Why did Evelynn leave Twisted Fate if he treated her so well?
// Evelynn never meant for things to get serious with Twisted Fate. It was all a horrible, horrible accident.
They danced. They went upstairs drunk. They had what she assumed would be another run-of-the-mill one night stand.
The thing about Eve is that if she’s not hungry right then, she’ll leave you be. So she slept off the booze, fully expecting this stranger to wake up in the morning covered in claw marks to see a blue girl next to him and just leave. Because they always did, and she didn’t care. She makes a note to eat them if they brag, but they almost never do.
She wakes up and he’s gone. She starts to get dressed, but then he walks back into the room with breakfast. It’s human breakfast. He’s genuinely being nice, and she’s confused. He’s entranced by her, the ones who sleep with her more than once always see her as some weird sort of fetish, but who is she to turn down free things?
So they continue to dance and fuck. At first it’s whenever they run into each other, all by chance. But then, they start seeking each other out. It becomes more frequent. He’s durable. He doesn’t complain when she bites too hard or scratches too deep. He’s a hell of a sexual partner himself. It’s no longer just having sex to feel alive, it’s having sex to enjoy it.
The sex goes from exclusively her hurting him, to him introducing her to the more tender aspects. She lets him cuddle her. It’s strange, but exhilarating. She finds out he isn’t fetishizing her. He legitimately enjoys her.
Then the sex turns into going on dates. Spending time together where they aren’t naked. It sneaks up on her. She doesn’t see it coming. She’s loving every second of this. But she knows he can’t possibly learn the truth.
He can’t know about the Shadow Isles. He can’t know about her cannibalism. He can’t know about her living in filth and misery. He can’t ever know. She won’t ever tell him. It’ll ruin this grand illusion that she’s enjoying. She can’t have that.
But he finds out anyways, all on accident. He finds her apartment and gates in unannounced, and see how she lives. Another occasion, he finds her eating in an alleyway. It clicks into place what she might be. And he decides to love her anyways. It shakes her, that he would stay with someone like her. A Murderer. a Monster.
He tries his best to integrate himself with her. He helps fix her shoddy apartment. He tries to figure out alternatives to human flesh, and she eats them for his benefit…but they both know she sneaks out to feed. He even tries to integrate his own blood into normal foods on occasion just to try and get her to eat it. She wants so badly for this to work, because this is the first time in centuries that she’s felt so normal. Her feedings are less and less, and she spends less time hunting.
But it’s killing her. Without absorbing misery from victims, she starts to wither, like a succubus starts to die when they stop having sex. She hides this from him for as long as she can. She doesn’t want it to end, but she’ll die if this continues.
If she tells him the truth, he may do something foolish, like try to find the Isles. He’ll become cursed like she is, and she can’t let him do that to himself. Worse yet, he may leave her, and she’s too selfish to ever allow that to happen.
So she does what she does best. She destroys him. She leaves him, unannounced, without a reason why after two and a half years of being together. It devastates him. She’s an experienced liar and an amazing actor, and she pulls off the facade of being a ice-hearted bitch. He truly believes she never loved him. She thinks it’s better that way. His misery at her leaving refuels her, stops her from dying.
But she can’t help herself. She comes back to him all the time. They fight, they argue, she digs into him deeply. They make up, she stays a while, they have sex again. They return to their old ways, sometimes for a week, sometimes for a few months. She stays long enough to get a taste of what she misses, of what she so desperately wants but cannot have. The second she feels the withering begin, she leaves him again. He never knows why she leaves, and he blames himself. And she feeds on his misery because his is the most intense she’s seen, and its an unending resource if she continues to hurt him. And she has done it this way for five years.
She does all the drugs, has all this sex to try and stop herself from missing him. To fill the hole so she doesn’t have to hurt him and she doesn’t have to die. It’s never enough. The effect always wears off, and she always feels just as empty.
Her worst fear is that one day, he’ll figure it all out, and never let her back in. But she can’t have that. She won’t. Because she won’t let him go.
