Little Red Riding Hood & the Big Bad Wolf [closed for now]

Beata was a ghost town past curfew. It was only a little past midnight, but between the bone-chilling wind and light drizzle that soaked through her clothes, she wasn't surprised. That was fine with her. Perfectly dandy. She knocked back another swallow of whiskey from her silver flask and staggered on through the field, the mud sucking at her shoes with each step. Her head was swimming, swimming, swimming, and she swayed in time with the treeline in the wind. Things were better when you couldn't think straight. Evelyn used to believe that a clear mind was her best weapon, but what had that earned her? Just anxiety and worry, self-doubt and bitter, brooding thoughts. When she drank it was like it all washed away in a warm buzz, all her fears were forgotten, and she could smile. For now, at least, until it wore off, her thoughts could be full of Jace. For now, at least, she wouldn't second guess everything so much.

Call that ignorant bliss, or the easy way out, but Evelyn didn't care anymore. For now she wanted fresh air, the feeling of rain on her skin, the smell of wet grass, and a place to heave. All outside the confines of her dorm and the prison walls of Beata Academy. The soccer field was hardly freedom, but it was nice enough, even with all the mud.

Jace, Jace, Jace... His name rang through her head like a song, and she couldn't help but smile like an idiot. When the sun was out so were people, and it felt like every pair of eyes were judging her even if they looked right past her. But in the dark she was shameless. The rain plastered her hair to her face, her button-up shirt to her body. Mud covered her school shoes and spattered her bare legs, and the wind tugged at her skirt. But it was liberating, to know that no one else could see her. Really. Not just the tenuous cover her power provided her, but a true invisibility. If people weren't sleeping, they were inside their dorms, or in town, or sneaking around campus. Here she was free. Evelyn was practically skipping.

With her face upturned to the sky, raindrops kissing her face, she didn't notice the dark figure two feet away, and with her power, he didn't notice her. And then she bumped into him.

Her eyes widened, her foot slipped, and then Evelyn was falling backwards into the mud. She wasn't sure if she screamed, or squeaked, or what. The next thing she knew she was on the ground, limbs splayed, and her head was throbbing much more than it had been two seconds ago. The cold, wet earth felt like it was spinning underneath her.

Evelyn opened her eyes to see him.

Montare stood over Evelyn, looking down at who he had just bumped into. Unlike her, he had managed to stay on his feet, lucky enough not to slip on the mud underfoot. Montare reached a hand down to Evelyn, despite the fact that his help would likely be rejected. After all, previous confrontations with the girl had gone so well. Nevertheless, maybe things won't go terribly for once...

She was seeing double, and in those short blurry moments, the boy was only a silhouette. Sheesh, what luck... what kind of weirdo other than her would walk out in a place like this anyways? When he offered his hand, her first instinct was to take it. It was only when her hand was fully clasped in his did she realize who she was looking at, as his face came into focus. Still holding his hand, Evelyn jerked back her arm back, eyes widening. Him? Of all people? Out here?!

God must really have had it out for her.

Unfortunately, Montare wasn't so lucky as to avoid slipping when Evelyn retracted her arm. He fell forward onto her, and the both of them were narrowly spared something truly horrible. Due to Montare being four inches taller, his head wound up past Evelyn's. Blushing, he tried to roll off of her, not carrying if he ended up in a bunch of mud.

Evelyn had drawn a lot of short straws in life. Sometimes, when she was sober for too long, she felt things couldn't get anything worse.

The moment she saw Montare falling down on top of her, she knew that things could get so much more worse than she could imagine.

She struggled underneath him for a moment, biting back a curse, and sighed with relief when he'd finally rolled off her. The Winter tried to sit up once, twice, three times, before flopping back into the mud in defeat. I hate everything. Evelyn turned her head to look at him, her expression caught somewhere between 'disgusted' and 'apologetic'. Should she apologize for bumping into him and pulling him down into the mud, or should she try to stick a knife in his ribs, like she did last time?

Her head was too dizzy to try and figure it out, so she said nothing. It was probably better off that way.

Montare sat up before looking back at Evelyn. "Sorry, I guess..." he said, unsure if he should even be apologizing. He was rewarded for offering help by Evelyn pulling him down on top of herself, and had to roll off of her into the mud. Montare got to his feet, brushing off what mud he could from his back. He then foolishly decided to extend an arm to Evelyn again, even though it was unlikely to have a much better result than the first time. Still, he wanted to try to do something to show he wasn't all that bad.

Yeah. It was his fault for standing in her way, or something... Evelyn blinked her unfocused eyes, staring down his outstretched hand. She weighed in her mind if it was better to keep laying in the mud or to touch his hand again. Rolling onto her stomach, she decided she preferred the ground.

Evelyn rolled onto her stomach, pushing herself onto her hands and knees... only to slip again, her hands sliding out underneath her so she fell straight onto her face. She might've laughed if she didn't want to cry. There was mud in her hair, on her face and hands and legs, all over her clothes. I need a drink.

The silver flask was lying a foot away, half-buried in the mud. She eyed it from the ground, not even trying to move.

Montare let out a soft sigh when Evelyn decided to get more mud on herself rather than accept his help. He was tempted to offer his help once again when she failed to get to her feet, but Montare decided against it.

He was about to walk away when he noticed the flask in the mud. Montare bent over to pick it up, wiping the mud from it and looking it over. He quickly put together what must be inside of the flask, and contemplated reporting Evelyn. Another look at the poor girl made him decide otherwise, and he instead extended his arm towards her to give it to her. "Here."