” Sometimes one must show compassion– because it sometimes returns in twofold. Call it an investment.

“You shouldn’t.” Evi smirks at the mention of taking her word for it. If there’s anything she knows about herself, it’s that trust like that is usually ill-fated. Not the sort of thing she’ll unpack with Reginald Roshan, though. Or, preferably, anyone at all. The witch trails him into his home, raising a brow at the fully stocked kitchen. Interesting. “Do you host people here often? Can’t imagine you have much use for a bowl full of fruit.” She lifts an orange from its display place on the counter, in part to emphasize her point and also to check on its reality. No, it is real, which only deepens her puzzled frown. Truly, really interesting. He’s not the only strange character she’s met over the years, of course. Traveling in circles like the ones she did will do that. But still, he has her full attention as she perches on a stool in the kitchen. “Well, I can’t exactly bribe you with cute little pastries, so...” The witch replies dryly, then nods, the teasing tone dropped. “Good to know. Thank you.” She shrugs at the question, hoping she gives the air of nonchalance though she feels far from it. “You can ask, but that doesn’t mean I’ll answer.” Coy might not be the right game to play. “They lost a son, a few years back.” She knows how many days, sometimes how many hours, but that won’t be divulged. “I imagine that’ll be easy to get caught up in, but that’s not really what I’m seeking. Looking for the more recent stuff.” The offer is one she should accept, but Evi hesitates. Indebtedness isn’t her favorite feeling, so she neither accepts nor rejects the offer. Not yet, anyhow. “What else would you want, then, if you could get it? Other than money?”

Matt hums to himself, cocking his head to the side and watching her. Running into your random hookups without the booze to numb your senses or the neon lights of the night is not the best feeling in the world… or so he’s been told. Honestly, Matt doesn’t understand what is there to be awkward about. “Well, there was a fire at Terrance’s,” he conveniently drops the part that he technically started it by accident. How was he supposed to know they were carrying Molotov cocktails? “So I’m kind of on a vacation.” He steps aside to the mouth of an alleyway. He fishes out a cigarette and lights it with a tiny blue flame on the tip of his hand. He tips the packet toward Evi, offering her one. “Don’t know what that means exactly. Is it the blueish one?” He asks with the cigarette hanging between his lips. “It’s not like I planned on running into you. It’s back at the apartment. I’m on my way back there, if you wanna grab it. I can just drop it off at your work too–” he offers before his impish nature pushes him for teasing her, “or would that be too embarrassing for you?”

“Oh? Well.” Normally she would’ve been one of the first to know that the town’s beloved bar had been set aflame. Now, though, the news passed her by easily. Interesting. “Congrats, I guess, on the vacation. Is... was everyone alright? Was it arson again?” It’s really not the ideal place to live, is it? Lethe, run rampant with ghosts and arsonists and... well, it’s still better than Pretoria, anyway. That’s what matters. Thoughts of ghosts and home make the cigarette offer especially tempting, but she shakes her head. “I’m alright. Thanks.” It’s brusque, even more so than she normally is, but Evi doesn’t bother with an apology. It’d be waved off anyway, more likely than not. “Blueish. They were a gift once, so...” She’d like them back. Maybe. Not like they go hand in hand with the best memories. A laugh is huffed at the offer, and Evi shakes her head. “I’m not easily embarrassed.” That’s a lie if she’s ever told one. “But I also have plenty of free time right now.” Also likely untrue, given that Jo will likely be calling, wondering where she is. Pride presses her forward, somewhat insistent. “I’ll just get it now. Unless you’d be seriously bothered by my company. Then I’ll just show up tomorrow morning and pound on your door to really bother you.” Childish? Definitely. Better than him showing up at the garden? Also definitely.

No retort springs to her mind, pondering the idea of a cheese factory. She won’t ask though, she has self-control enough to just let it– “Why would you have cheese in a factory? Are you locking farmers into a building? Seems counterproductive, but I suppose that’s not unusual for humans,” Lily comments, puzzled, giving into the inevitable questions brewing in her mind. If Evi doesn’t like them, she’ll no doubt say as much. Her brows quirk, taking in the easy smile on the witch’s face and the way the plant seems to calm at her presence. She’s more and more convinced this isn’t a normal plant by any means, not even magical ones. The nip on her finger is stings more than one expects from a plant, and the healing brings a furrow to her face. Healing isn’t her best talent, oh well, it isn’t deep enough to worry and Lily lets her hand drop. “Hm, I hope giving it fae blood isn’t going to make it act unusual, it does strange things to people I’m told. I’m sorry, you gave what a temper?” she repeats the name, accent thickening around the word, equally baffled. “Ah, I meant my sister, Gemma, the one staying in my basement, I get the feeling she would like something like this. Scaring and biting people off our property? Yes, she might love this.” Her eyes narrow, thinking, absently squeezing her finger as it aches, system trying to clear whatever it is that keeps her from healing this. “Are there any human holidays for gift giving? I am afraid her name day has come and gone.”

“I mean, I’m not locking farmers anywhere, but I can’t speak for all cheesemakers...” What a whirlwind conversation, and Evi catches herself laughing because of it. She’d suspected that letting a fae rent from her would lead to meeting a colorful character. Good to know her suspicions were right. Still, she likes Lily, enough to wince in sympathy when her finger is snapped at. “Well, I try to stray away from vampiric plants, so I think you’re in the clear. If your heart stops and you suddenly get all cold and attractive, though, maybe I’m wrong.” In truth, she knows next to nothing about the requirements for a change into a vampire, but for the sake of a joke, that’ll do. The echoing of the plant name receives a nod. “Yes, they don’t love to give these things easy names. Not everything can be a daisy, I guess. Anyway, this one developed a bit of an... individual personality. You were just privy to it. Sorry about that.” Evi raises a brow at the mention of a basement-dwelling sibling, but just nods. She’d been unaware of the new tenant, but she’s hardly a watchdog. In fact... She purses her lips, tilting her head. “Well, there are birthdays, but I have a feeling they’re the same. Can’t say we’re closing in on any major holidays soon – not that I know of, anyway. If anyone has strange traditions I know nothing about, though, it’s Americans.” It’s an absentminded comment, really, and by the end Evi is folding her arms, head tilted. “You can keep it, though.” She nods toward the plant to clarify. “My new house is so full of plants already that I sometimes worry I’ll lose my cousin in them. I’m sure she wouldn’t appreciate me bringing yet another one home.” Then, to ease some worries: “I’ll charm it so it calms down. And I’m happy to help you get it downstairs. Call it a housewarming gift.”

The fears: disappointment to the point of disgrace. Discovery of her past wrongdoings. Large, predatory animals. 

@tildaballantine​

“No, I mean it. If there’s anyone you shouldn’t be embarrassed in front of, it’s me. I can count the amount of successful hexes I’ve thrown on one hand.” Evi is perched upon one of the assorted chairs that are set out on the back deck, shaking her head with sincerity toward her friend. “Don’t believe me? Watch.” She stands in order to accomplish what she’s sure will be a pathetic display of magic, frowning for a moment as she tries to pick a target. “Look. Garden gnome. I’ll...” Evi shrugs, knowing her choice hardly matters. “I’ll try to grow it. Make it taller.” She inhales, closing her eyes and stretching out a hand for a moment. The gnome itself doesn’t grow, but the spot of moss on its forehead certainly does, hastily enough that the statue goes tipping over backwards. It clatters to the ground beside Layla, whom Evi had handed an animated flower mere moments before. The baby is only momentarily vexed, clearly, as she blinks then laughs loudly enough that it echoes. “Oh, I’m glad someone thinks it’s funny,” Evi shakes her head, though she mirrors the laugh as she stands the gnome upright and quickly shrinks the growing moss. “There you go: case in point. Unless it’s leafy and green, I’m essentially only as good as any carnival magician.” With some notable exceptions, but that’s not the point. She gives Layla’s head an affectionate pat before returning to her seat. “In short, I’m happy to practice with you. I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but I have the feeling we could both use a crash course without some family legacy breathing down our necks.”

Perhaps Evi’s gardening shouldn’t come as much of a surprise to her. The shop she once rivaled did carry an overabundance of greenery…maybe it isn’t all that shocking Evi has a hand in it. Funny, Naomi thinks with a smirk, though she says nothing. I thought the hands of a heart eating sea witch would do more harm than good. Let alone keep something alive. Ah, yes. These were the types of comments she would definitely be keeping to herself from now on. Instead she turns that smirk into a smile, and gives a polite nod. “Well, you get what you put in. And it seems like you’re passionate about it, so maybe people will be too,” the witch shrugs. At least that’s the advice she took to heart when dealing with her own passions. Like her jewelry shop, for example. Jonas and Evi’s relationship, however, she is much less passionate about. “Uhuh…” Naomi murmurs, looking at the other witch before she dismisses the idea entirely. There’s no way…right? Naomi looks at Evi one more time…yeah, there’s no way. No! …..no.

“At least we can agree on something.” It’s a miracle. Call the fucking paper, they need it out first thing tomorrow morning, front goddamn page; ‘Evi Koning and Naomi Clover agreed on something…but is it more than awkwardness? Find out below!’ She’d have to tell Tilda about it, give her the first at the scoop….oh. Shit. Evi’s saying words…well, now she’s gone ahead and missed half of what the redhead’s said. Naomi just nods, having caught the tail end of Evi’s reply. “I remember when it was just weeds! It looked really fucking shitty…now it doesn’t.” Wow. Great story, you’re so observant, Naomi thinks at herself, grimacing outwardly to the crowded storage room. The grimace only grows when she’s told she’ll have to do this locator spell on her own. Ugh. “Right, nearly forgot,” the witch nods with a raise of her hands, “you’re plant lady!” Sarcastic yes, but it’s not intended to be an insult either. The familiar purple tinted smoke of Naomi’s magic flows out of her fingertips and descends around the storage room while she chants her incantation. Every nook and cranny is filled as it searches for the jewelry items she’s picturing in her head. The more detailed, the quicker it goes. Another minute passes by before the witch opens her eyes, finding two of the four corners of the room covered in purple smoke. “Aha! Would you look at that?” Naomi smiles back at Evi as she goes to one corner, reaching down into a pile to pull out a small blue chest filled with various custom made items. “You know how long I’ve been looking for this? Weeks.” Thank god it’s in the storage room…she thinks as she makes her way to the other corner, pulling out a larger organizer filled with her crafting tools. “Ah! This too!” 

Well, now that she’s acting like that, Evi wants to revoke her agreement. But she’s not that childish. Her internal monologue, however... Evi simply shakes it off, turning the topic back to the garden. Definitely easier. “Extremely shitty. It looked like something out of Jumanji before I started chipping away at it.” Not to toot her own horn...  “I was surprised Jonas hadn’t hired help sooner – and surprised he offered it to me, honestly. But it’s turned into a passion project of sorts.” Anyway. Enough babbling about her plants. “Opening’s set for June twelfth, I think. As long as I don’t do anything disastrous in the meantime.” So far, so good. She can only hope the trajectory continues. The plant chatter felt ridiculous enough before, let alone when Naomi grants her some title. Is that meant to be an insult? Plant lady. Sure feels like it. “...Right.” Evi bites back any further comment, just turning to the issue at hand: the storage room, which she can’t do a thing to help with unless they want to do this manually. Plant lady, indeed. She cranes her neck once Naomi has managed to pull out the chest of objects, though her arms have crossed over her chest. Childish, maybe. “Well, voila.” She shrugs, though she nods toward the chest. “Is that all jewelry?” Her brow raises at the craft tools, and she nods. “Impressive assortment. Look like... miniature gardening tools, almost.” Kak, she really can’t help but be the plant lady, can she? Ridiculous. Anyway. “Do you, ah, do custom orders?” June twelfth, incidentally, is also her birthday. As well as what will almost exactly be the marker of her fourth month of sobriety – if she keeps her shit together. Maybe she’ll get herself a gift, if she earns it. “I may or may not be in the market for a new pair of earrings.”

All the options she once considered for Evi’s flight seem silly in the face of her cousin’s evident pain. She’s never been the type of person to show emotion easily - oh, Jo has seen her in all the shades of angry and the pale shades of guilt or fear, but never this. “I don’t blame you for finding freedom,” she says softly, the realization glossing over the hurt. Not healing it, but saying it had cleared some of the haze. “I could no more leave Frederik or Anton than you could take all three of us. This… Us meeting here. This was meant to be, no matter the circumstances that brought us here.” Easier to say when she doesn’t know the truth, and Jo fears what feels like an inevitable plummet. Evi’s lips quiver, and Jo has to bite her own to hold back the urge to sweep her cousin into a hug. They’ll never talk if she does. “Evi, he’s been dead a long time ago now, what are you…” she murmurs, confused at how Evi and Ricus connect to Cas at all. If she had to paint realization, it would be red. Like Evi’s hair, like the splotches of red on her cheeks from crying, like the way the world looks as Jo’s clenches her eyes closed. Her fingers loosen on Evi’s, palm pressing against her face, trying to reconcile the Cas she knew with the one Evi describes. Threatening Evi. Scaring Evi. Terrible. It isn’t how she remembers him - but she’s long known her family is capable of atrocities. “I don’t understand, he… and you… It was an accident? Evi, I thought you haven’t done accidental magic since you were a kid and Cas was a strong witch, how can you kill him on accident?” Jo asks, opening her eyes, feeling as though she were still several steps behind, unable to connect one point from the next. “I don’t… I don’t know if I remember Cas the way you do, but I don’t disbelief you. I would not blame you if you killed him outright.” Startling, even to her. Jo is uncomfortable thinking it, but she spent long enough wishing a bolt of lightning might hit their family. Wishing herself strong enough to break fingers if it meant being free, so how can she judge Evi if she did the same? No, wait. We, Evi said. Her eyes shoot to Evi, looking struck. “Fok. You both killed him. All this time, I thought he went with you, or you went with him.” Not premeditated then, but arguably worse. Much, much worse. “Evi, do they know? How much does our family know?”

She doesn’t understand. Of course she doesn’t – for full clarity, Evi will have to divulge further details. The thought makes her feel sick. “He was such a strong witch. Stronger than I’ll ever be.” It’s quiet, and Evi hates how jealous it sounds. But that’d been the problem, hadn’t it? Her brother could have bested them both in magic with a hand tied behind his back. “It wasn’t...” Not accidental magic, at least not like that. “It wasn’t that kind of accident.” She doesn’t want to divulge. Doesn’t want to pull names from hats that are better left unsaid nowadays, their sick illusion put to rest. If only. “No, Jo, you can’t – can you stop being this nice for a second? You should blame me. Who else is there to blame?” She’s standing now, hands clenching and unclenching, knowing fair and well that her anger is misdirected. It’s not at Jo. Not really. But it all comes rushing out, hot and teary and red, though if that’s from memory or emotion, she’s not sure. “My brother walked into where I made and sold drugs, Jo. If that wasn’t bad enough, he never walked out. He grabbed me by the shirt, and I hexed him off of me and...” The laugh she lets out is so bitter she can practically taste it. “Pushed him right into the lion’s den.” Her bottom lip quivers and her nose wrinkles, scared and shaken and beyond mad. 

“I didn’t do anything. I just stood there. I let it happen. And then I ran. We ran. I wasn’t doing anything noble, Jo. I wasn’t seeking some higher road out, okay? Not like you. I’m not like you. I let my brother die so I could keep on doing what I was doing, and then I turned away like a coward. So...” What does she want? To get it over with, mostly. She remembers too many nights of childhood spent knowing a scolding, a punishment, a hit was coming. The dread of waiting for hours. If she’s bound toward something like that with her cousin, she can’t wait. “So you can blame me. You should blame me. You should – you should be angry with me, okay? Just do it now. Tell me how you feel, not what you want me to hear. Please just – you don’t... you don’t owe me anything, but if you could just... just get it over with.” What bitter irony that this is the moment a vase shatters behind her, sending Evi whirling around to see the damage. When she looks back to her cousin, it’s with a mix of trepidation and acceptance. “Fok. Okay. Okay. You’re angry. It’s fine. It’s good. B-Be angry. Go ahead.”

You just had to let her get it all out, be it snark or surprise, and it was a delight to watch regardless. Was it too much to hand cut paper for an envelope and whip out the calligraphy inks for the name on the front? Maybe, but she’d told him more than once he was the most extra person she knew and he might as well live up to that. Especially if it brought the kind of joy to her that he saw right now. “I’m gonna assume that’s a cuss word, darlin’. And no, shit, who’d want my soul? I’m an insomniac, I hopped on the site at 4am the morning they opened up ticket sales.” Jonas said, only to be damn near thrown flat by her next sentence. Could kiss him, huh? Oh. Oh dear. Saying something like that and looking so beautiful, so extravagantly happy in ways he’d never seen in the two years he’d known her, that was…a lot. He could feel the blush going to the tips of his ears and he looked away from her wide blue gaze for a moment to recover himself. Thankfully she threw him an opening by starting to tear herself down a little. He could work with that. “Evi, of course I like gardens. I just can’t manage ‘em myself, hence why you’re doin’ me such a favor working out back. I’m an alchemist more than anything else, for chrissakes! So you ain’t gonna bore me.” Jonas countered, nudging at her foot under the table with his own. This was better, this didn’t make his heart pound in his chest and send his thoughts cantering towards how beautiful she was and how smart, how much he wondered if he was a bad sponsor given he could tell that feelings were sneaking in around the cracks. Feelings he should stifle, but oh, the radiance of her smile! That was something else. Jonas snorted at her request and shook his head. “Hell no. Bad enough you talked me into lettin’ you pay for lunches and dinners from time to time.” He paused, then decided he might as well say what needed saying. “I’m real proud of you, Evi.”

If asked, Evi would claim that she hates surprises. Doesn’t like being taken off guard that way, or feeling indebted, or even running the risk of being underdressed. But this surprise... well. The expression on her face probably says enough, she imagines between scoffs of disbelief. “Four o’clock in the morning? Jonas.” She could scold – should, probably, but she’s too busy for now, holding the tickets in both hands now as if they’re fragile. “Liking might not be strong enough, actually. I’m a little worried that you’re going to be less keen about letting me onto your property once you see my full passion for a decent dahlia arrangement.” The nudge against her foot brings her gaze up again, and Evi smiles again – softer, more wry. Lets it hang, too, in a rare moment of eye contact she doesn’t bother to pry away. 

“What can I say? I’ve got an impeccable taste.” Reggie replies with a playful smile, even though the flowers are not for himself. There is a source in Lethe he is trying to gain favor from, and their favorite flowers happen to be orchids. Sure, he spends time and energy maintaining a certain aesthetic, but only it serves a purpose. “Thanks, darling. These are lovely.” He says as he waits for her to pop the question. Reggie has spend centuries reading other people’s intents behind their eyes. He can always sense that someone has a favor to ask… “Is this an ulterior motive orchid? I’m hurt,” he says, pouting as a joke. He wipes off the gloomy face in a manner of second and gestures her to come in. “Can hardly talk shop out in a corridor– would you like something to drink?” he offers as he strides into the kitchen.

“Right. Impeccable.” Evi bats back with a roll of her eyes, a sideways smile. Still, she can’t pretend that she doesn’t appreciate the business. It’s sort of scant these days – especially compared to mere months ago. But that was a different time, she reminds herself silently, fiercely. “Glad you like them.” The gardener replies before tiptoeing around her own request. Good thing she’s not dealing with one of the fae. Her emotions would probably topple right out. “Of course not. What kind of gardener do you take me for? My flowers come from a place of pure and wholesome motivations only.” Not at all true, and Evi sighs, about to launch into her line of questioning right here on the stoop. Luckily, she’s presented an invite. “That’d be great, actually. Ah... anything citrus is my preference, but I’m not picky.” She shrugs, shoe scuffing the ground once she’s leaned against the kitchen wall. “Anyway. If you’re looking for side work, I’ve got this... family I’d really like some... insight on.” Her own family, but that’s not necessary to share, even though it very well may come into light later. “Down in Pretoria. South Africa.” She specifies perhaps too quickly – after all, it is her hometown. “Just the basics. Current whereabouts, any recent headlines. Very recent. Within the last... year or two. Nothing too deep.” She’s got to tread lightly here. Don’t need those ghosts dug up. “Can’t offer anything more interesting than money, I’m afraid. But I’m willing to pay whatever you see fit.”