#also mal does something next chapter that is </3 but we get soft malvie first so yay???

[haleruby]

Slipping Through Your Fingers (1)

Characters/Pairings: established Mal/Evie, eventual Mal/Evie/Reader (Quim) Mal, Evie, really allll the characters bc it’s my longest Descendants insert. This part is Evie, you, Ben, and an OC who you will probs want to stab.

Summary: Evie’s meeting with Ben is interrupted by an new and unexpected source, but it feels like she is missing something...?

Word Count: 3.7k

Notes: I am using a sideblog that is empty and not tagging bc this is only for your eyes, so no need to reblog/like, etc.

I think I wrote this in July 2019, so yes, older and I tried to polish. If it’s too rough/not tenable, let me know (it’s okay!) and I’ll...do something else??? Probs the TW one.

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"I never realized it was such a fight when the barges delivered goods..." There is so much Ben, the newly minted King of Auradon, did not know about the life imposed by his father and other heroes on those who live on the Isle of the Lost. Punishment for the wrongs the villains committed resulted in exile to an island just off the coast. The need for vigilance was the guise cast over being within easy viewing distance. A small, crumbling decrepit hunk of rock encased by a magical barrier where everyone fights for the scraps they were given and tries to make a life for themselves....It is really all about survival; there is not much living. The imprisonment is just as hard on the villains as their children, probably harder because the tenure of confinement warped some of those whose mental states were already in a precarious place. All of this is left unsaid, because the truth needs to be doled out a bit at a time. Painted lips curve into a charming smile of understanding, but not one of acceptance. "That is why you have me," Evie says it lightly to dispel some of the dreary atmosphere that infiltrated the office when her report on the supply lines to the Isle was given. Being an advisor to the King of Auradon is not something she would have ever imagined herself doing, and yet here she is. "I promise to look into what you said, Evie" There is an earnest quality to his voice that allows her to somewhat believe him, though she sees the stack of papers and missives on his desk and knows of his stacked schedule. Trying to get time to meet up with Ben is difficult, but relations with the Isle need to be improved. Most of the citizens do not know how bad it really is...Of course, some likely think the harsh environment is deserved by the parents and their children who would grow up to be just as evil as them. Disproving that sentiment occurred when four from the Isle where invited over by Ben, and through a series of events, ended up choosing good, though she still gets the occasional glance due to her mother being the Evil Queen. "I understand. Thank you for-" A short rapping sounds before the oak double doors are all but thrown open with a rush of air that seems unnatural. Where is Jane? Evie did not even get past the desk set up outside the office until the part time personal assistant and student allowed her to enter. "Ah, young King Benjamin~" The voice that intoned the title dryly seems to carry on the air causing it to waft around the two occupants like a two tight silken shawl; it's smooth, and inviting but there is a condescending edge. A lean man swaggers in with two trailing behind him. His skin is alabaster, edging on an unhealthy translucency that is only highlighted by the deep burgundy and black of his robes that reinforce the lack of color to his complexion. There is a skeletal quality to his thin lips, fine nose and gaunt hallows of his cheeks that is even more unsettling when a hallow, too wide smile is given. However, what he wears and how he carries himself does not allude to one who is poor or in want of food. Is he sick or purposefully looks this way?  Silver hair is cut short and shines ever so slightly with no indication as to what his original hair color used to be. "Sir Alistair," Ben greets him with a tense smile. Jane gives an apologetic look, though she is still too afraid to question or to say something about him interrupting, even if his scheduled time was later on. There is something off about him that speaks to a power or ability she would not want to contend with that is reinforced by his expensive clothes and the badge on his tunic. Looking at the clipboard occurs to busy herself, but a nod from Ben releases her from standing there awkwardly, so she hurriedly leaves. Who is that?

Well, she does not know the man either, but the other girl who remains behind him took one glance at her and is now staring at the hardwood floors like there are strings of text printed on the boards. There is no attempt to even pretend to be engaged in surroundings.  Evie is no stranger to admiration, infatuation, or jealously given her beauty, but that look was something new. Learning how to illicit a certain reaction from others and to be alluring in such a way that translated to influence was taught to her by her mother, since outright intimidation would be more of Mal or Jay's thing. Inviting some in for favors and repelling others was how she operated on the Isle, not instilling fear or uneasiness, though she does not actively do that on Auradon now... So, why did that expression from the stranger hurt? There was a flicker of something, before neutrality snapped into place... An honest fear caused eyes to avert so quickly, it would be unsurprising if she hurt her neck. The black of her cloak, shirt, and pants does nothing to help the projected severity. Tension causes her stature to appear taut, though her shoulders are back with a straightened spine and composed bearing that would only receive minimal critiquing from even Evie's Queen of a mother. Is she royalty...? "My apologies for barging in on a meeting with someone,-" Ice blue eyes settle on the blue haired girl that seems to be observing his ward critically, "-who likely waited for the opportunity to speak with her King for ages. But this is of the utmost importance, I assure you" Evie refocuses at being addressed, but allows Ben to answer, since she was being talked of not at. "Oh, yeah, yes-" He corrects himself trying to be as refined as possible in this man's presence, "Evie, thank you for your report. We can talk again later, please?" "A relatable tact to be more beloved by the common folk. Interesting," Alistair observes mockingly at the non-traditional dismissal. The comment is only ignored because of the silent pleading in hazel eyes to not rise to take the bait, since the legitimacy of her royalty is a point of contention for some Auradonians. Yes, her mother is the Evil Queen, but she is still a queen. "We can talk later. Have a good day," Evie agrees. The relief on Ben's face somewhat soothes the need to retort; she won't make the impromptu meeting harder for him. "Pet?" The word holds a saccharine sweetness that causes unease to well up in Evie's stomach that increases when the brunette drags her gaze away from the floor boards, subtly squaring her shoulders to look at the one who called her that, but he does not even glance her way. "Leave us now." The directive is clipped, further contrasting how the initial tone lacked any real kindness. Hesitation seems to skate across her features, causing her jaw to tick for a second before it is smoothed away, or really tucked away and buried. "As you say, my lord," she automatically replies. A partial bow at the waist is given, even if it seems his attention is anywhere else but her likely out of ingrained instinct, before long strides are made to clear the room; they almost seem hurried. That is just wrong...Evie realizes she is staring, and should be leaving too when Ben clears his throat quietly giving her a small smile.

"I may send you an update about the lines later, so you can help prioritize." Is Ben trying to make her feel more comfortable at the odd display with the 'Lord' or is he in royal fix-it mode? "I look forward to it," Evie assures. Her heels make minimal clacks against the polished hardwoods. The much louder sound is the unlatching of the heavy double doors that Jane usually has to put her weight into to heave open one side when bringing guests into the office. That dramatic entrance by this 'Sir' Alistair may speak to magic... Nettling Jane for more information will not be possible with how she seems preoccupied. The desk is set up at one end of the hallway as a gate keeper post between the small receiving room and the King’s office. Mid-morning light pours in through the arched windows, making the blot of black that is angled to peer out of one appear further out of place in the hall that has blue and gold wallpaper, hanging mini chandeliers, and fancy furniture. She can't really blame Jane for the overt glances she is sneaking at the figure, though they seem more out of wariness than curiosity. They would likely not be overhead due to the distance, but it would still be a risk. Besides, the more mousey, shy personal assistant would be nervous talking about a royal in general, so doing so while another person is present is a 'no'...

There is always trying the source. A farewell is given to Jane by Evie; however, following the navy blue carpet runway that leads to the exit is not the plan. "Hello," she greets in advance, given the earlier expression. Evie takes care to stay a respectable distance away, though she does come to occupy the other side of the deep set window sill to face the other girl. A charming, attentive smile is already in place in hopes of easing this interaction. Showing interest in others usually gets them on your side. Observing the impeccably kept grounds is not what is really being done; there is too much intensity. Angling towards the window is a means of escape from interaction as opposed to finding something interesting beyond the glass of the window; it is obvious with how her eyes immediately flicked away from the panes at Evie's approach. The stranger's expression is still schooled to be largely neutral. Cold, distant, untouchable. Her eyes are the giveaway; it almost reminds Evie of Mal. They churn with emotion that is even hard for someone who prides herself on being able to read others to place with certainty. Fear? Guilt? Self-loathing? Shame? There is something dark lingering in those depths, but not malicious more so melancholic in a way that makes that unease twist tighter. Eye contact is fleeting; there is no inspection or appraisal, just a calm disregard after the initial glance that seemed to last for much too long. Evie always hated being ignored. Her mother always encouraged her to cultivate her beauty since it is the only trait that would get her anywhere in life, more specifically get her a prince. Failing to attract and hold attention bothered her as a young teen, but she has learned better now and become more self-confident. She is more than her looks. The lack of acknowledgement does not seem to come from a place of arrogance like Alistair or meanness like some of her classmates, but one that seems neutral, like being unsure if someone just really spoke to you or to someone else and being unsure if you should engage. The continued silence should be uncomfortable or stifling, instead a spark of determination is ignited. "My name is Evie," she tries again. Her voice is still kept light, though it seems like she is speaking to herself. "You seem about my age, but I would remember if you were a student here. I would guess you are just visiting? Though you could be local too, or just starting..." She can tell the other girl is listening, even if her attention seems pinned to the window. "I came over from the Isle-" Special attention is given to any small changes that would imply feeling one way or another about this piece of information, but none is found, "-with my friends a while ago, which you probably heard about. Getting used to Auradon and its culture was not easy, but I know my way around the school now, if you need a guide or some tips." Evie continues not at all deterred by the impassivity, because the brunette is still sheeted towards her even if there is no eye contact, so she just says whatever comes to mind. Patience may be needed. "You may be visiting, but I have also learned some about the city too. Mainly the best shops to source fabrics, dyes, and chemicals for my designs. Dressmaking is what I tend to do with the royals here with all their parties, galas, and balls, but other pieces are also possible. My favorite subject is chemistry; it can lend itself to fashion. I think-" The double doors again open with an abrupt snap, but less wind funnels into the hallway. Evie spots the way the brunette tenses, sees the displeasure that grounds into her shoulders as they square, and watches as that slated neutrality gains a layer of ice that somehow makes her seem further unreachable. The sight is upsetting to her, but why....? "Oh, you have made a new friend..." He comments with a slight sneer that exposes too white teeth for a second. Alistair takes his time in arriving upon the two to reinforce they are awaiting his arrival and it is not him coming to them. His final step places him well within both girl's personal space. "I must apologize in advance, Miss-?" "Evie," she supplies with forced politeness. "Ah, yes, Miss Evie." The name is said slowly, like he is swilling a fine wine around his palate as the syllables are stretched out and tested. "Daughter of the Evil Queen, and one of the four chosen children-" Ice blue eyes dance with mirth because the word choice was meant to offend, "-plucked from that wretched place. Though Auradon surpasses the Isle in many regards, you would do better finding a conversation partner in a rotten stump than my pet here," he advises with a tittering laugh at his own joke that sounds slightly unhinged. A ring encrusted hand is placed on his ward's shoulder in a gesture that should normally register as friendly, but lacks any warmth and is more a display of possession. "Being a conversationalist is not one of her talents. Wouldn't you agree?" He poses the question with a tip of the head to the subject of the comment. The silence that meets this serves as an intentional reply.

A satisfied smirk to crawls across his features, stretching the skin too tightly across the bone. Evie uses her training to remain composed to not allow the disgust to rise to the surface, though that uneasiness settles more thickly as if chains are wrapping around her insides and weighing her down at the sight of him nonchalantly touching the brunette like a possession. She straightens up minutely to project poise. "Auradon is an improvement in some ways. I don't think ownership of another person was allowed on the Isle," she says it diplomatically to lessen the barb nestled within her words. "I still have much to learn about the cultural differences." Ice blue eyes appear flintier like a glacier was cracked and the chipped pieces were inserted into the sockets of a skeleton; he is angry. "Arrangements and alliances are not that different..." Two sets of eyes train on the one who finally spoke up. Surprise almost causes Evie's lips to part a touch at how knowingly those two types of situations were said. The Isle was literally a fight to survive, so villains and their children would forge alliances, go to war, betray, and so forth. An arrangement is more of an understanding and is open ended and can be based on favors, respect, or whatever else. Mal and Jay agreed to an arrangement due to recognizing that each had a skill set the other admired. Carlos fell into Jay's due to his genius intellect and horrid home life situation that would soften most people's hearts, not that any of them had a great home life with glory day obsessed villains raising them. She eventually made a friendship with Carlos because they both liked school with her favoring sciences and knowing how to brew potions/remedies, while Carlos enjoyed tinkering with mechanics. Extending protection to her due to that had to go through Jay and then Mal, but eventually the four of them became bonded in more than just a patchwork of arrangements based on their skills and unique strengths. They are her best friends.... She loves them. But how does this girl know about what happens on the Isle...? "She speaks!" Alistair half exclaims. The anger is momentarily relinquished at the fact his charge actual said something when she was not being addressed directly by him, especially since it was not monosyllabic. That will be remediated later on. "My, my Miss Evie you have quiet the effect." While the words should constitute a compliment derision seeps into his tone as he looks between the two as if trying to puzzle something out. "But you are sadly mistaken; there is choice that extends beyond any of the crude-" His lips twist in disgust, "- back alley propositions of the Isle. I doubt there is any place she would rather be, isn't that correct?" He asks it leadingly. "Of course, my lord" There was no thought to the answer, because they all know there could only be one response.  But Evie can see that indecipherable emotion again lurking as (Y/E/C) eyes turn to meet the one leering at her. Evie decides right then that she hates this man. "I apologize then." Saying this takes more effort that she would anticipate; honeyed or veiled words would come easier than a feigned apology that alludes to her being wrong. But this is necessary... "I would love to learn more from an actual 'Sir' of the realm. My designs have been worn by royalty. I could exchange making a fine robe or coat for a moment of your valuable time?"

"I am afraid I have meetings to attend, and would not have time for the prerequisite measuring, re-measuring, and consults..." Alistair can tell there is more to the request, but cannot determine the angle just yet. Perhaps, a lesson should be taught to the pair of them, one that humiliates his charge, while also making this bold Evie uncomfortable. It would help both learn their respective places beneath him. "But we may be able to agree on a different piece?" Migrating his hand from a tense shoulder to trail down his charge's side, before seizing her hand to present it to the blue haired girl occurs with little resistance as if manipulating a rag doll. "What about her?" Evie hesitates. "...My lord?" The neutrality is still there but the slightest furrows of discomfort creases her brows, prompting Evie to regret the impulse to suggest this rather than seeking out the other girl in a different way. However, she already went this route and has to stick with it. Getting snatches of time to speak more with her was the goal in offering to design a commission free garment for Alistair, so this secures that, but at what cost? "What?" He parrots back in a similar tone, though he stage whispers to mock her quiet voice. "You do not wish to play model with a real designer, pet? It would please me greatly." Pretending she has a choice is more cruel than clarifying the why, since she has always been better with absolutes and routines that help her numb herself to it all; this will be something fresh and it is deserved. "You do want that, yes?" A curt nod is given. "Splendid!" A slow clap is given at the agreement. "Miss Evie will have her way with you-" He purposefully uses the wording with the double meaning to see if he can glean any more of the intent from them, but there is no observable difference, "-in regards to the design. I shall detail specifics later, once I see the sketches, and in return any questions you have may be submitted to me and I will pen an answer for you," he decides. "Do you have a schedule or...?" "I have classes this afternoon, but after those I am free until the start of next week." Today is Friday, so aside from a history course and some time spent in the lab, she has time to herself. "Very well." There is a pause of consideration as to how he wants this to play out. "I shall turn her over to you this evening for the preliminary work, and subsequent appointments can be made at your discretion-" A business card on thick cream colored cardstock is pulled from a pocket and handed over, "-simply send a missive and it will be arranged. Please do not think I will short you Miss Evie. Any price you set for materials is fine. I require the very best," he informs proudly. Lowering their joined arms lacks any fluidity, it is a mechanical movement, but one that is not met with flinching or outright tension, so the admonishment of his ward will not be too great. "Until we meet again."  "...Goodbye,” Evie mimics the farewell on autopilot. How he can speak of the brunette like she is not there, or an object to be passed off makes her skin crawl... Alistair leads the walk away, still joining their hands in a way that makes the innocent gesture look wrong. There is no ease; it may as well be a leash with how there is no slack given and with how the brunette trails behind him, practically pulled along except she keeps pace just enough for the action not too look forced to the untrained eye. Evie watches them go, more aptly watches her go, partially wishing for a glance or  shared look like in a novel or movie, but nothing comes. Maybe it was a mistake to try and learn more. Is she going to regret making this offer...?

#for quim who is awesome and nice! #...i realized some of the themes are intense so may need to warn u #also mal does something next chapter that is </3 but we get soft malvie first so yay???