the harder the rain, honey, the sweeter the sun
One might argue that Amhran can’t go through anything like adolescence, since he’d sprung fully formed from the seed Evie had planted courtesy of Rae… and one would be quite wrong. Whether it’s the prospect of more rocks always, the early hour, or the bright glare of the sun on snow, he arrives squinty eyed and bundled in his coat, heading straight for the table of breakfast.
Only once he has a cup of hot tea for himself and enough hash browns to feed a small army does he approach Deimos and Iskra, offering the latter a quiet nod and waiting expectantly for the work to begin as he plops into one of the seats. Examining the piles of rocks ruefully, he doesn’t hide the wrinkle of his nose. ”Will it always be stones?” he asks, as if preparing himself to avoid any future endeavours armed with that knowledge.
Only once he has a cup of hot tea for himself and enough hash browns to feed a small army does he approach Deimos and Iskra, offering the latter a quiet nod and waiting expectantly for the work to begin as he plops into one of the seats. Examining the piles of rocks ruefully, he doesn’t hide the wrinkle of his nose. ”Will it always be stones?” he asks, as if preparing himself to avoid any future endeavours armed with that knowledge.
