the harder the rain, honey, the sweeter the sun
Only worrying about his hair when it becomes evident that Erebos means to end the afternoon with a fistful of it in his grip (and no longer attached to his skull), Amhran carefully pries it out of the infant's fingers, only to have a flailing rattle offered his way. "Mm, I have been a victim of this trick before," he confirms to Deimos, though his smile is as warm and delighted as ever. Not taking the rattle - he knows better after last time, and the time before that - nor putting himself within bonking distance of it, he instead reaches out and uses Erebos's own chunky little hand to shake it around.
"There," he declares. "I helped, but you did not have to let it go." No one has told Amhran how much the youth does or doesn't understand of the words spoken to him, and so he's thus far been treating Erebos as an otherwise mute companion who is just as capable of mischief and planning as any of them. (And is he wrong, really?)
"There," he declares. "I helped, but you did not have to let it go." No one has told Amhran how much the youth does or doesn't understand of the words spoken to him, and so he's thus far been treating Erebos as an otherwise mute companion who is just as capable of mischief and planning as any of them. (And is he wrong, really?)
