9863/Rooftops of Lost Heaven

Rooftops of Lost Heaven
Date of Scene:	01 November 2019
Location:	Lost Heaven, Empire Bay (TBD)
Synopsis:	Black Cat meets the demon Noralzeen, and seeks Lucifer out about it.
Cast of Characters:	Lucifer, Black Cat

---

Lucifer has posed:
Sometimes there's a weird feeling, this evening. A sense of something not entirely being 'right'. But there's nothing around for Black Cat to actually catch. Yet there's that feeling, that something or someone is there nearby. Perhaps there was a bit of a sound, or a flicker of movement: but on Halloween, that's hardly a surprise. All kinds of people are all over the place, many of them dressed very strangely.

Still. There's something there, while the Black Cat makes her way over the rooftops.

There! That was definitely something, off to the left. Is she being followed?

Black Cat has posed:
There is a freedom to running the rooftops of the city's broad expanse -- such a heart-pounding delight in swinging through off the strands of grappling line from her wristlets of the advanced catsuit clinging to her body and then free-flying - falling? - through the arc of mid-air travel. When Felicia lands on the next rooftop, however, she's no longer inclined to ignore the feeling of being observed.

A quick roll through her shoulder to leave her pale hair flung back and she lands in a crouch, staring dead at the shadowed 'something' attempting to shadow her along her high-line travels. Her eyes narrow behind her domino mask even as she slowly releases the silvery talons through their mechanism within the gloves.

Lucifer has posed:
There's nothing in the direction of the sound. It will be when Black Cat looks away from that spot that it comes.

Suddenly, there's a figure RIGHT there in front of Black Cat, as if she came out of the very shadows. She is sleek and tall, of Latin heritage, her long dark hair streamers of shadow in the night. A yellow mask covers her nose and mouth. She is wearing all black, a mix of bondage-like leathers and tactical gear, though no part of her skin, save her face, is uncovered. She has a gun in one hand, and in the other, a foot-long short-sword, laced with glowing purple arcane runes. She doesn't raise the gun, but she does have the sword up and forward.

"Cat girl. I require a /word/," says the woman, her tone as sharp as the sword.

Black Cat has posed:
"And I require you to get that knife out of my face, lady," the Cat fires back, her own tone as sharp as her talons now fully on display. She remains crouched, a low target difficult to hit and with room to dart in nearly any direction from the position. Her jade-green eyes travel over the stranger's body and mark the weapons other than the short-sword with its violaceous sigils.

"You want to talk? Drop the pointy stick. It's not polite to threaten before you know who you're dealing with," Felicia continues, her voice still smooth, like frozen honey.

Lucifer has posed:
The new arrival flips the sword around, slipping it into the harness at her shoulder, but not before magic curled and spun around the blade: making it clearly grow at least another foot, if the magic were to be counted as a part of it. A threat? Possible. But she will parlay.

"I want to know what exactly you /think/ you are doing with Lucifer," asks the woman in the yellow mask. Her head is lowered, her indigo eyes glittering with calculating intelligence. Comparing her to any of the strange 'walking dead' they've met would be ridiculous: this woman is some other breed of a thing of the night.

Black Cat has posed:
Upon seeing the sword become sheathed, Felicia weighs the risk of the gun and places the odds in her favor. As such, she slowly rises to her feet in an extension of body almost snake-like, deliberate and certain of her own abilities to move in a flash. The silver talons of her gloves hang at her sides now, fingers gently curled in what could either account for relaxation or readiness.

"so you know him too, huh? He's a character. That's kind of vague though, honestly. There's a lot of 'doings' that happened since I met him, though none of the kind I'm sure you're thinking." Her smile doesn't reach her eyes. "Can you be more specific?"

Her heart is fluttering at the base of her throat regardless of the bravado on display.

Lucifer has posed:
"I am Noralzeen," proclaims Noralzeen as if that were enough, her left hand still caressing the grip of the gun she has pointed at the ground, the other drawn up to flow along the standing collar of her black leather top. She's slender and willowy, not shapely, but she has the same feel as her magical short-sword: that she is compact now, but looks may deceive about what magic is within her.

"And I do not think /you/ are worthy of /any/ 'doing'," Noralzeen says with distain. "Your tracking senses appear pitiful. What could he possibly want you for?" Her eyes gleam. "Perhaps you are a passing sex toy?" she suggests. Her fingers move to brush near where her mouth must be under the mask.

Black Cat has posed:
Felicia snickers, the sound unkind.

"Aw...is someone jealous? Or thirsty? I mean, the club's right in town. You could waltz right in and see if your jump-suited wanna-be ninja ass can make an impression on him?" The cat-burglar pauses to comb loose hair back behind her ear in a careful curling of claws.

"What was your name again, Noralzeen? That sounds like a cold medication by the way, you should get that changed. We're just friends, me and good ol' Lucifer. If you have an issue, you can take it up with him."

Lucifer has posed:
Noralzeen prowls slowly, starting to circle, though her movement is sideways, and has a vaguely unnatural quality to it. She prefers the shadow, but never actually moves out of shadow, even when she should. It's uncomfortable, in a way.

"No, I'm taking my issue up with /you/, pussycat," Noralzeen says, without any real anger at the jibes directed her way. She doesn't care what her name sounds like. The jealousy comments do land, though, and those indigo eyes glitter.

"If it isn't sex, then what is it?" Noralzeen asks, as if she were repeating herself and didn't much like it.

Black Cat has posed:
Felicia herself attempts to counter-step; her direction ends up far more oblique, clearly aiming to keep a roof's edge near her at all times for a convenient free-fall into a grappling-line's escape. She hazards the oddity of her potential enemy sticking to the geometric fall of shade from city lighting, but isn't banking on it being a truth just yet.

"I mean, really, do you need your ears cleaned out? I said we were friends. I'm currently shacked up with somebody else, okay? I know the idea of monogamy is apparently as ancient as the dinosaurs these days, but cut a girl some slack. Just because the difference between you and me is that I make this suit look goooooooood..."

There's a subtle sinuous shift in weight as pride momentarily crests.

"...doesn't mean I'm sleeping with him. What, you want me to put him on speaker or something?"

She blinks suddenly. "...are you an ex?"

Lucifer has posed:
Noralzeen laughs at her comment about monogamy. "I don't care if he fucks you; that would make more sense," answers the woman, with a shake of head. Then her eyes narrow, tighten.

"But his hunters are the very, very best. If you think to be one of /us/, I would test you," dares Noralzeen, one hand going to the hilt of the sword at her back. "As of now, you are unworthy, to my judgment," she says, darkly. "You should have admitted you are a toy."

Black Cat has posed:
"Bitch, please."

Felicia curls her red-red lips in a sneer. "I could have dropped your ass while you were standing there pretending to be some cast-off of the Three Musketeers. You want to try your luck? Come on, I'll go easy on you. Maybe you'll face-plant and fall on your own toothpick there. The only thing I'm hunting tonight is for Lucifer to laugh when I tell him how you came up here dropping shade while you can't even step out of it."

Lucifer has posed:
Noralzeen steps out of the shadow.

Something horrifying happens to her, as if she were a pirate in a Disney movie. Her skin turns black and burned, charred and swirling with strange texture, her eyes voiding into indigo abyss. She draws the sword, and closes quickly, a revenant of horror, without any more warning or shade to throw. The sword extends two extra feet, cleaving a grand sideways slash that twists into an uppercut.

Black Cat has posed:
The 'eeeeep!' that wishes to leave Felicia's throat never makes it. It gets clogged up as her reaction after a near-lethal beat of stunned fright is to immediately dance away beyond the initial slash and then swiftly to the left in order to scale the nearest air conditioner.

Up she goes then to the next highest place on the rooftop, an elevator departure point, before she attempts to sling a length of grappling wire around the sword-wielding woman's wrist -- the intent is a disarm of the weapon if not a dislocation of the arm as she puts her full strength into the tug.

Lucifer has posed:
The woman leans into the grapple, and magical energy, thick and sharp, conducts up the wire. It is a weird flow of enthropic magical energy, with a sharp scent of blistering skin. It isn't electrical: no, it isn't instant, it will take a little time to flow, an eerie force of draining, sickening energy.

"Unworthy," repeats Noralzeen, while her other hand draws the gun around to bear, and begins to shoot down the line of the grappling wire, in the wake of the flare of the magic.

Black Cat has posed:
Guns are never a girl's best friend when aimed at her.

Felicia's eyes go wide and she immediately janks hard to one side. It becomes a task to hit her now, with her speed and strength on full tilt. Skittering...well, like a cat on a hot rooftop, she at least attempts to wind the length of wire around the stranger with her freaky sword and freaky physique before she cuts the length of grappling wire.

The nauseating magic still bites at her wrist and it's with a wince that that Cat makes to scarper at this point. She's not magical, not like this, and as she throws herself in a swan-dive off the edge of the building, Felicia deliberately warps the area around her in her Bad Luck field. Another grappling line is set to swing her back towards one particular place where panic leads her, closer than the Sanctum itself:

To Lux.

Lucifer has posed:
A raspy roar, with an edge of mockery, follows the twisting grappling line. The line, with such magic applied, begins to melt, though the winded strands slow and stall Noralzeen's movement.

"I am a hunter, pussycat," Noralzeen calls, her voice slicing into the wind as the cat retreats. A promise that it isn't over: and that she might, in fact, be right on Black Cat's heels.

Yet a glance back doesn't reveal her...

Black Cat has posed:
A promise on the night wind has the Cat truly scampering for safety for the first time in a very, very long time. With her abilities at full stretch, she's a blur of black leather and a flagging of pale hair along the rooftops and between buildings on her extension of line.

Lux is easy enough to find in its territory and while she lands on the graveled roof, the thief immediately then locks a line to her belt in order to rappel down to the window she saw cracked. Thank god for money: its quality-made hinges are oiled and it opens soundlessly to admit her after she pulls herself into it. With a snapping of the line and its withdrawal into her wristlet, Felicia shuts and locks the window, backing slowly into the room while she stares at the window.

Her throat moves in a hard swallow when nothing slams against it or further aggresses at her. Shuddering through a sigh behind both hands to her mouth, there's a squeak of a sniffle before Felicia yanks her composure back around herself. The silvery talons disappear back into her gloves and when she turns, she looks about the room.

"...wow, he really does get fancy," whispers the thief as she walks for the door, intending to seek out the club manager one way or another.

Lucifer has posed:
Nothing bothers Felicia at all in the swanky private room, with the long couches that probably have seen some events that, well, belong in this room. If this room had eyes? Best to not think about it too long. The club is rocking: there's strong music pulsing the door, though it's a dull throb only, as these rooms are well insulated.

The door opens into the hallway of the upper floor: a mix of partygoers and dancers, all in extreme costumes that can only be described as 'lacking in coverage'. Some are 'slutty', others tasteful: it is a broad range of things.

A waitress with a shock of white Mohawk and a little skunky-tail on her super-short skirt spots Felicia immediately, but doesn't react. It's Halloween, and Felicia fits in, but she doesn't remember that private room in use. "Lost?" asks the waitress, helpfully.

Black Cat has posed:
If it weren't for how she's still attempting to swallow down her heart and her palm are sweaty inside her gloves -- ew, gross, Felicia is no fan of this whatsoever -- the Cat might be impressed by the number of costumes on display. Such fair flesh left and right, distasteful and tasteful alike, and she becomes aware that she blends in well almost instantly with the cat-suit. A boon, for once!

The waitress does make her start in place minutely with a resulting little sway and airy laugh to follow. "Oh, yes, I think I am. I need to speak to Lucifer, please, it's an emergency." Given there's a near-certainty someone's tried this once this evening already with the wait-staff, she's sure to add, "It's about a mutual friend of ours who had some great special-effects with her outfit when she showed me her sword."

Hopefully that is //just// this side of weird enough to snag Lucifer's attention this evening.

Lucifer has posed:
The skunkette weighs Felicia for a long moment, and then gestures towards the room Felicia just came out of, clearly inviting her to go back in there, rotating her serving tray to tuck it under one arm. "Can I get you anything? I don't know that he'll be immediately available," she asks.

Black Cat has posed:
Felicia is admittedly surprised at how the weirdness to have just left her lips has enough weight to merit an invitation to linger instead of a suggestion to leave and stop smoking whatever she was last smoking. The emotion shows in the widening of her jade-green eyes behind her domino.

"Oh, gosh, um. Water's good for right now, I guess, thanks. I might have a drink-drink later," she demures with another uncomfortable little laugh. It'll be more than just a drink-drink later when she returns to her home: there's a bottle of wine with her name on it to go along with her bubble bath.

Lucifer has posed:
"Water," echoes the waitress, with only mild judgement. If Felicia expected the waitress to leave, she actually doesn't: not right away. She follows the cat suited woman into the room, just enough to allow the door to close behind her. She rests the edge of the serving tray on the arm of the couch by the door. Then her 'helpful waitress' tone adjusts.

"You've met Noralzeen," the skunkette waitress says. It's sort of a question, but it's more of a statement. "Did she attack you?" In the better lighting of the private room, the waitress is easier to take in. Her Mohawk is white on top, but she has a variety of black braids down her neck and shoulders. Her skin is a warm gleam of African descent, but her eyes are hazel. She's fit in body and her gaze is steady.

Black Cat has posed:
Not expecting to be attended into the room, Felicia's certain to put a habitual cautionary distance between herself and the waitress. It brings her to begin pacing the opposite side of the room with half her attention still on the window. Her pacing pauses, however, at the drop of the hunter's name.

"Yeah, she decided to try and skewer me. Bitch." The thief's red-red lips lift in a brief sneer before she composes herself again with a squaring of shoulders. "She was, like, some zealot who wanted to see if I was worthy of something. I think she was jealous too, but...whatever. Something about how I knew Lucifer and then her creepy ass attacked me."

Lucifer has posed:
The waitress moves the serving tray across her body, to her other arm, resting fingers of her other hand against the top of it. It's not hostile, nor is it defensive.

"/Are/ you worthy?" the waitress asks, instead, tone even. But then it breaks into a strong smirk, eyes glittering some. "I'm only messing with you. I'll tell him," she says, turning away, and letting herself out.

Black Cat has posed:
Felicia's eyes harden for a split second towards the waitress at the comment, but the woman's shift of expression has her relaxing again almost guiltily.

"Thanks, I appreciate it," she says quietly to the waitress. Once more, the thief takes up her pacing back and forth along the wall. Her arms remain folded, but she's now brought up the knuckles of her right hand to rest beneath her lip pensively as her path brings her around the room. The air of distancing around herself is only half-true; reflexes listen and wait for a reaction to attack yet.

Lucifer has posed:
The door opens again: but it's just the waitress with Felicia's water, and a glass of whiskey also on the tray. While she's handing the water over, and the door is open behind her, Lucifer makes his arrival. He's lord of the hour, but very much in a 'classy nudity' direction. He's in a black suit with intensely red satin lining. The lining is very apparent, because he doesn't have a shirt on under the jacket. He's leanly muscular, in a slightly overly-perfect plastic-surgery leaning kind of way: like it is just /deliberately/ so. He's got handprints in body paint all over his abdomen and upper pectorals, one on his neck, in shades of black, red, and dark purple: it looks more like evidence of some activity, not a costume part. It appears they were applied before pants were put back on. He finally has on some obviously latex devil horns on his upper forehead. He looks energized and intense: as always, but he brings that same energy into the room, like a captured creature.

"So kind," Lucifer says to the waitress as she extends her tray with the whiskey on it to him, plucking the glass off of it. Then his wide, dark eyes wing to Felicia, watching her. "I've heard you have a problem." Lucifer says as the waitress lets herself out. His intensity grows, eyes going hypnotic, seeking hers. "Please, do tell me, masked cat."

Lucifer's gaze and ambiance, so comfortable, so /easy/ to trust and want to tell things to, rolling like a warm blanket on a chilly night. He'll help, it promises. It'll be so cathartic to tell him.

Black Cat has posed:
The Cat starts a little again and momentarily freezes in place when the door opens to admit the waitress, but she's grateful for the glass of water with a small murmur of thanks. Felicia has the glass nearly to her lips when Lucifer enters and he's admittedly a sight -- enough so that she lets the edge drop to the height of her chin and linger. In her peripheral, the Cat notes that the waitress leaves and the door shuts.

Her throat works in a swallow. "I...do have a problem," she admits with a weak chuckle. It takes some very serious effort to look away from those compelling dark eyes and as such, his lips are apparently a safer territory. "But you...have to keep a secret first...which I think you've told me you can do pretty well before...?"

//Stare at the mouth, Fee,// the thief coaches herself mentally. //Stare at the mouth and not the eyeballs because then you'll just start blabbering.// It's taking a hell of a lot of restraint on her part to do as such.

Lucifer has posed:
"So many problems everywhere; I can't promise that I'll solve yours," Lucifer says, with entire honesty, but not a lot of apology. He's not a solver of the world's problems. No, generally he gets blamed for them, even though he has nothing to do with them. 'Devil made me do it' and all...

Lucifer blocks his mouth with the glass of whiskey, and advances further, trying to catch her gaze. "But I will promise to keep your secret," he says, in a whisper, playful. His tone made it sensual. But then, he just came out of such a party, and a mood is a mood. He comes over, he'll come into her personal space if she doesn't dance away, looking at her costume, but still trying to grab her eye. "I always keep my word."

Black Cat has posed:
Little goosebumps race up and down her spine. Felicia tries her damndest to keep her attention on the golden liquor now blocking off her view of his mouth; curiosity, happily skipping in tandem with caution, is filing away the nuances of his behavior for future reference. After all, the thief doubts she'll get another opportunity to experience this particular approach from the club owner.

And it's...near impossible to resist glancing up at those dark eyes again. Ah, the curse of proper social interaction.

There's a moment where her brain visibly stutters. Then, leaning aside to set the water glass on the table, Felicia then plucks a strand of grappling-line from her wristlet. The platinum-blonde hair gets pulled back into a loose bun, all the while with her continuing to hold Lucifer's eyes, and then she slips the domino mask from her face.

"It's me, Felicia, and I dress like this when I'm out to steal stuff from people. It's a hobby. I find it fun. I ran into this crazy bitch Noralzeen while out tonight and she ran her mouth before she tried skewering me with her sword. She knew you." It all falls from her lips in a quaint breathlessness.

Lucifer has posed:
Dark eyebrows shoot up, and the pressure from his gaze stops. He backs it off abruptly. For him, that was just habit: pressure the stranger for what he needed, but Felicia is in a 'friend' category. He'd have used more finesse, not brute force, had he known.

There's no anger or upset: a broad grin launches to his features, charismatic and clear pleasure. "I like this /very/ much," Lucifer says, gesturing with two fingers on the hand that he holds the whiskey glass with. The fingers indicate from top to bottom, then come up and gesture around the upper torso more. He's not blind: hardly. Sometimes he has an uncomfortable way of looking TOO much. He's doing it now: that obnoxious thing, but also so comfortable. Like an annoying ex, but there's still energy there.

"Yes, that's what Tetra said," Lucifer agrees, about Noralzeen, as if it confirmed some gossip he'd heard secondhand. "Are you all right? Other than skewering, what did she want?" While there's no pressure in Lucifer's gaze anymore, his general aura remains: he's easy to talk to, most find.

Black Cat has posed:
Felicia blinks and scrunches her eyes closed hard for a second. "Ugh..." comes the sigh along with a press of fingertips to her temple. It's more a reaction to the manner in which she'd spilled the beans rather than the spilling of the beans itself -- beans were going to get spilled regardless of circumstances, given she's allowed herself a thread of trust in the enigmatic and dapper club owner.

"Right, yes, thank you," says the Cat in reply to the compliment. "I love wearing the suit." A small flint-spark of pride shows in her kohl-lined eyes.

Still, it's going to take the composure-regaining lean and pluck of water glass along with judicious sip before the thief clears her throat. "So, she's crazy, Lucifer. Like...fucking nuts. She wanted to know why I was with you. Like...I don't know, is she one of your exes or something? She seemed really jealous and like she had some point to make, calling me 'unworthy'." Air quotes follow along with a mocking tone of the word and exquisitely irritated eyeroll.

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer leaves her proximity, turning towards one of the couches, and drapes himself on it in the same manner as a lion might. His coat falls entirely open around his middle, making it really clear what those handprints were probably doing. He doesn't care. He's looking at his whiskey glass while she talks: as if giving her a reprieve from his focused, laser-like attention, then finally resumes observing her.

"I suspect she picked up my scent on you, so that is my fault; she's a stalker demon," Lucifer admits evenly. "I'll talk to Nora though," he says, and adds a bright smile, reassuring.

"Is it too bold to hope that that is the only problem?" he inquires lightly, as if his simple resolution was all that was needed.

Black Cat has posed:
"A...stalker demon? Scent?" A blink. "The fuuuuuuuuuuuuck, Lucifer?!"

There's more than a pinch of dismay and defensiveness in her tone, as if she'd take offense to being 'guilty by association'. "You'd better talk to her. I let her off easy this time," the thief asserts angrily before she finishes her glass of water. Then Felicia gets to pacing again; adrenaline hangover is uncomfortable and leaves her limbs full of restless prickling. Her motions are brisk and lissome, hips rolling as she circles around the far side of the couch on the opposite side of the room.

"Look, I have things I need to get done," -- though what the thief truly means is more things to steal -- " - and I can't have her just showing up with her freaky face and bullshit claims. Not only is it rude, but I //really// don't want to have to get Copperfield involved." Felicia pauses at the far end of the couch now and considers Lucifer.

"You realize that, right? That the Sorcerer Supreme really wouldn't appreciate this? I mean, if you like Noralzeen at all, you need to get her in line." Aware of whom she's speaking to, at least on some unconscious level, Felicia is firm without being truly demanding, as she might be to any of the few friends she claims.

Lucifer has posed:
"When I said I would talk to her, I will," Lucifer says. There's firmness, and he's still pleasant, but he's less playful. "I brought her here to hunt the possession demons. She answers to me," he says more clearly. He then downs the remainder of his whiskey in one go, and puts the glass aside for the staff to find and clean up later.

"If you see her, avoid challenging her to a fight; she's sort of..." he looks at the ceiling. "An embodiment of the sin of envy, to some extent," Lucifer recommends. "But I'll redirect her attention anyway." He looks her over, then moves to stand, and tries to put one hand on her restless shoulder. His ambiance is relaxed, perhaps he can chill her out. He's certainly relaxed.

"I didn't set her on you. That'll be the end of it. Do you believe me?"

Black Cat has posed:
Felicia's expression is eloquent of disbelief as to the 'embodiment of envy' bit and, granted, she does fold her arms a little tighter beneath her chest. At least she doesn't tap a booted toe. There might also be a small corner of her mind annoyed at being denied the chance to needle Noralzeen more, but it's only a small one.

A glance to the palm landing on her shoulder and then the thief allows herself a self-soothing sigh. "Yes, Lucifer, I believe you," she replies levelly, still brave enough to look up into his dark eyes. "Tell her she has better things to do like chase down those possession demons. No more annoying me." //And so there,// the Cat seems to imply.

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer hooks one brow up, and draws his phone from inside his suit coat. It's an apple, of course. A new one. He unlocks it and skims, and narrates, "You have better things to do, like chasing down the possession demons, not annoying women in sexy costumes. Come speak to me," Lucifer says. He turns the phone to show her. The targeted name for the text is 'Nora', and there's some previous conversation involving some questions from Nora about street directions visible above Lucifer's new outgoing text.

Both brows up, Lucifer pushes send. A moment later, there's a chime of noise of reply. "She's on her way," Lucifer observes, and and pockets the phone, smile cheeky as hell.

Black Cat has posed:
Despite herself, Felicia's red-red lips purse as she considers the phone's screen and then him. The ping of a sent text and the disappearance of the phone then brings the smile forth more instead of it lingering on her mouth. It echoes the coy amusement seen on Lucifer's face.

"That will do, Mister Morningstar," agrees the thief in an urbane manner, as if she were royalty deigning to accept a proposed solution from a magister. "I hope she listens to you. I don't want to get Copperfield involved. Now, if you'll excuse me, there's a bubble-bath and a bottle of wine with my name on it."

Lucifer gets a brilliantly fetching grin now and a deliberate, passing poise in the cat-suit. "Appreciate the help, Bowie," says she even as she turns to leave.

Lucifer has posed:
"There's no need to threaten with the Supreme's involvement," Lucifer says, amiable still, as if the threat still sort of amused him. He brushes all kinds of things off as being fun: it creates a strange enigmatic power to him. A power of strange indifference about many things.

"She won't disobey me and survive it." With the same relaxed tone, it's friendly and comfortable, but probably creepy. He puts on a bright smile, and opens the door to head back to his party. "You /can/ text me if you want to, by the way," he teases. "That's not exclusively for demon hunters." Demons that are hunters? Hunters of demons?

Lucifer grins, and departs much at the time that she does. "Happy Hallow's Eve."