Kaisel
He opens his mouth as if he means to say something about how ideal growing up in Stormbreak had been, but promptly closes it after an inhale of preparation. That he has lived a rather sheltered and easy life is not wrong, but since it's the only one he's had, whatever hardships he's faced have felt plenty difficult to him. It's not a truth he has always recognized or admitted to easily, but this isn't the first time he's had to. Rather than attempt a dick measuring contest about bad times, which he would assuredly lose, he sighs with some amount of resignation. "Growing up is maybe just never easy," he admits.
With the mint situated, he rejoins Mateo at the main planter to finish off the seedlings. He listens, trying to imagine the situation as best he can. Maybe not demigods, his parents had been pulled away often for work and war as well, and to a child it feels as if all parents have some amount of godly power to them. At least, until you get older. He's sure though there's a difference between imagined divinity and the actuality of it, and the workload of a soldier compared to a commander.
"Never feels good to not be the priority." Having too many titles might mean needing to decide which one to wear at any given time, but dad is one that never goes away. "I'm guessing it's not easy when the world is on the line though. Choosing." He doesn't think being a demigod or saving the world had anything to do with Ronin refusing to let Flora join his family, but again, not needling, as promised.
Rising from the work in the soil and brushing the debris from his wet hands as best he can by wiping them off on one another, he glances away from Mateo for a moment with a mild sigh. "Good thing I opted not to pick a fight then," he asserts, leaving behind the other questions that swell on his tongue. He doesn't need to needle his friend without even knowing when he'd picked up the sharp tool. "C'mon, let's tarp these and get inside and get dry."
With the mint situated, he rejoins Mateo at the main planter to finish off the seedlings. He listens, trying to imagine the situation as best he can. Maybe not demigods, his parents had been pulled away often for work and war as well, and to a child it feels as if all parents have some amount of godly power to them. At least, until you get older. He's sure though there's a difference between imagined divinity and the actuality of it, and the workload of a soldier compared to a commander.
"Never feels good to not be the priority." Having too many titles might mean needing to decide which one to wear at any given time, but dad is one that never goes away. "I'm guessing it's not easy when the world is on the line though. Choosing." He doesn't think being a demigod or saving the world had anything to do with Ronin refusing to let Flora join his family, but again, not needling, as promised.
Rising from the work in the soil and brushing the debris from his wet hands as best he can by wiping them off on one another, he glances away from Mateo for a moment with a mild sigh. "Good thing I opted not to pick a fight then," he asserts, leaving behind the other questions that swell on his tongue. He doesn't need to needle his friend without even knowing when he'd picked up the sharp tool. "C'mon, let's tarp these and get inside and get dry."
There's darkness in the distance
I'm beggin' for forgiveness
But I know I might resist it
I'm beggin' for forgiveness
But I know I might resist it
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
