Deimos
suns for bones and constellations for eyes
One of Deimos’ ways of expressing his devotion was through bestowals – so his features, when not distracted by embracing his wife thoroughly, was watching the reactions of said gifts. Erebos, for all his affect, was already astounded by the ribbons, and so he shook his head and obliged his son with a little assistance, as the youth unfolded the small, wooden cart, complete with wheels and attached ride-a-long portion, and accompanying squeals of delight. The infant also thoroughly enjoyed the Raeling’s extension of peppermint bark, instantly going into his mouth to be gnawed, and Evie’s proffered unicorn, grabbed in the opposite hand of the chocolate, before his gaze flickered upon Amhran’s response. His own expression responded in kind to the beaming – content and easing a sigh of relief that he’d gotten the right measure of what the demigod would appreciate and like – before being surprised with gifts extended towards himself. Never much one for offerings extended upon himself, he slowly, with great reverence, peeled away the adornments to find the parchment laden within – extending a laugh at the accompanying statement. “Very true. Thank you.” Though the paper would be much too good for the usual fanfare of political letters; he’d have to save it for special occasions.
The Sword arched his brow at Evie, willingly continuing with the teasing and taunting above the sound of ripped paper looming from the youth in the highchair. “We would not want to spoil you too much,” he declared, even though they all knew it was the exact opposite. Managing not to flush at the mention of future additions and planning in such arrangements, because gods he was going through that dread and apprehension round again with Family nonsense, he also wasn’t permitting notions to ruin the current mood. Watching as some of the presents began floating, he snorted and pried the offerings for her carefully in his grasp again, ensuring they didn’t flicker near her until they were good and ready.
When she granted her exchange, he did the same – handing over the works. Once she pried away the wrapping, she’d find the artwork done by Amhran, Erebos, and himself – renderings in paint of Michah, plant life, and trees alike in a more formal style by the grown individuals, and then a more familial contortion and creation of evergreens in signatures of Erebos’ feet and handprints, intermingled with the demigod’s and his own digits.
Only thereafter did he take hold of Evie’s presentations – glancing over the navy toned sweater with its icy figments and matching socks, or the aroma of the fancy chocolates that likely wouldn’t last the day. Striving not to become too sentimental in front of everyone, his features still broadened in a boyish, juvenile smile, holding the sweater up to his neck and over his chest with a very proud, distinguished notion. “Thank you.”
