the harder the rain, honey, the sweeter the sun
"Oh," Amhran says, automatically smiling as if Deimos's laughter is contagious despite the boy's confusion; if not redecorating, what else could it be? Of course, he isn't left in suspense for long, and the Sword's explanation has something like curiosity and excitement blooming across the raeling's face. Nodding - and grinning - at Erebos's contributions, both aural and with a little green footprint, Amhran kneels before the parchment.
He considers following suit with his own foot for a moment (Deimos is right), and it's only the ridiculous size difference between himself and Erebos that prevents it. He doesn't know much about art, but he doesn't think that will look aesthetically pleasing. "Does Evie like paintings?" he wonders with a smile, selecting a brush and dipping it into a russet brown colour. He's not sure if the art is the gift or if it's just because it's from them.
"And what are... birthdays?" he wonders; as he speaks, he paints what is undoubtedly a tree trunk near Erebos's footprint, marking out spidering branches as he goes and blowing on it to let it dry.
He considers following suit with his own foot for a moment (Deimos is right), and it's only the ridiculous size difference between himself and Erebos that prevents it. He doesn't know much about art, but he doesn't think that will look aesthetically pleasing. "Does Evie like paintings?" he wonders with a smile, selecting a brush and dipping it into a russet brown colour. He's not sure if the art is the gift or if it's just because it's from them.
"And what are... birthdays?" he wonders; as he speaks, he paints what is undoubtedly a tree trunk near Erebos's footprint, marking out spidering branches as he goes and blowing on it to let it dry.
