the harder the rain, honey, the sweeter the sun
Things might always be cold in Halo, but Amhran can feel Flowerbirth in his very bones. As such, the days have found him in and out of the greenhouse, tending to seedlings and encouraging young plants to bud and flourish. He works quietly and dilligently, not minding the silence of his own company, as if he can hear nature at work beneath the soil. (And let's be honest, he probably can).
But he is no longer the same as his root-bound cohorts, and things like hunger and thirst merit regular breaks. As such, when he slips into the house to hear Amham being hollered for by a little voice, he is of course more than happy to heed the call. "Hallo," he announces as he steps into the kitchen, his moss green sweater thankfully free of soil and his hands clean, his hair pulled up into a loose knot atop his head.
"And how has your day been so far?" he inquires to Erebos, taking a seat at the table beside his high chair as if he's going to be regaled with the story of the week, and flashing a smile to Deimos. "Can I help at all?"
But he is no longer the same as his root-bound cohorts, and things like hunger and thirst merit regular breaks. As such, when he slips into the house to hear Amham being hollered for by a little voice, he is of course more than happy to heed the call. "Hallo," he announces as he steps into the kitchen, his moss green sweater thankfully free of soil and his hands clean, his hair pulled up into a loose knot atop his head.
"And how has your day been so far?" he inquires to Erebos, taking a seat at the table beside his high chair as if he's going to be regaled with the story of the week, and flashing a smile to Deimos. "Can I help at all?"
