the harder the rain, honey, the sweeter the sun
Perhaps the answer is both - or perhaps it's neither. Amhran doesn't know the grand schemes that make the world turn and cause deities to respond to their petitioners. What he does know is the sound of Evie's voice, one that has nurtured and laughed and scoffed and teased with frustration at every step of his growth, however quick and unconventional it might have been.
"Ice," he repeats, thinking before cementing the word in his understanding. "Yes, when the water freezes, it becomes ice. Sometimes it made it difficult for you to water us." Us being the rest of the plants in Evie's greenhouse, of course, and they feel as much his siblings as Erebos does. Speaking of which, to hear her speak it aloud - brother - has another dimpled smile gracing his lips.
"I would like that," he says. "I have never been a brother." Says the plant-turned-man who has only gained sentience in arguably the past few days.
Reaching for her jacket and drawing it around his shoulders, it arguably looks laughable on his lanky form, but it is likely better than nothing. "Ah, yes. Deimos is your husband." He nods - and clearly the distinction between Mother and your husband, i.e. not Father is a solid one, for now at least. (He has never met the man, after all).
More than happy to be led to the main house either way, Amhran's steps with all the confidence of a baby deer, in that he wobbles a touch, and absolutely doesn't know to look where he's going.
"Ice," he repeats, thinking before cementing the word in his understanding. "Yes, when the water freezes, it becomes ice. Sometimes it made it difficult for you to water us." Us being the rest of the plants in Evie's greenhouse, of course, and they feel as much his siblings as Erebos does. Speaking of which, to hear her speak it aloud - brother - has another dimpled smile gracing his lips.
"I would like that," he says. "I have never been a brother." Says the plant-turned-man who has only gained sentience in arguably the past few days.
Reaching for her jacket and drawing it around his shoulders, it arguably looks laughable on his lanky form, but it is likely better than nothing. "Ah, yes. Deimos is your husband." He nods - and clearly the distinction between Mother and your husband, i.e. not Father is a solid one, for now at least. (He has never met the man, after all).
More than happy to be led to the main house either way, Amhran's steps with all the confidence of a baby deer, in that he wobbles a touch, and absolutely doesn't know to look where he's going.
