the harder the rain, honey, the sweeter the sun
His cheeks flinch into a dimpled smile at her touch, and he leans into it instinctively, already more familiar with it than his own. "Oh, yes," he agrees, chin tilting up to gaze at the roof of the greenhouse overhead. "I did not realise that the snow made noise." He refers, of course, to the soft pat pat of snowfall overhead, and undoubtedly he will be even more shocked to learn that the temperature outside is not at all the same as where they currently stand. (Especially given his state of undress).
"Erebos," he repeats, directing his gaze back towards her once more and nodding. "I remember. I hope he is doing as well as you are." As for his own moniker, he's reaching distractedly for one of the withered vines drooping down towards them, brow furrowed as if simultaneously celebrating and grieving his previous state of being.
"Amhran Siol is my name," he murmurs. "But I think I prefer just to be called Amhran. Is that alright?"
"Erebos," he repeats, directing his gaze back towards her once more and nodding. "I remember. I hope he is doing as well as you are." As for his own moniker, he's reaching distractedly for one of the withered vines drooping down towards them, brow furrowed as if simultaneously celebrating and grieving his previous state of being.
"Amhran Siol is my name," he murmurs. "But I think I prefer just to be called Amhran. Is that alright?"
