They’re ecstatic when Bastien takes the toy to inspect it, a wide grin crossing their face as they wait for the consensus. And when Bastien tells them they’ve made it better, Azrael positively beams with happiness at the compliment. But the toy is disregarded as soon as Bastien is helping them out of the bed – dressing them in flowing clothes, airy and easy for toddlers to work with especially given their insistence at getting into everything.
Heading downstairs, however, they pause along with Bastien – their head lifting to view the painting of their mother, clinging to Bastien when he goes to lift them so they might say good morning as they usually do to her. “Morning mama.” Azrael says, a small hand lifting to wave a hello and offer a wide grin to their mother, imagining that she’d be able to see it somewhere.
And then they’re in the studio, and Azrael spies Pittore fast asleep on the table when Bastien questions if they want to wake him up. There’s an overexaggerated bob of their head, unsteadily walking forward before small hands land on the potato sack, trying to push and prod awake. “Torreeeyyy!” They chime, giving him another small prod.
Heading downstairs, however, they pause along with Bastien – their head lifting to view the painting of their mother, clinging to Bastien when he goes to lift them so they might say good morning as they usually do to her. “Morning mama.” Azrael says, a small hand lifting to wave a hello and offer a wide grin to their mother, imagining that she’d be able to see it somewhere.
And then they’re in the studio, and Azrael spies Pittore fast asleep on the table when Bastien questions if they want to wake him up. There’s an overexaggerated bob of their head, unsteadily walking forward before small hands land on the potato sack, trying to push and prod awake. “Torreeeyyy!” They chime, giving him another small prod.
progress, not perfection
Azrael
