Hideaway Strath nothing in comparison to that one minute

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Arturo is not sure if his youngest daughter responds to his voice or not — though he doubts it, for while it has been a long while since he’s been a father to newborns he knows that it takes some time for their hearing to truly develop (and even if she could hear that is unlikely she would know her name) — but coincidentally Eirlys moves towards him in that moment regardless. His ears perk forth atop his crown at the sound of approaching footfalls and for a moment his upper lip quivers with a lingering warning and threat ready to spill forth whether in words of a low growl but it dissipates as quickly as the protectiveness flares up as Hemlock’s chuff fills the cavern of the king sequoia. The flame kissed Leifteanant appears seconds later as Eiryls buries herself into his axilla. Ceannasach looks away from Hemlock to peer down at the snowdrop where she is nestles close to the junction between chest and leg a white, frail smudge against the over-creamed coffee of his chest. His fiery gaze of twin suns rises as Hemlock speaks and the gangster takes a moment to contemplate her words unsure if she is referring to Eirlys or the babes as a whole. “I’m not sure.” Arturo eventually admits. His worry for the snowdrop is great but so is the ferocious belief that if she is anything like his mother, like him she will defeat the odds. Unfortunately, Arturo had never been great at keeping blind optimism. Eiryls is strong, he knows that, but he does not know if she is strong enough. He is and always will be a realist and so he does not keep his hopes reaching. For his sanity and for his heart.

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