By the hands of the Gods, you have been plucked from your time and from your world, dropped into the box.
Only the box is a world of its own.
We are a mass crossover based on the concept of Pandora's Box. Characters from nearly any fandom can be played here. Because of the endless character possibilities, we are canon only here at Pandora. Take a peek at our rules and plot information before starting your new life in Pandora.
On her birthday, Eve will find a cake box in her kitchen, with a homemade, somewhat overly decadent cake inside of it. It features layers of red velvet cake topped with dark chocolate icing and cherries. The stacking of the cake may have turned out slightly uneven, but the end result is actually delicious. (x) There's a note attached.
I have been taking baking classes. I used to be really shit at it.
Your actual gift is outside. You can't run a private investigation company without a better way to get around Pandora. I will give you lessons, if you need them.
Happy birthday, Eve.
Parked outside of Eve's home, with a ribbon on it, is a glossy black motorcycle and helmet -- outfitted with some of the Pandora-specific modifications Villanelle's had done on her own bike (namely weather protection and temperature control). Villanelle herself is... around, if Eve looks. It's the first time she's been out of the water in weeks. Her company is no doubt going to be slightly disconcerting -- she's more emotionally vacant and less... human than usual, undoubtedly. But something in her still somehow compelled her to slink out of the sea to work on Eve's gifts.
Eve trots downstairs as she usually does, dressed in a slightly oversized t-shirt and sweatpants she only put on for Hanzo's sake. Her eyes are barely open as she makes her way to the kitchen, tunnel vision focused solely on the slightly shitty coffee machine. Until-- ...the blurry silhouette of the countertop registers as off. Different than it usually is. Eve rubs at an eye. Blinks twice. Furrows her brow in confusion.
"Hanzo?" Eve asks, glancing around, but he's... nowhere to be seen. Probably out back practicing archery, or ruminating on his sins, or whatever the fuck. Even if he were around... he shouldn't know. ...Which meant this was some kind of coincidence.
Nosy, Eve steps closer, lifts the lid. The smell of baked goods rushes out to greet her nose, and that's-- oh my god, that's a huge cake. Eve stares. An old memory flutters, and Eve can feel the echo of it in her chest. ...There's a note.
Disbelief lights on Eve's face as she reads, picks it up with shaky hands.
It is her.
Of course it is.
The past few months have been beyond weird, and the last few weeks especially barren-- Eve feels both way too busy and completely lost for what to do, and her head has felt crowded with thoughts she doesn't have any use for, then strangely empty in a way she couldn't place but-- not now. It's her birthday, and the one person in this world who knows that is... confessing her awful baking skills and getting her a gift. Eve's heart thumps.
They haven't had much of a chance to talk about it, Eve... running a company. Eve had been starting to wonder if she was too clingy, or not clingy enough, letting her slip away when she should be grasping tight. Glancing around to be sure she's alone, Eve raises the note to her nose, takes a deep inhale-- it's faint, but she swears there's a trace of perfume.
God, Hanzo was going to flip shit when he saw this cake. Eve doesn't bother tempering her grin until she's confronted with the idea of outside. An "actual" gift, as if this wasn't already... Eve swipes a cherry, pops it into her mouth. It's sweet.
Note tucked carefully under the box, Eve can't help but tread outside. She slips on some foam slippers, padding carefully out the door, like she might find a live bear waiting for her-- ...but it's... it's more shocking, somehow.
The sounds of the forest contrast with the sleek shine of the bike. It's beautiful. Eve can't shake the feeling that she should be on alert, but-- closes the door behind her, key in her pocket, locking it as she goes. Paranoia is a bitch. She steps over a few hunks of plywood that aren't quite where they should be yet, the more cosmetic bits of the house still half-renovated, and is careful not to trip over anything on her way to the beast in front of her.
Something prickles up her spine, but it's not altogether unpleasant. Eve sort of wishes she'd brought a weapon, but the key would have to do in a pinch. For now... awe swells under her ribs, swimming with something a little painful. She runs a finger over the paint, fingers carefully at the ridiculous bow, huffing an almost exasperated laugh. Very showy. Very Villanelle.
And very untouched. There's not pine needles carpeting the seat, or windblown leaves caught up in the tires-- this hasn't been here for long. Eve looks up, swivels around, eyes scanning her sightlines-- she's certain if she were to find the right path, see the right shadow, she'd know. Feel things lock into place, the way they do when she's right about this.
It never takes Villanelle long to reveal herself, after Eve's figured it out -- like she's rewarding her for her intuition. She steps out of the shadows of some nearby trees, her full focus on Eve. Her expression is largely neutral, but behind her cooler-than-usual eyes, something sparks faintly. Being close to Eve, seeing her again, makes her feel... something. A flicker of warmth that feels a little too hot in the icey cold of her chest. She doesn't ask how Eve knew she was still here, unsurprised.
"Have you ever driven one of those?" she asks, not actually looking at the bike. Rationally, she does know that it's been a little while since they last spoke. Rationally, she knows that she's Eve's girlfriend, and it's probably not okay to disappear on her. But she doesn't acknowledge it, the way she might have if it'd happened in other circumstances, somewhat lacking in the part of her that has the ability to be properly apologetic.
Eve doesn't quite jump at Villanelle's appearance, having expected it, but she does straighten up. Become more prepared, somehow, to deal with her presence, which... is still almost overwhelming, even after their closer encounters. Eve swallows. Stares back at her, unflinching. Only catalogues Villanelle's slight despondency in the back of her mind, keeping it as additional details, not huge enough to obscure the she's here, she's here, she's here.
"Never," Eve replies honestly, a soft confessional. She can't tear her gaze from Villanelle long enough to glance at the bike. "I've never even ridden on the back of one," Eve admits, exhaling the ghost of a wry laugh. Something is off, but she's... she's not complaining. It's Villanelle. Eve stays mostly still, but doesn't let her escape her sight. Presuming a future seems risky, somehow, but--
"I might have to take you up on the lessons," Eve supposes, eyes flicking up and down her form. Just to check if she's okay. Just to-- ...just to take her in.
Villanelle takes a couple of slow steps closer, almost trancelike. Her eyes, in turn, never leave Eve. As for the details Eve might notice: Villanelle doesn't have a scratch on her, but she's also... not really wearing much. Not in an outright scandalous kind of way, but in a 'surprisingly simple given that it's Villanelle' kind of way. All she has on is a plain white wrap dress, easy for taking on and off when she goes in and out of the water, and a pair of flip flops. Her hair is down. She inches a little closer, breathing Eve in.
And then she stops, still a couple of meters away, and holds out the keys to the motorcycle for Eve to take. There's something faintly daring about it, as if she's inviting Eve to do something dangerous, despite the fact that they've been very close plenty of times by now.
"I could teach you," she agrees. It'd hardly make sense to give Eve a gift she couldn't use. "You learn quickly. I remember, from the safehouse." Back when Villanelle had made good on her promise to teach Eve a few things about combat.