Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
Picking up the brushes, paint, and water, he couldn’t help but laugh at the statement. “Most of the time.” A fairly happy and content baby, but an infant nonetheless; Amhran hadn’t been involved in putting the child to bed when he clearly didn’t want to be. Erebos continued squealing, waving the rattle around as the Raeling persisted in bouncing him about. The newspaper came next, gently grabbing hold and crunching it, enough to get Erebos’ attention with wide eyes. Amhran never being in the barracks didn’t bother him – he’d never force anyone to go anywhere they weren’t comfortable or interested in – so he gave another small grin. “Probably one of the last places she would look.” Tucked neatly in his office, behind shelving or books…his mind already contorted the possibilities. Evie would be far more likely to venture into the training grounds, rather than snoop around his piles of maps and papers. Considering the options, and intending to leave his companions here, for multitudes of backup and sense (well, Zuriel had some), he nodded. “If you want to watch him, I will not be long.” Sneak in, sneak out.
And with those plans in place, the Sword could venture with the paintings to the chosen nooks and crannies. “Thank you for helping.” With everything, honestly.
[FIN]
