The scars along his back and on his head throbbed in burning in for a moment. Around them, close by, things that weren't weighted down started to rattle as they bounced in place. Evian was locked in place, every muscle in his body quivering with tension. It was only when he felt moisture on his hand, and looked down to see his mead sloshing in his mug that he realized that right now he had to calm down. The dark haired man took in a slow, deep, breath, forcing the rigidity out of his frame, deliberately forcing his body into a more relaxed state. As he did, the rattling around the eased, then ceased.

He held up one hand to Felicity then waved a waiter over after pointing at his mug. As the waiter walked over, Evian drained his mug, then the first refill the waiter gave him as the worker stared at him in a mild degree of shock. After a moment of Evian just staring into the mug, the waiter backed off, returning to other guests. Once the two of them were relatively alone, Evian looked up, locking his eyes onto the redhead's. Even with all he had done to suppress his anger, he knew it was still roiling on his gaze as he stared at her.

"Good riddance to bad scum." His words were hissed out between gritted teeth. For a few seconds that hung in the air between them before he took another deep breath.

"Little snowflake, that man not only subjected you to that hell, in front of your very eyes he murdered another person trying make them suffer it as well." His voice was rising and dipping, anger dripping from his words. The tension in his voice was making his accent significantly more distinct as he slipped on his control. "That does not include the countless people who would have already been put through the same experiments, who died out of sight, forgotten, with no one to avenge them. Only those who can remember them. Mothers and fathers never knowing where their children went, brothers and sisters growing up without a beloved sibling."

One hand splayed out on the table, joints turning white from the pressure. Never once did his eyes waver from hers, though. Never once did he even blink.

"Let me tell you a story, little snowflake. But this won't be a happy bedtime story." It was how his father had started stories, before everything went horrifically wrong. Evian didn't give her a chance to say no, or ask why. His voice dropped down, lowering into a cadence.

"Once upon a time, a lonely old man lived alone in a big, empty, house. Gone were the laughs, gone was the tears, gone was the joy, for his wife, his one true love, had died, and with it, his heart. All he had left was his fear, and his anger, towards what he thought had taken her. Like every other good Salvaran, he was a good, devout member of the Church of the Ethereal Sway. Little snowflake, have you heard of them? They're the shield, the ones who guard good, devout, honest Salvaran people from the evils of that most foul of existences." Here he paused, his voice gaining weight.

"Magic." The word came out with heavy depth behind it. It carried the weight of countless years of hate and fear. It stuck in the air, an almost tangible block of loathing given voice, given name.

"The lonely old man was absolutely, positively certain that his wife, his life, died because of magic, you see." Evian drummed his fingers in a slow tempo upon the wood of the table. Working through this, saying this out loud, even to someone who had gone through something similar, was nigh impossible for him. "But the lonely old man had a deep, dark belief. He knew, knew, he could beat the magic. He just had to figure out how. And he had been a doctor, a scientist, so of anyone, he knew he could do it. And wouldn't you know it he had the perfect little rat to practice on."

His scars burned again, stinging in remembered pain as he spoke. "Slice, slice, went the lonely old man. The cries of the rat never bothered him, because it meant he was figuring it out, learning how to beat magic. The rat should be glad it was of such use! Slice, slice, went the lonely old man. And scream went the rat." Evian's drumming stopped, his nails digging into the wood of the table, curling the varnish against his skin.

" Would I do the same thing you did, little snowflake? Well. The rat finally stopped screaming. And the lonely old man went to meet his beloved wife." Evian reached out and drained his mug of mead again. When he finished, he stared at her again, blue eyes intense.

"Sometimes blood shouldn't be washed off. Sometimes it is a badge of honor. Sometimes the only way to stop a monster is with another."