Evangeline

Are you a princess?

@/mycophobic-fugitive

@mycophobic-fugitive

Bela paused at the question, the faintest hint of surprise crossing her expression. Children didn’t often address her so directly. There was something… disarming in it. Something innocent.

"A princess?" she repeated softly, a hint of amusement in her tone.

Her gaze lowered to meet the child’s, a slight tilt of her head following. "No… not quite. A princess would imply a kingdom," she replied, her lips curving just slightly. "I am the daughter of a countess."

mycophobic-fugitive

Evangeline lowered her head, a hint of timidity in her body language for the first time. Mama was very serious about stranger danger — though Evangeline supposed she'd already broken the rules by talking to a stranger at all. Besides, this stranger was nice, certainly nicer than the weird bird lady. "Evangeline," She kept her head down, her voice shy now. "What's yours?"

Bela noticed the shift immediately. The lowered head, the quieter voice and the sudden uncertainty that had not been present a moment ago.

She was not particularly fond of children. They tended to be loud, impulsive, and endlessly curious. Still, Bela possessed a great deal more patience than most people gave her credit for and there was something almost admirable about a child so eager to learn.

"Evangeline," she repeated softly. "A very pretty name." There was no teasing in the observation, merely a simple statement.

"My name is Bela Dimitrescu." A faint note of pride entered her voice. "I'm the eldest daughter of Countess Alcina Dimitrescu."

Her hands rested in her lap as she sat upon the low stone wall. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Evangeline." The child's gaze remained lowered and Bela considered that for a moment before speaking again. "You need not to look at the ground when speaking to me. I don't bite." she said, her tone gentler than before. "You have asked thoughtful questions so far."

#the giant lady's not giant daughters | bela cassandra and daniela #resident evil roleplay

Evangeline's shoulders relaxed and she lifted her head, smiling shyly.

"Thank you," her voice was a bit louder now, albeit still timid. Would Mama still be mad at her for talking to a stranger if the stranger was nice? She hoped not. "Your name and your mama's name are pretty too. Does Bela mean pretty, like Belle does?"

At the mention of biting, her chin dipped again, only a little this time, and she gave Bela a serious look. "I know a boy who bites. No one ever wants to play with him at recess or do projects with him. My friend had to get stitches in her arm 'cause of him. So, it's good that you don't bite."

//I'm ngl guys, I'm tempted to open Evangeline up to the RE9 verse too.. How would I fit her in 9? Fuck if I know. I just know I wanna.

#meanwhile... | ooc

Are you a princess?

@/mycophobic-fugitive

@mycophobic-fugitive

Bela paused at the question, the faintest hint of surprise crossing her expression. Children didn’t often address her so directly. There was something… disarming in it. Something innocent.

"A princess?" she repeated softly, a hint of amusement in her tone.

Her gaze lowered to meet the child’s, a slight tilt of her head following. "No… not quite. A princess would imply a kingdom," she replied, her lips curving just slightly. "I am the daughter of a countess."

mycophobic-fugitive

Evangeline nodded along as the woman spoke. The answer made sense, but still opened up about a million questions. Boy, was she ever glad she found someone willing to explain! ...Maybe she should ask them one at a time, though. The lady was being nice about her having questions, but Dad said she could drive even the most patient teachers crazy, and she didn't want to risk it. "Inherited meansss..." She stretched the word out as she wracked her brain, her face scrunching in concentration. "...something you get from your parents, right? So, you'll be a countess too?" Okay, that was more than one, but still better than earlier.

Bela allowed the child to work through the thought, watching the way the conclusion formed rather than interrupting it. There was no sign of impatience, nor any dismissal of the child’s questions.

"Yes. That is correct," Bela repeated softly, a faint nod following. She leaned just slightly forward, engaged rather than distant. "It is something passed down from parent to child.," the blonde continued, careful not to overcomplicate it.

She paused for a moment before addressing the next question "Not… immediately," Bela added. There was the slightest hint of something thoughtful in her expression. "My mother holds that title and as long as she does, it remains hers," the eldest daughter explained. "I would only become a countess when that position is passed on… after her death."

Not that she believed her mother would ever die. They had all been granted immortality. "But you understood the idea correctly," Bela said, a quiet note of approval threading through her words. A brief pause followed before she asked, "What is your name, little one?"

#the giant lady's not giant daughters | bela cassandra and daniela #resident evil roleplay #//sorry it's not very long my brain is empty 😭

Evangeline lowered her head, a hint of timidity in her body language for the first time. Mama was very serious about stranger danger — though Evangeline supposed she'd already broken the rules by talking to a stranger at all. Besides, this stranger was nice, certainly nicer than the weird bird lady.

"Evangeline," She kept her head down, her voice shy now. "What's yours?"

Warm. If there is any one word to describe Heisenberg's factory, it's warm. Heat radiates off the place, creating a pocket that, compared to the rest of the winter-ravaged village, feels summery.

That contrast, stark like an angel reaching out a hand, is why Evangeline is approaching the factory. It's not like she's unaware of the risks, she's heard plenty of whispers about the lords, but she's desperate. It's so cold, and she can't exactly ask villagers to take her in; they'd just hand her right back to the scary bird lady. This is the least risky option.

She crawls rather than walks, a decision made for the sake of both stealth and her weakened legs. Even the periphery of the heat is a vast improvement, but she pushes on, desperate for more.

@mycophobic-fugitive

❯❯❯❯ The looming factory creaked and groaned and roared like an angry animal, metal clanging and clanking, a suffocating heat lingering around it. The heat had even melted the snow around the place whereas everywhere else in the village was covered in it, leading to a singular patch of land that was eternally free of the frigid frost.

… The outside was warm enough, but inside would be even more so, and much safer. Outside was notably not safe, but nestled within the metal walls of the factory? Nothing could get her in there, so long as she didn't attract any attention.

Just the outside of the factory was utterly massive—an intimidating steel beast—but Evangeline had heard that underground, it was more than triple the size it was aboveground.

No villager had ever stepped foot inside the place, fearing punishment from the owner of the domain, but they did talk. They talked a lot. Not much else to do in this place, really. Enough so that she'd heard enough snippets of conversation to piece some things together.

Crawling up to the metal monster, Evangeline pushed on the large doors, but they didn't budge much more than an inch—locked. Looking up, there were padlocked chains wound tightly around the handles, preventing the doors from opening.

However, there had to be some way in. The factory looked pretty beat up and run down, so there was bound to be some sort of gap she could squeeze her way in through. And, moving around to the side of the entrance, there it was. A vent. It was situated a bit up off the ground, but there was a pile of scrap conveniently close to it she could climb her way up. The vent itself wasn't very big either, but just big enough that maybe she could get through.

It wasn't on, either.

Evangeline stared at the vent, heart pounding. This was a stupid idea — no, worse, it was a dangerous one. Even if she made it through the vent unscathed, she'd still be trapped in a building with one of the lords; and if the villagers were willing to hand her over to the bird lady, a lord wouldn't have any qualms about doing so.

Then again, someone had said that the inside of the factory was way bigger than it looked. If she could find a place to hide, maybe she wouldn't run into the lord.

Her stomach twisted as she reached for the vent cover, trying its damndest to pull her away. The cover was lighter than she expected, but still rattled as she lifted it with shaking hands. Poking her head into the vent, she was relieved to find that it appeared to be a straight shot into the factory.

"Okay," Her voice was hoarse, barely a whisper now between dehydration and lack of use. "I can do it."

Evangeline crawled into the vent, sweat beading on her forehead as she pushed forward into the heat. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Big mistake. The floor disappeared from under her, sending her plummeting god-knows how far to god-knows-where.

The fall, thankfully, wasn't too terribly far. Still pretty painful to fall from, as the vent was near the ceiling and she was now on the floor, but she hadn't exactly dropped to her death.

She'd fallen into a well-used, dimly-lit room that took a moment for her eyes to adjust to. Shelves, junk, boxes, a desk lit by a singular lamp with tools scattered around on its surface, and another desk, its contents much more interesting.

Or, well, the stack of folders on it weren't that interesting, but what was on the wall behind it was moreso.

Some kind of conspiracy board, with a large photo of Mother Miranda in the center surrounded by the Lords - bar Heisenberg himself - all labeled; "doll", "fish man", "witch", "MOTHER" (with some various rude words written on sticky notes around them as well). There were various files and photos scattered around it - mostly pictures of freaky looking monsters, of seemingly random places in the village, or of people - with red strings connecting them to one another.

None of it made any sense to her at a glance.

There was also a knife stuck in Mother Miranda's face.

But while this room wasn't too far from the factory's entrance, it was very warm in here, and relatively cozy. She could see a door at the other end of the room, leading back toward the entrance, so that could take her somewhere, perhaps. But there were also numerous places to hide and rest in here, even just from a quick look...

The second Evangeline hits the floor, all effort to be quiet went out the window. Curling into a ball, she burst into loud, ugly wailing. This wasn't good. She could hear machines running, but the sound was distant. If whoever owned this factory was nearby, she was sure to be heard. She had to stop crying, but no matter how she tried, she couldn't make the tears stop.

Hiding seemed to be her next best option, but she couldn't get up either. Still sobbing, she began to drag herself toward a stack of boxes, praying the whole way that the owner wouldn't walk in on her.

Behind the stack of boxes beneath one of the desks, dust tickled her nose and it smelled of mildew - this spot having gone untouched for a while.

She was left to cry in relative peace for a while, no sign of anyone coming to get her, no sign of this spot not being safe…

Until she heard the door creak open.

Heavy boots hit the floor as a man walked in. She couldn't see properly, but there was no doubt that it was Lord Heisenberg - he was the only one allowed in the factory. She was not meant to be here. She'd surely be in trouble if he found her, and he definitely had found her, given how he suddenly stopped in his tracks.

Surely he'd heard her.

He started to walk towards the desk…

But then just stopped in front of it, and made no further move for her. There were no hands shoving boxes out of the way and grabbing her, no face of an angry man taking up her vision, no yelling voice. He just stood there at the desk, and she heard him shuffling things on top of it around—working, seemingly without a clue she was there yet.

#Engineer guy | Karl Heisenberg #resident evil roleplay

Evangeline tried to quiet her tears, really, she did. Because even if, by some miracle, the person who had just entered the room wasn't the lord who owned this factory, that didn't mean they wouldn't be willing to sell her out. No matter how hard she tried, though, she couldn't silence her tears entirely, only muffle them into still-audible sniffles and hiccups.

She huddled into a ball, trying to make herself small enough to wriggle further into the cramped space. The further she went, the more dusty and mildew-y the space became, until eventually, it was impossible not to inhale the stuff. She tried to breathe through her mouth, but that proved to be worse than breathing through her nose. Dust tickled the back of her throat, and she barely managed to swallow a cough.

Finally, the dust and mildew won. Evangeline's nose twitched as she inhaled once, then twice. Her eyes screwed shut and she sneezed, much too loudly to go unnoticed.

//Hey y'all!! Just wanted to give a quick heads up that it'll probably be a couple days before I reply to threads. I've been preparing for and am leaving to visit my partner tomorrow!

#meanwhile... | ooc #very very very excited to see them #and their dog hehe

Are you a princess?

@/mycophobic-fugitive

@mycophobic-fugitive

Bela paused at the question, the faintest hint of surprise crossing her expression. Children didn’t often address her so directly. There was something… disarming in it. Something innocent.

"A princess?" she repeated softly, a hint of amusement in her tone.

Her gaze lowered to meet the child’s, a slight tilt of her head following. "No… not quite. A princess would imply a kingdom," she replied, her lips curving just slightly. "I am the daughter of a countess."

mycophobic-fugitive

"Countess? What's that?" Evangeline frowned, her own head tilting in the same direction. Like most kids her age, her knowledge of nobility came exclusively from movies, which meant that outside of standard royalty, she'd only ever heard of duchesses. "Is there a spot in the royal family for people who can count really good? Does that mean you have to know how to count really good to keep the title?" She realized a moment too late that she was — what was that word Mama used? — rambling. That was simply how her family operated, one person talking a mile a minute, someone else jumping in when they stopped to breathe. Everyone rambled. Not here. The villagers were so quiet, it was nice to have someone to talk to.

Bela didn't interrupt the girl. She only listened attentively, despite the rambling nature of it. There was no impatience in her expression, only a quiet stillness as she allowed the child to finish.

The blonde stepped toward a low stone wall nearby and seated herself upon it, in an attempt to soften the height difference between them. It was… unusual, but Bela would always use the opportunity to educate someone.

"A countess," she began, her tone gentle, "is a title. It doesn't come from counting… but I can understand why it might sound that way." There was an amused smile on her face.

"It is part of a system of nobility," she continued, choosing her words with care. "Different titles represent different positions. A countess is… beneath a duchess, but still holds authority over land, people, and responsibilities."

A small pause followed, allowing her explanation to settle. "It is not something one earns through a single skill," Bela added. "It is inherited, or granted." She paused, hoping she hadn’t overwhelmed the child.

"You are a curious little thing. But that’s good. Understanding begins with questions."

#the giant lady's not-giant daughters | Bela Cassandra and Daniela #resident evil roleplay

Evangeline nodded along as the woman spoke. The answer made sense, but still opened up about a million questions. Boy, was she ever glad she found someone willing to explain!

...Maybe she should ask them one at a time, though. The lady was being nice about her having questions, but Dad said she could drive even the most patient teachers crazy, and she didn't want to risk it.

"Inherited meansss..." She stretched the word out as she wracked her brain, her face scrunching in concentration. "...something you get from your parents, right? So, you'll be a countess too?" Okay, that was more than one, but still better than earlier.

Are you a princess?

@/mycophobic-fugitive

@mycophobic-fugitive

Bela paused at the question, the faintest hint of surprise crossing her expression. Children didn’t often address her so directly. There was something… disarming in it. Something innocent.

"A princess?" she repeated softly, a hint of amusement in her tone.

Her gaze lowered to meet the child’s, a slight tilt of her head following. "No… not quite. A princess would imply a kingdom," she replied, her lips curving just slightly. "I am the daughter of a countess."

#giant lady's not-so-giant daughters | bela cassandra and daniela #resident evil roleplay

"Countess? What's that?" Evangeline frowned, her own head tilting in the same direction. Like most kids her age, her knowledge of nobility came exclusively from movies, which meant that outside of standard royalty, she'd only ever heard of duchesses. "Is there a spot in the royal family for people who can count really good? Does that mean you have to know how to count really good to keep the title?"

She realized a moment too late that she was — what was that word Mama used? — rambling. That was simply how her family operated, one person talking a mile a minute, someone else jumping in when they stopped to breathe. Everyone rambled. Not here. The villagers were so quiet, it was nice to have someone to talk to.

roleplayasksandmemes

Send '🌟' and a name for my muse's honest opinion on them.

Warm. If there is any one word to describe Heisenberg's factory, it's warm. Heat radiates off the place, creating a pocket that, compared to the rest of the winter-ravaged village, feels summery.

That contrast, stark like an angel reaching out a hand, is why Evangeline is approaching the factory. It's not like she's unaware of the risks, she's heard plenty of whispers about the lords, but she's desperate. It's so cold, and she can't exactly ask villagers to take her in; they'd just hand her right back to the scary bird lady. This is the least risky option.

She crawls rather than walks, a decision made for the sake of both stealth and her weakened legs. Even the periphery of the heat is a vast improvement, but she pushes on, desperate for more.

@mycophobic-fugitive

❯❯❯❯ The looming factory creaked and groaned and roared like an angry animal, metal clanging and clanking, a suffocating heat lingering around it. The heat had even melted the snow around the place whereas everywhere else in the village was covered in it, leading to a singular patch of land that was eternally free of the frigid frost.

… The outside was warm enough, but inside would be even more so, and much safer. Outside was notably not safe, but nestled within the metal walls of the factory? Nothing could get her in there, so long as she didn't attract any attention.

Just the outside of the factory was utterly massive—an intimidating steel beast—but Evangeline had heard that underground, it was more than triple the size it was aboveground.

No villager had ever stepped foot inside the place, fearing punishment from the owner of the domain, but they did talk. They talked a lot. Not much else to do in this place, really. Enough so that she'd heard enough snippets of conversation to piece some things together.

Crawling up to the metal monster, Evangeline pushed on the large doors, but they didn't budge much more than an inch—locked. Looking up, there were padlocked chains wound tightly around the handles, preventing the doors from opening.

However, there had to be some way in. The factory looked pretty beat up and run down, so there was bound to be some sort of gap she could squeeze her way in through. And, moving around to the side of the entrance, there it was. A vent. It was situated a bit up off the ground, but there was a pile of scrap conveniently close to it she could climb her way up. The vent itself wasn't very big either, but just big enough that maybe she could get through.

It wasn't on, either.

Evangeline stared at the vent, heart pounding. This was a stupid idea — no, worse, it was a dangerous one. Even if she made it through the vent unscathed, she'd still be trapped in a building with one of the lords; and if the villagers were willing to hand her over to the bird lady, a lord wouldn't have any qualms about doing so.

Then again, someone had said that the inside of the factory was way bigger than it looked. If she could find a place to hide, maybe she wouldn't run into the lord.

Her stomach twisted as she reached for the vent cover, trying its damndest to pull her away. The cover was lighter than she expected, but still rattled as she lifted it with shaking hands. Poking her head into the vent, she was relieved to find that it appeared to be a straight shot into the factory.

"Okay," Her voice was hoarse, barely a whisper now between dehydration and lack of use. "I can do it."

Evangeline crawled into the vent, sweat beading on her forehead as she pushed forward into the heat. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Big mistake. The floor disappeared from under her, sending her plummeting god-knows how far to god-knows-where.

The fall, thankfully, wasn't too terribly far. Still pretty painful to fall from, as the vent was near the ceiling and she was now on the floor, but she hadn't exactly dropped to her death.

She'd fallen into a well-used, dimly-lit room that took a moment for her eyes to adjust to. Shelves, junk, boxes, a desk lit by a singular lamp with tools scattered around on its surface, and another desk, its contents much more interesting.

Or, well, the stack of folders on it weren't that interesting, but what was on the wall behind it was moreso.

Some kind of conspiracy board, with a large photo of Mother Miranda in the center surrounded by the Lords - bar Heisenberg himself - all labeled; "doll", "fish man", "witch", "MOTHER" (with some various rude words written on sticky notes around them as well). There were various files and photos scattered around it - mostly pictures of freaky looking monsters, of seemingly random places in the village, or of people - with red strings connecting them to one another.

None of it made any sense to her at a glance.

There was also a knife stuck in Mother Miranda's face.

But while this room wasn't too far from the factory's entrance, it was very warm in here, and relatively cozy. She could see a door at the other end of the room, leading back toward the entrance, so that could take her somewhere, perhaps. But there were also numerous places to hide and rest in here, even just from a quick look...

#Engineer guy | Karl Heisenberg #resident evil roleplay #//my poor baby is going through it #//I say as if I'm not the reason she's going through it

The second Evangeline hit the floor, all effort to be quiet went out the window. Curling into a ball, she burst into loud, ugly wailing. This wasn't good. She could hear machines running, but the sound was distant. If whoever owned this factory was nearby, she was sure to be heard. She had to stop crying, but no matter how she tried, she couldn't make the tears stop.

Hiding seemed to be her next best option, but she couldn't get up either. Still sobbing, she began to drag herself toward a stack of boxes, praying the whole way that the owner wouldn't walk in on her.

Warm. If there is any one word to describe Heisenberg's factory, it's warm. Heat radiates off the place, creating a pocket that, compared to the rest of the winter-ravaged village, feels summery.

That contrast, stark like an angel reaching out a hand, is why Evangeline is approaching the factory. It's not like she's unaware of the risks, she's heard plenty of whispers about the lords, but she's desperate. It's so cold, and she can't exactly ask villagers to take her in; they'd just hand her right back to the scary bird lady. This is the least risky option.

She crawls rather than walks, a decision made for the sake of both stealth and her weakened legs. Even the periphery of the heat is a vast improvement, but she pushes on, desperate for more.

@mycophobic-fugitive

❯❯❯❯ The looming factory creaked and groaned and roared like an angry animal, metal clanging and clanking, a suffocating heat lingering around it. The heat had even melted the snow around the place whereas everywhere else in the village was covered in it, leading to a singular patch of land that was eternally free of the frigid frost.

… The outside was warm enough, but inside would be even more so, and much safer. Outside was notably not safe, but nestled within the metal walls of the factory? Nothing could get her in there, so long as she didn't attract any attention.

Just the outside of the factory was utterly massive—an intimidating steel beast—but Evangeline had heard that underground, it was more than triple the size it was aboveground.

No villager had ever stepped foot inside the place, fearing punishment from the owner of the domain, but they did talk. They talked a lot. Not much else to do in this place, really. Enough so that she'd heard enough snippets of conversation to piece some things together.

Crawling up to the metal monster, Evangeline pushed on the large doors, but they didn't budge much more than an inch—locked. Looking up, there were padlocked chains wound tightly around the handles, preventing the doors from opening.

However, there had to be some way in. The factory looked pretty beat up and run down, so there was bound to be some sort of gap she could squeeze her way in through. And, moving around to the side of the entrance, there it was. A vent. It was situated a bit up off the ground, but there was a pile of scrap conveniently close to it she could climb her way up. The vent itself wasn't very big either, but just big enough that maybe she could get through.

It wasn't on, either.