footprints left in the snow

If it helps, Melita, Amhran is not accustomed to responsibility unless it comes from under Deimos's guidance, so this will be a rotten wake-up call for him as well. As the demigoddess marvels at Halo's greenhouse and makes her inevitable way towards him though, he contents himself in obliviousness for the time being. Busy collecting berries from the bushes bearing fruit and transferring them into neat little pallets to be carefully wrapped and moved out of the greenhouse later, Amhran is the picture of a man at home in the dirt as he works. The sound of her voice has him glancing up from his place on his knees, pants scuffed with soil with dark crescents under his fingernails too as he lifts a hand to swipe a lock of hair out of his face. "Oh, hallo," he says readily as his eyes land on the vibrant young woman. "It's no bother - the fruit isn't going anywhere. I am, yes. And you're..." His brows furrow for a second, trying to do her justice because it isn't as though she's unknown. "Melita," he announces at last, hoping he's correct. "Ludo's chosen. Right?" amhran amhran