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.
Never in his life had Iris realized just how much of a good thing it was that he was out as often as he was, especially in regards to the night before. Anybody else would've said there were better things. Anybody else would've said he was reckless, too adventurous for his own good, was gonna get himself into trouble, and he had gotten himself into trouble. It was half the reason he'd first broken into the house he now lived in, complete with a broken bedroom lock and a terrifying blonde looming over him with a knife. All things he pretended didn't happen, sometimes because it was embarrassing, sometimes because his mind twisted the visuals. Sometimes because he saw somebody else standing over him.
As far as Iris could tell, Villanelle didn't have a lot of friends. She hadn't been here in Cascade Bay much longer than he had and Iris hadn't really asked a lot of questions about it. People didn't really tend to come over, and with Ash having vanished alarmingly without a trace, the house was as quiet as a house occupied by an eager teenage inventor and his sarcastic big sister if he'd ever had one could possibly be, which was really not even a little bit quiet at all.
Whatever. It was the thought that counted. Three had become two, which was exactly why he was pretty shamelessly knocking his knuckles against the bathroom door less than patiently, one hand balancing a bowl of cereal, spoon shoved in his mouth as he tried to form words around it. "Villanelle, you've been in there foreeeeever! Hellooooo!"
The sudden pounding on the door scared the shit out of Eve, to put it kindly.
She jumped ten feet in the air and swallowed a shriek, her heart pounding in her chest. What the fuck. What the fuck. Instinctively, Eve's eyes darted around the room for a window-- there had to be one, right? Ah. There it was. ...On the second floor of the house. With... with a pretty steep drop, it looked like.
Someone outside started shouting, and Eve nearly slipped from where she was climbing on the toilet seat. Her fingers gripped the sill in terror, and she shot a wide-eyed look at the door. Villanelle?
Eve was just trying to enjoy her fucking morning. She'd woken up in the arms of a woman she loves (loves! mutually!) just when the sky was turning a calm shade of blue, and had rolled over to get herself dressed; maroon shorts, maroon tank. maroon robe. It was hard to want to remove them, just yet, while she was still basking in the luxury of her situation.
...Her situation which involved being in Villanelle's new house. A house Eve hadn't spent much time in, yet, and 90 percent of the time she had spent here was spent in... uh. Two very specific parts of it.
All this to say, Eve was excited to explore.
A bathroom was a perfect opportunity-- there was a trove of insight, personal items and tiny remnants of a morning routine, while also being somewhere no one would dare question your elongated stay. It had a lock on the door. It should have been an excellent place for some respite, some recollection, and maybe a little bit of fixing her hair in the mirror to be the exact right level of messy.
Apparently, someone in this house had not gotten the 'don't bother people in the loo' memo.
And that was sort of ruining Eve’s plans. She took a second to collect herself.
Okay. The window was a bust. As breezy as this robe was, she wasn’t about to Mary Poppins her way down two stories.
Hiding in the shower? No. Anyone smart enough to live with Villanelle successfully was going to notice something like that.
There… There was no way out.
Eve pulled her robe tighter around herself, covering the matching camisole and sleep shorts as if those, too, were transgressions. She stared down the doorknob. Took a step towards it. Jerked back-- as an afterthought, Eve armed herself with a hair dryer, held carefully behind her back. That was heavy enough, right? It could… it could at least catch someone off guard. Tentative, as if the handle might burn, Eve reached out. Stepped close, but not too close, in case-- in case this person tried to… she didn’t fucking know, bust in, or something.
“Hello?” Eve’s voice wavered, the door creaking as she peered through to the other side. She tried to sound authoritative, like she didn’t just spend five minutes considering crawling out the window. “She’s not-- she’s not in here,” Eve clarified, and then looked a little horrified that she’d clarified at all. Eve forced an awkward laugh. “Ob-- obviously,” she managed, casting her eyes to the side as if to check for her. ...She wasn’t. That was good. Not that Eve wouldn’t have noticed, but this-- this was all a situation she wasn’t used to dealing with. The joke(?) fell flat, and Eve cleared her throat.
“Can I, um. Can I help you?” The person didn’t look… all that old, and it brought some faint confusion to Eve’s features. This must be one of the teenage boys Villanelle had been talking about. Gaining a little confidence, Eve opened the door more fully, brushed a stray curl out of her eye. She didn’t look nearly as disheveled as she had this morning, having spent half her time snooping and half her time making herself look as good as possible before she’d have to make her leave. Still, Eve wore no makeup, had a faint glow to her cheeks, and… had a somewhat large bandaged area where her neck sloped to meet her shoulder. Hickies dot the skin from her chest up to her jaw like stars. It… isn’t how Eve would prefer to have introduced herself, but she seems to have forgotten about her own appearance in her curiosity about the newcomer, and the long robe is thankfully pulled tight enough to make her decent. Technically. Eve peered at the-- teen?-- with wary interest.
At first, there's silence, and Iris pulls a face. What was she doing in there? What was with girls and bathrooms? Granted, he hadn't ever noticed her take this long in there. Or maybe she had and he hadn't been paying attention. They did tend to stay out of each other's way in the morning since neither one of them could be considered a morning person. Iris was, in fact, a night owl, and while once upon a time, that had meant staying in and drawing up new blueprints for ideas he desperately needed to get out of that head of his and onto paper, Pandora had presented to him a new opportunity entirely. Exploration. So he was out into hours of the night that somebody like Lillium would probably have scoffed at. Villanelle didn't, but she had her own life and her own things to do in the middle of the night. And besides, he was an adult. He could do whatever he wanted to do.
That was how being an adult worked, right? Something like that?
Eventually, there's finally an answer, although Iris realizes right away that something is amiss. That isn't the voice of Villanelle and as the door creaks and cracks open just enough, Iris can tell that isn't the face of Villanelle either. Iris pulled another face, this time scrunchier than the last. "Who are you?" She was awkward and a little panicky and the reasons why were, for the moment, going straight over the boy's head. After all, though eighteen years old, his experience in ... areas ... was minimal at best.
And yet, the more he looks, well ... he isn't stupid. The bandage is concerning, but the hickies are straight up telling. Iris' eyes go wide as his gaze drifts back to her face. "Uh ... uhhhh, I live here ..." he said a bit dumbly, but to be fair, they were both handling this in a way that was absolutely and completely beyond awkward. Hadn't he already suggested that he needed the bathroom and, therefore, she could probably help him by ... getting out of the bathroom?
They were a bundle of discomfort with no end in sight.
Who was she? Eve's own expression pinched in response, not sure how to answer that question when it was asked so... confrontationally. Her awkwardness started to fall to the side the more the boy talked, replaced by a defensive air that only stiffened when his eyes traveled her neck. Eve's eyes went wide, and she slapped a hand over the area, tugging the robe tight around herself. Like, really tight. Eve was bundled up to the chin, shoulders up around her ears.
Oh, God, now he sounded uncomfortable. Eve didn't know how to deal with uncomfortable teenagers. She usually just ignored their problems until they went away or got bad enough that the kid found someone else to help them. ...Unless it was romantic advice, or 'I need to get my ass kicked at bridge,' in which case she could usually handle it. This was not either of those situations.
"You live here," Eve parroted, equally dumbly. Right. Duh. Of course. She was still using the door as a kind of shield, a barrier that kept her safe from this conversation. ...A door he'd probably knocked on for a reason. Eve straightened up suddenly, shuffling to edge her way out of the door as far from him as she could with a faintly apologetic expression. "I-- Eve," Eve remembered to introduce, one hand flying to her chest as if to indicate who she was. "Eve... Polastri, I... know Villanelle." ...She didn't really want to shake his hand, but her eyes dropped to them anyway, not... entirely sure how to proceed here. Does she wait outside the door? ...Fucking run as far as she can? Either seemed like a terrible option.