the harder the rain, honey, the sweeter the sun
To the surprise of absolutely no one, the greenhouse has remained one of Amhran's favourite places to be. It would be disingenuous to assume that the young Raeling sneaks away to the warm, vibrant space whenever he can; given his size, sneaking isn't a natural skill he possesses, and besides which, he doesn't yet know that there are alternatives to merely walking and running.
All of that is to say that he moves around the greenhouse with the same sort of comfort that comes with shrugging into an old and well-worn jacket, and by the time Evie's voice reaches his ears, he's already half turning towards her. "Of course," he says, voice rich and low as if not to disturb his slumbering and root-bound brothers and sisters.
Leaving the seedlings he'd been planting, he wipes off peaty hands onto his pants and crosses the short distance to Evie, collecting up a pair of small hand-shears. Barefoot, of course (his boots are set down safely next to the door ready for their trek back to the house), he bends down and carefully tucks the soft flame of her hair back behind her ear, before cutting the grafting tape with a snick.
"Is that alright?"
All of that is to say that he moves around the greenhouse with the same sort of comfort that comes with shrugging into an old and well-worn jacket, and by the time Evie's voice reaches his ears, he's already half turning towards her. "Of course," he says, voice rich and low as if not to disturb his slumbering and root-bound brothers and sisters.
Leaving the seedlings he'd been planting, he wipes off peaty hands onto his pants and crosses the short distance to Evie, collecting up a pair of small hand-shears. Barefoot, of course (his boots are set down safely next to the door ready for their trek back to the house), he bends down and carefully tucks the soft flame of her hair back behind her ear, before cutting the grafting tape with a snick.
"Is that alright?"
