DEIMOS
His brow should’ve remained questionably and curiously arched for the entire duration, scanning both faces – first the Evergreen’s with quick grins, to the infant’s, and then treading lightly over towards the folder. Placing his bag down, and all its containments, so he could apprise his full attention upon the bared gift, he lifted the lid of the sleeve to gaze down upon the emblazoned macaroni artwork.
It had all the touch of Erebos’ juvenile chaos (he could imagine the child’s hands moving each piece around and Evie clinging to clue in hopes it would manage and stay,) and the Evergreen’s hardy persistence and stubborn tenacity. More affecting and stirring were the sentiments alone – striving to find something poignant and uplifting for the Sword, when he knew it could be a difficult measure. “A fine piece,” he noted with clear pride, holding it up in distinction and reverence as if it was a masterpiece and oeuvre; a massive grin emboldening his features. He took a moment to snag charcoal nearby and write the date (preserving for future teasing), before maneuvering around the counter and placing it along the fridge. “Such work needs to be displayed and shown off,” he mentioned to both, selecting a magnet to polish off the portions.
From there he placed a kiss on both their crowns, with a generous rumble of gratitude. “Thank you,” and perhaps a sentimental notion that they could easily peel away the layers of apprehension and trepidation now for things with far more meaning. A tease to follow, as his hands went to grasp at his bag. “Would you like yours?”
It had all the touch of Erebos’ juvenile chaos (he could imagine the child’s hands moving each piece around and Evie clinging to clue in hopes it would manage and stay,) and the Evergreen’s hardy persistence and stubborn tenacity. More affecting and stirring were the sentiments alone – striving to find something poignant and uplifting for the Sword, when he knew it could be a difficult measure. “A fine piece,” he noted with clear pride, holding it up in distinction and reverence as if it was a masterpiece and oeuvre; a massive grin emboldening his features. He took a moment to snag charcoal nearby and write the date (preserving for future teasing), before maneuvering around the counter and placing it along the fridge. “Such work needs to be displayed and shown off,” he mentioned to both, selecting a magnet to polish off the portions.
From there he placed a kiss on both their crowns, with a generous rumble of gratitude. “Thank you,” and perhaps a sentimental notion that they could easily peel away the layers of apprehension and trepidation now for things with far more meaning. A tease to follow, as his hands went to grasp at his bag. “Would you like yours?”
i'm in the mood to dissolve in the sky
