Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
After putting the finishing touches on the painting, with some brighter aspects to the rosettes amidst blackened fur, Deimos figured he ought to call it decent enough – otherwise he’d spend hours speculating on perfected aspects when he already knew none existed. “Thank you,” considering the compliment and encouragement enough. Glancing back at the duo, he snorted as Amhran pretended to ‘eat’ said rattle, much to Erebos’ delight. The child giggled and squealed again, pleased that his offering had been accepted, before snagging it back in return and munching on it. “You do very well with him,” he measured towards the Raeling; the demigod likely knew it anyway, but often the Sword felt some notions were better left expressed and acknowledged.Rising from his position on the floor, he considered all the things necessary to clean up before Evie ventured home, but more significantly, how to ensure they weren’t found. “We will have to hide these,” came along with a wry, juvenile, and boyish grin again. Certainly not their own greenhouse; she encountered that far too often. “Maybe in the barracks.”
