Their brows furrow, gaze snapping over to Bastien with interest. “Why couldn’t we go before, papa?” They ask, their voice holding all the curiosity as to why they hadn’t been able to go in the years prior. Of course, Azrael won’t understand, they haven’t gotten that far in their understanding of things yet.
But they meet their father’s gaze, an acknowledgement running through them before the seriousness breaks as they wobble their way over to Bastien to hand off the bowl. They duck their head a bit, a grin spreading across their face as Bastien ruffles their hair, before they’re moving to sit up in the chair again. “Do I have to sit still for a really long time?” They ask, recalling how long Bastien would sit in place to focus on painting a still life portrait of flowers or fruits.
They bounce their feet along the foot rest of the chair they sit on, before clasping their hands together. “What kinda flowers can we use?”
But they meet their father’s gaze, an acknowledgement running through them before the seriousness breaks as they wobble their way over to Bastien to hand off the bowl. They duck their head a bit, a grin spreading across their face as Bastien ruffles their hair, before they’re moving to sit up in the chair again. “Do I have to sit still for a really long time?” They ask, recalling how long Bastien would sit in place to focus on painting a still life portrait of flowers or fruits.
They bounce their feet along the foot rest of the chair they sit on, before clasping their hands together. “What kinda flowers can we use?”
progress, not perfection
Azrael
