Evie
I'm growing up, but I'm not growing old
For all the insistences of vacations and getaways, Evie finds that this - a beautifully decorated tent, firepit, and a clear starry sky all in their own backyard - is as close to perfect as an evening can get in her eyes. Home in every single way that matters. The house they'd built at their backs, their companions at their sides, and each other. What more could she want?
It's a good thing she does not have access to the Attuned bond or surely he would be too sick with sweetness to consider something like s'mores. Sitting crosslegged at the entrance of their little temporary abode with Micah curled up and dozing in her lap, Evie tries not to make too obvious heart-eyes as she watches Deimos prepare further wood for their impending dessert. To his benefit, the Sword somehow finds the perfect sentence to startle her out of her amorous mood, making both her brows rise immediately.
Unsure whether to be amused, delighted, or to commiserate in his pain, Evie merely laughs slightly as she asks, "Already? Gods, they must be so tiny still, I don't think I'd trust anyone with holding them so soon if they were mine. Maybe not even myself." Ironically she'd only trust Deimos himself, and he's the one who was just submitted to such an ordeal. "Just one baby, or both?" The slightly sly smile makes it clear she is finding some measure of amusement in this, but she doesn't envy him the inherent terror of holding a newborn that isn't yours.
It's a good thing she does not have access to the Attuned bond or surely he would be too sick with sweetness to consider something like s'mores. Sitting crosslegged at the entrance of their little temporary abode with Micah curled up and dozing in her lap, Evie tries not to make too obvious heart-eyes as she watches Deimos prepare further wood for their impending dessert. To his benefit, the Sword somehow finds the perfect sentence to startle her out of her amorous mood, making both her brows rise immediately.
Unsure whether to be amused, delighted, or to commiserate in his pain, Evie merely laughs slightly as she asks, "Already? Gods, they must be so tiny still, I don't think I'd trust anyone with holding them so soon if they were mine. Maybe not even myself." Ironically she'd only trust Deimos himself, and he's the one who was just submitted to such an ordeal. "Just one baby, or both?" The slightly sly smile makes it clear she is finding some measure of amusement in this, but she doesn't envy him the inherent terror of holding a newborn that isn't yours.
And I hate to do anything that I've been told
