Lift off your arms and I'll get the coffee
Evie is not intentionally quiet as she moves throughout the house, but her thick woolen socks and the whispering steps of Micah beside her lends to it naturally. It's a quiet day in the house, one meant for recharging batteries previously spent on long days coordinating the particulars of Frey's requirements. Evie turns into the living room with a book held loosely in one hand. She isn't sure if she wants to read it, but in case the mood strikes she doesn't want to have to fetch it from the library once she's comfortable and reluctant to rise.
Her eyes scan automatically, dropping immediately to Deimos on the couch. Immediately she has to bite the inside of her cheek as her dimples deepen with the force it takes to suffocate the giddy noise that rises in her throat at the heart-melting picture they paint. One of Erebos' chubby little legs is sprawled across Deimos' stomach, nudging up against the protective arm laid over his back. Evie tiptoes over, setting her book down on the table beside the paper Deimos must have been working on before sitting herself down beside it as well.
Grinning, she holds up a 'shhh' finger toward Belial as she snags the paper and flips it over to begin sketching the scene. She's more of a painter, but her skill has grown considerably since the early days of their relationship when he'd encouraged her to pursue the hobby. Graphite scratches softly against parchment as she captures their slack-faced, relaxed expressions with a smile so sappy it makes her cheeks ache. Only once she's made enough progress to put the details in later - and Deimos is quite a light sleeper, so he could wake any moment - does the Evergreen turn the paper back over to curiously examine what her husband had been scribing.
Grinning at some of the more lighthearted ideas, Evie rises again (wincing at the soft squeak of wood as she does) and sets the paper back down with the sketch facing up. Micah - who had been watching from the armchair across from the sofa - jumps down to join her and she hushes him in a librarian's scolding hiss for the thump of his paws but doesn't pause in her mission. Retrieving the candles they usually reserve for thematic lighting and late nights bent over documents, she begins to place them on the windowsills, lighting them as she goes. Incense isn't normally her thing when it comes to aromatics, but perhaps they can burn or smoke some of her herb blends...? Regardless, when one or both of them awake the soft glow of candles will be growing in number by the minute, flickering in the glass panes in long dancing stretches of orange that chase away the darkening sky beyond.
Her eyes scan automatically, dropping immediately to Deimos on the couch. Immediately she has to bite the inside of her cheek as her dimples deepen with the force it takes to suffocate the giddy noise that rises in her throat at the heart-melting picture they paint. One of Erebos' chubby little legs is sprawled across Deimos' stomach, nudging up against the protective arm laid over his back. Evie tiptoes over, setting her book down on the table beside the paper Deimos must have been working on before sitting herself down beside it as well.
Grinning, she holds up a 'shhh' finger toward Belial as she snags the paper and flips it over to begin sketching the scene. She's more of a painter, but her skill has grown considerably since the early days of their relationship when he'd encouraged her to pursue the hobby. Graphite scratches softly against parchment as she captures their slack-faced, relaxed expressions with a smile so sappy it makes her cheeks ache. Only once she's made enough progress to put the details in later - and Deimos is quite a light sleeper, so he could wake any moment - does the Evergreen turn the paper back over to curiously examine what her husband had been scribing.
Grinning at some of the more lighthearted ideas, Evie rises again (wincing at the soft squeak of wood as she does) and sets the paper back down with the sketch facing up. Micah - who had been watching from the armchair across from the sofa - jumps down to join her and she hushes him in a librarian's scolding hiss for the thump of his paws but doesn't pause in her mission. Retrieving the candles they usually reserve for thematic lighting and late nights bent over documents, she begins to place them on the windowsills, lighting them as she goes. Incense isn't normally her thing when it comes to aromatics, but perhaps they can burn or smoke some of her herb blends...? Regardless, when one or both of them awake the soft glow of candles will be growing in number by the minute, flickering in the glass panes in long dancing stretches of orange that chase away the darkening sky beyond.
There's sleep in your eyes, I'll pull the curtains back gently
Evie
