Evie
When hope and peace begin to fray
Normally Evie would be in full and wholehearted agreement about gods (and busybody mortals, as has been their recent woe) foisting things off onto them or presenting expectations from nowhere. Buuut…well, call it not sticking to her morals, but Rae giving her the equivalent of Jack-in-the-box adoption papers is far easier to swallow. Or maybe it’s just the baby brain gleefully accepting a second son like a mother cat simply believing she had miscounted her litter.
“Thank you love,” she calls after Deimos, hoping the extra time in relative solitude will help him begin to grapple with the news. “No,” she has to pause here as if considering her response but really she is trying not to laugh at the imagery, “you will do both through your mouth, and it will settle here for a time while your body breaks it down.” She pokes at his belly with a smile, wondering how traumatic the next step might be for him with a fully developed but otherwise plantlike brain. Silently she prays Deimos prepares food that won’t require utensils either; hopefully Amhran’s lankiness will someday develop some aspect of grace, for everyone’s sake. His limbs seem to be everyone’s business regardless of Amhran’s best efforts. Or perhaps in spite of?
“You can absolutely have a space in the greenhouse if it’s what you find most comfortable right now. We can build a room onto it as a smaller version of a house too with a bit of time.” She gestures to the house around them as an example for word association. Truly with the greenhouse a short walk out the back door he won’t need the majority of the main abode’s offerings, but a mother-in-law style addition might be appreciated. “I don’t think I have a planter box big enough for you in the meantime though, so how about you try the bed in the room we got dressed in at least once?” Her smile is encouraging, if a bit misleading. If he hates it as much as the socks, well, at least she can say she tried. Evie won’t tell him she and Deimos can whip up a fertilizer-filled equivalent of a vampire coffin in less than an hour - mostly because she vainly hopes he’s envisioning a cot in the greenhouse aisle instead.
“Thank you love,” she calls after Deimos, hoping the extra time in relative solitude will help him begin to grapple with the news. “No,” she has to pause here as if considering her response but really she is trying not to laugh at the imagery, “you will do both through your mouth, and it will settle here for a time while your body breaks it down.” She pokes at his belly with a smile, wondering how traumatic the next step might be for him with a fully developed but otherwise plantlike brain. Silently she prays Deimos prepares food that won’t require utensils either; hopefully Amhran’s lankiness will someday develop some aspect of grace, for everyone’s sake. His limbs seem to be everyone’s business regardless of Amhran’s best efforts. Or perhaps in spite of?
“You can absolutely have a space in the greenhouse if it’s what you find most comfortable right now. We can build a room onto it as a smaller version of a house too with a bit of time.” She gestures to the house around them as an example for word association. Truly with the greenhouse a short walk out the back door he won’t need the majority of the main abode’s offerings, but a mother-in-law style addition might be appreciated. “I don’t think I have a planter box big enough for you in the meantime though, so how about you try the bed in the room we got dressed in at least once?” Her smile is encouraging, if a bit misleading. If he hates it as much as the socks, well, at least she can say she tried. Evie won’t tell him she and Deimos can whip up a fertilizer-filled equivalent of a vampire coffin in less than an hour - mostly because she vainly hopes he’s envisioning a cot in the greenhouse aisle instead.
know that daybreak is not far away
