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nineteen ; confrontations
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HELL MUST HAVE frozen, is all Eva can think as she stares at the haggard group of Mikaelson's standing at her door. It had been about a day since she had last saw them, and she still had yet to fully come back from that. Truthfully, Eva hadn't meant kill to almost kill Hope, everything had gotten the best of her, and she was blindsided by it.
And, if she was going to be completely honest with herself, Eva doesn't actually want Hope dead. Sure, Hope was basically a freaking lighthouse shining down on all of Eva's trauma. And sure, Eva truly wanted nothing to do with her, but she also wanted nothing to do with the rest of her family. Hope was child, just like Eva was, (and yes, that took a long time for Eva to really acknowledge) and didn't really have much control over the situation. Should she have treated Eva a little better, absolutely. Should she have treated Eva with a morsel of human decency, fuck yes. But, begrudgingly, Eva doesn't blame Hope for what happened; she was a child, and she acted in the way that the adults around her did.
Hope may not be to blame, but they are.
"Is there something we can help you with?" Steve's voice suddenly pops up from behind her, his hand wrapping around her waist as he stands as a gentle pressure behind her. His voice is harsh, and his eyes cold as he stares down at group in their doorway. Eva leans against him subtly, a quiet way of saying thank you, his presence acting as a source of strength for her.
