Chapter Text
Ada was the first of many.
The first human, the first woman, the first sinner.
When God gave her Adam, she drove a rock through his head without hesitation or remorse. She knew that she didn’t need him, didn’t want him.
Alone yet surrounded by unintelligent beasts, loathing her creator for the beast that she felt she was, Ada simmered like the flames below, calling her name through spits and roars.
Wild in the garden of Eden, Ada does not know what Hell is. God didn’t teach her about it so he could neglect how akin Ada is to those burning within.
One day, fretting over the ruin the daughter turned abomination could bring, God tried again.
But this time, there was no Adam.
There was Eve.
Skin brown like giving soil, eyes warm and smile sunshine bright, hair black and thick like coal swirls, she tiptoed off God’s outstretched hand and waved gingerly at the glowering woman.
“Hello,” she said like a prayer – hopeful and polite.
“You’re not an Adam,” Ada said like an atheist despite God’s eyes sticking to her. “Good.”
Brows knitting into a gentle furrow, Eve tilted her head, expression creased by confusion.
“Good because I am not an Adam or good because I am me?”
For all her life, Ada has drowned in a sea of animals who grunted and groaned and growled – she herself one of them.
Now there was a someone... new, someone who spoke words like she knew what they meant and made Ada want to understand.
“You,” she nodded curly. “Because you are you.”
The flush that lightly coloured Eve’s brown cheeks mimicked the pretty flowers Ada watched bees infiltrate. She would’ve leaned in to smell if Eve hadn’t began speaking again – she didn’t dare to miss her words.
“If I am Eve, and Adam is not, who are you?”
Ada does not say her name. She never has. God gave her that name and he gave her Adam so she does not like either.
Instead, she murmurs something more important, more fitting.
“Yours.”
Dipping her head like she’d seen lions do affectionately, Ada steps forward and offers a hand that suddenly yearned to be held. For a moment, the extension hung in the air like the other shoe before it drops.
Thankfully, fingers soon interlaced with her own.
“I think that makes me yours, too.”
Eve was the first of one, great thing.
The first to make Ada smile.