In a timeless hellscape of nothing but endless cycles of death and fear one would never imagine themselves having fascination as their dominating feeling. Anger, hopelessness, regret, maybe even boredom. Anything else except for fascination. Yet here Evan MacMillan was, enraptured with the day to day life of the sheep and wolves that lived there.
Since his spiriting away by the voices of an unknown entity, the prey he had to catch have been familiar. Wearing all too familiar garb, with an all too familiar language, and an all too familiar set of morals in an all too familiar setting. He found nothing too out of the ordinary about the people he's seen. He can almost imagine that they were kindred souls in some way. Someone from his past that now has to suffer from the same hell he has to. Maybe a face he should have remembered from his boyhood or a miner he should’ve paid more mind to. Still he thought his fate would be shared with those same souls of his time, until his old prey suddenly disappeared and was replaced by the most odd beings he's ever had the pleasure of seeing.
In a way, Evan almost felt like he was being mocked by the creature he's forced to obey. The sheer look of the new cattle felt like a smack to his hidden face. The men wearing clothing that he's never seen before, the women disrespecting themselves by wearing tight and unknown clothing unbecoming for the women of his time. Not to mention the new world he's been thrown into, so unfamiliar to his now homely mines, filled to the brim with machinery he couldn't even begin to process what its uses would be. Yet with the new scenery and new victims, the game was still the same. The hunt was all too familiar for Evan’s experienced hands.
This was only the beginning of a new era. One by one Evan found himself meeting new people, sheep and wolf alike. The entity, as he now calls it, has become more lax overtime with these new additions. Allowing somewhat limited roaming, conversing and lollygagging as Evan would put it, so long as it still gets fed. Being as he was one of the first and most experienced killers he thought it was only fitting to be considered the leader of the killers, showing them the ropes and dos and don'ts of the realm. He found it quite ironic that even in hell, after everything he's done, he still found himself presiding over others in a way that he’s used to.
The wraith, or Philip as he now calls him, has become somewhat of a friend over time. Evan would have never found himself being considered a friend or an equal of a black man and yet here he was conversing like they're old mates who've rekindled their friendship after a long trip apart. He thought the man weak previously. With his somewhat slim frame, the way he sauntered about sulking and his refusal to kill initially made him sneer in disgust, but as he later found out he's no man to be trifled with. They’ve actually fought quite a bit initially. Philip not taking too kindly with the titles and tone used against him, and after a couple of conversations with him, it has come to his attention that he’s “out of touch” as Philip liked to put it. His home being the one that Evan initially visited when he first encountered the new sheep, it wasn’t hard to guess that they were all from different time periods. Times have changed drastically since Evan has found himself trapped within this dark realm, yet fascination is the only thing that overtakes him with the realization. Evan found a particular fascination with the young negress he hunts within trials.
He never got her name. Hard too when the cattle are too petrified to converse even amongst themselves. Yet this one stuck out to him. Maybe because she was so familiar yet different from the things he’s seen. Overtime Evan has learned to get used to the strange dress of the survivors. Still wavering a bit at the females choice of dress, the modest dressings of the girl made Evan feel more at ease with the shift. Even with his being able to view her shapely figure through the form fitting clothes.
The way she always put herself on the line for others was also an attractive feature. Her almost motherly care as she healed the wounded and guarded the vulnerable was something that even Evan’s own mother couldn’t do. He sometimes found her looking back at even himself worryingly after he managed to step into his own trap. Worrying more for her pursuer than herself was an attractive feature indeed.
Maybe it was the taboo-ness of it all. Not only was he a predator and she prey, but in his time, the difference in color was something unheard of. He has often found himself somewhat haunted by the thought of what his father may think or say if he were to find out about his attractions to the darkskin girl. The shame he would bring to himself and the estate for trying to make a slave a wife. Even still Evan couldn’t help himself but to fantasize about a possible coupling between him and the girl.
He finally got the chance to speak to her after his last trial. He was on a mission, making swift work of her teammates in the large weeping forest. He somewhat plotted and daydreamed about their first real meeting, but in the heat of the moment, things didn’t exactly go as planned. Cornering her in a damp musty basement was probably not the best way to court a woman, but Evan was getting a bit desperate and he’ll take what he could get. Evan was a man of action, and sitting around daydreaming of what could be was certainly not his cup of tea. Nothing would come in the way of a MacMillan, not the entity, not any other survivors, and not even the obvious trembling of the woman he’s trying to woo.
Even still, their proximity and size difference was quite titillating to him. The obvious distress and fear that radiated off her gave him a power trip of sorts. He stomped even closer to her, stopping at arms length away. The ebony girl flinching with every powerful step. The body heat from her being so close was something that made her fear a backburner in his mind. He would take this situation as a win.
“You’re a very respectable woman. One of the best I’ve ever seen. Truly one of a kind.”, He praised and the girl visibly recoiled at the sound of his deep gruff voice. Unused to her pursuers doing more than just slashing he presumed.
“You have won my affections, my dear girl, and I haven’t even gotten your name yet.”, A look of confusion blossomed across her pretty face. The situation seemed too much to handle for the small woman, but Evan would never be satisfied if he at the very least didn’t get a name.
“Please, young negress, at the very least please grace me with your name.”, The look of confusion quickly turned into shock and then, to Evan’s surprise, anger.
“Don’t EVER call me that again!”, she yelled both to Evan’s surprise and her own seeing as she faltered a bit after her outburst voice getting softer, “I’ll give you my name if only so that you’ll never call me that word ever again. It’s Claudette... Claudette Morel.”, she trailed off looking away so as to not evok retaliation from him at her obvious defiance.
Claudette. He finally had a name to put next to a face. Her voice was slightly accented with a language Evan vaguely recognized, making her feel even more exotic in his eyes. The rush of emotions that went through Evan was honestly intoxicating. Not only knowing his object of affections name, but also the new wave of respect that came with her outburst. A woman who knew her place, yet stuck up for herself whenever necessary was a must in Evan’s book. Seeing the girl as more than a weak caretaker solidified her place in his heart.
Finally coming down from his high, he looked down at Claudette. Her discomfort with the situation palpable. Seeing as Evan hasn’t said anything since her outburst and her still being trapped alone with him probably scared her. Unsure if he was angry at her for shouting or not. Evan wanted to do so much more in that situation. A name being only the tip of the iceberg for what all he wanted to do, but Evan knew this whole fiasco had shaken Claudette up enough. He’ll have this win for now and wait for the next later. He grinned, hidden under the mask.
“You’ve got a lot of spunk for such a small girl, talking back to me like that, but I like that.” Slowly he reached down to pick Claudette up. Expectedly she jumped and struggled; Evan chose to ignore it. She’ll learn in due time. His arm tightened greedily over her slim waist.
“I’ll let you go for now. Struggle, and I’ll kill you.”, instantly the girl became limp in his arms. He took the short trek back up the creaking stairs and out of the shack, looking for the hatch. All her survivor friends were long dead, they never stood a chance when Evan truly wanted them gone. Their walk was filled with silence between. Only the sound of never ending rain accompanied them. He didn’t expect her to speak, but the silence wasn’t exactly pleasing to him either. Evan already knew where the hatch was, having seen it when he was chasing that cocky brawny cur, but chose to take a longer path just to remember the feel of her in his arm.
When he finally reached the howling dark abyss, he reluctantly put her down next to it and just stared after her. She quickly shuffled to the hatch and after a wary glance back at him, she jumped in without a word. Gone too soon in Evan’s opinion, but that didn’t matter now. He could lament on the situation later. Now he would go on daydreaming and fantasizing once again about the woman. The cycle will continue once again with him getting tired of daydreaming, pining from afar, and eventually leaping to action as he’s done now. He wouldn't stop until he's fully satisfied, and nothing stands in the way of a MacMillan getting what he wants.
From just this one small encounter his fascination grew immensely.