Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
Without a direct answer from Amhran about the party situation, Deimos wasn’t certain how to proceed on such plans, or lack thereof, as it was. Maybe in the end they’d just have something quiet at home, and in further years, make far more open invitations towards new friends and comrades for either youth. Instead of voicing it again, he smiled in the demigod’s direction, pondering if it was something simply uncomfortable for him.As for what Evie would like, and any other machinations, the Sword nodded. “I think she will enjoy it.” Surveying the details, they seemed very poignant and oriented on just the boys – which had been his ploy all along. Something to showcase their growth and portions of family, without his clear and precise measures written all over it. “I was going to make one for her on my own,” as he finagled Erebos under his arm again, pinning the child against his ribs as he giggled, maneuvering the painted-upon paper off to the side to dry. “If you would like to do that too.” That way nothing and no one was left out, and it could be covered in Amhran’s handprints galore, should he so choose. “Or you can simply paint anything you want.” For fun and practice.
