Good tidings

She's the light in a dark room
She smiles with her eyes and it'll hold you

Though she knows Deimos would never judge her for her readily apparent emotions, she is grateful anew for the moment of privacy if only because she feels a bit like a blubbering mess. As the birth nears her emotions have become more and more difficult to parse and control the magnitude of. She is quite looking forward to not getting weepy over every little thing, but this - all of it - feels fitting for once.

"They don't hatch," she laughs wetly, charmed by their continuous shared efforts to understand one another often falling short. "I'll push them out through a series of cramp-like contractions in a live birth. And it's very soon - early Deepfrost, I think." In her medical opinion of course, backed by her doctor, but she can also feel it in her heart. Another winter-born child like herself and Deimos.

Her wet eyes soften at the edges as she lifts one hand from his waist to briefly cup his cheek in a maternal or perhaps sisterly gesture, pinching lightly at the crest of his cheek. "Indeed, he says. As if he has not become part god." Even her feigned exasperation is fond, joyous on his behalf. "I have been in her presence twice, but never on my own. I hope to try and meet her personally before the baby comes, but..." she shrugs, her smile bittersweet. She has become accustomed to the silence of shrines when not praying on Halo's behalf. If her luck runs dry once more she won't let it hurt her. "She's...magnetic. But given Deimos' allegiance to her I might be a bit biased." Evie knows how easily and often that magnetism becomes a dark downward slide, but she keeps it to herself amidst the other murmured gossip and negativity she has heard about the heralds over the years. "Are you happy?" In her eyes that's all that matters.

She's a bullet that's about to fire
And she's the steady that will keep you sane

Evie