@wraithesca
Time settled like a cloak upon the eternal. She learned to wear it like a well worn jewel upon a graceful neck, roping death along her shoulders until it shined upon her skin like the gloss of her raven hair. She had seen the world turn and shift from tide upon tide now, seen the sun rise from east and bleed to its falling death in the west-- -come century after century. She had seen the way this earth sighed, seen how it bowed under plagues of man and the wars he raged. Eva had seen it all. Eva had lived it all. ( Eva had been alive for far too long, legends would have it said. )
And her immortality came at cost of blood and life alike. She had shed who she had once been, taken on a guise of another with immortality by her side. ( The memories never faded, grew sharper like knives carving their place in the folds of her mind until it bled and she could not ignore it-- -until it bled and sang its acknowledgement into being. ) By her side through it all, had been Esca. He was a brother to her farther than blood allowed. They had been by the other’s hand for an eon worthy of cull by the gods themselves ( the faithless said their names in vain, yet they did not burn for they were the undead-- -scorned by death itself ), he was family in every sense of the word.
He belonged to another now too, and Eva shared him willingly so. The hunter held a part of his heart that she cherished for him to have as so, though she would never flower those words on her tongue. No, Eva could not. For he was a hunter, he carved those with her form lifeless on his stake. ( But it was matters of the heart, and she mused if he had garnered Esca’s attention and love after an eon of utter solitude, who was she to claim any higher a ground for his worthiness. )
A thousand years past with his home now apart from her, and they still saw it upon themselves to meet with every passing week, or a few. Calling him from his lover’s arms was a task, though Eva had now mastered it to a skill. ( With proper blood bags to accompany as bribes, of course. )
She smelled him when he entered, soundless as the fold in the shadows he had always been-- -even far before he had turned. He smelled like him. Like honey seasoned by sunlight, like the taste of rubies and the curl of sun-rusted metal. AB negative. A rare thing, for a rarer love. ( Though she put neither revelation to tongue. )
“Late again, brother? You’d think an eon would be practice enough, but you are decidedly stuck in your ways.”