Scar

Scar Part VIII

The following day at work, Evelyn's head pounded from all of the screams of delight, worry, and surprise from her fellow soldiers. Questions such as, "what did he do to you," and, "how did you ever get away," bombarded her, and it pained her to create the lies she told in response (wondering all the while why, if she was missed so much, a search party wasn't sent right away). After all, these people still knew him as a killer, and to paint him in any other way would arouse suspicion. 

Amidst all of the cries came a familiar voice. "Well, let's just thank God she's okay." She hadn't heard the deep rumble and the deceivingly polite tone of this voice since before the Ishvalan War of Extermination. It stirred the distant memories of a love long passed which ended in turmoil. It couldn't be. She turned slowly around.

"Kimblee?" Horrified disbelief invaded her voice.

"Evelyn, you know you call me Zolf." Everything about him from his voice to his smile was poisoned honey.

"I..I thought you...were-"  

"Imprisoned?" His smirk was nauseating. "I guess they decided to let me out because of good behavior." Evelyn's jaw tightened. Sensing the tension in the room, the crowd left, leaving Zolf and Evelyn to face each other.

His demeanor blew a cool breeze, which would have been welcomed by many in the cloudy heat of their ignorance, but it only fanned the fire which consumed the red-eyed girl.

"Don't act like we're friends, and especially don't act like we're anything more than that," she spat.

"Evelyn," he cooed, "you can't say you didn't miss me. Let's just be reasonable. We loved each other before the war. Why not now?" The familiar feeling of his hands around her waist was a trigger that shot past memories and emotions through her. They made her shiver, but these were mere imprints. Now, the only true feelings she bore for him were hate and disgust.

"Reasonable?! Let's not forget what you were imprisoned for, Zolf- war crimes. Now, I'll go to Hell before I ever go hand-in-hand with someone who viciously slaughtered hundreds of my people." She pushed him away. Instantly, his pride was shot, and he forced himself to suppress his own anger. 

"Evelyn, I'm a soldier. I was following orders."

"And having way to much fun doing it." The sight of Ishval in ruins tickled her nose and stung her eyes with tears. 

"Forgive me, Evelyn." His apparent sincerity sent her rage staggering. She wanted desperately to have the blind optimism to believe him, but it wasn't in her power. This was just the kind of nonsense he always said to weasel his way out of everything. 

She whipped around and began to storm out of the room, but his heavy hand around her arm pulled her to a halt. She could feel his eyes on her. They beckoned for an answer, for reprieve. 

"I can forgive a lot of things, Zolf, but genocide isn't one of them." Lifelessly, his hand fell from her arm, and she walked away, battling her sobs.

Scar wandered aimlessly around Evelyn's modest townhouse where they agreed he'd stay during daylight hours. Evelyn's vast expanse of books were there to keep him company, but through the torturous hours, he found that, indeed, he became antisocial even with bound pages at some point. Besides, his attention was limited when all he desired to think of was her. What he wanted most was to be next to Evelyn and ensure her safety and happiness. he was determined to make up this lost time some day- hopefully in the Ishvalan town in which they both grew up. They hadn't ever talked of marriage, but that was his intent. The moments in which he was honest with himself, he'd admit that he was intimidated by initiating this discussion. Maybe, he shouldn't. He knew his love was reciprocated, and no doubt was in his heart that the altar was his ultimate desire. 

Suddenly, he rocketed up off of the couch and walked purposefully out of the door. If Evelyn ever heard of him doing this, she would be infuriated, for under no circumstances was he to go out for fear of being recognized as a highly wanted man with a considerable bounty on his head. They had both agreed the stakes were too high, but this was something he must do. Tradition must be upheld if Ishvala were to ever approve of this union.

...to be continued...