girl almighty ;

"And you shall, for I keep my promises," Davhy says solemnly, a hand over his heart as if to underline his words, before sending Even an indulgent smile as his child scampers off to do as asked by his mother. He keeps looking after him for one long moment, before sighing and turning his face towards Isla. There is tiredness in his features as he looks at the mortal, something so ancient and inhuman that is nearly unrecognizable of who he is before he wipes it away and offers her a raised brow. "I am only encouraging his curiosity. I believe he is at an age where that is necessary, right?"

"Okay," she murmured, nodding slowly. Sehanine. Arvandor. It all sounded very Lord of the Rings and the mortal was half afraid of what a dog-like creature meant. "I don't know half of what you just said. So I'll assume that you'll update me better on the way to your forest because your son needs to let off some steam," she swallowed, "maybe literally." By this point, Isla had not yet seen Hazal in regards to her son's new abilities but her fear had been growing over Evan's newfound strength. To endure such a profound biological change at so young and age and be endowed with fire of all things when his father was an elve of water and ice... it was every single day that Isla feared they'd burn down the apartment. She didn't confide these fears with Davhy yet, preferring to learn what else she needed to worry about on the now elven side of her son's parentage.

The only thing Hazal was learning was how difficult Amaranthus was to eradicate as long as she remained, she was reduced to the lone survivor and had become the Sovereign for herself and a vampire who she hoped that when he died, he thought of the Amaranthus estate as a home. The most stubborn and those that held fast were still able to be washed away by the tides of tragedy and time, by all accounts the covens house should be an empty tomb but by a graceful turn of hand, the rooms were filled and magic was practiced in the halls, the pain eased little by little when she would hear their voices through the walls.

Isla would have put her life and the life of her son in a supernatural's hands. She hadn't seen this coming, even if her own mother had always been fond of natural practices and remedies that Isla now saw were so similar to those of witches. Isla had come to Italy with more patience and trust in witches and druids above most supernaturals - but even so she wouldn't have seen the bond and the love she'd form for one of them. Gratitude and relief flooded her with Hazal's words. Maybe it did take a village to raise a child. She hesitated before nodding and then smiling. "I can't believe I came to Rome so scared about my future but... if this is my life now then I can't imagine trusting anyone more to help guide me and my son. Because of you and, well, hopefully his father, I'll make sure he doesn't grow up with the fear and pain I did over magic. He'll know this is his home too, a place to cherish and protect."

"I didnae go back." He doesn't think he's ever really talked about it, not like this. The last time he'd had a conversation he'd had about his parents, it'd been with Gavyn and it'd been about not going back. He'd left them and everyone in that house alive. "Thought on it fer a while, choose not tae." His mother must have kept up with trying to be more than just some maid if Isla was right there. He wondered who she wound up marrying, who his father settled down with. "Ma wasnae exactly mother of the year an' my father tolerated me at most." Got him a job in the stables as he grew, treated him more like a coworker than a son.

Isla considered, her lips pursing the more she thought about it. There had to be a reason why a man would leave home and not think to ask questions about the family he had left behind. There had to be a reason to the nonchalance and even slight distaste in Jamie's eyes. Her gaze fell, a bit of sadness getting to her as Isla abandoned the thought of returning to Scotland. But as she thought about the life they'd make in Italy, Isla wondered if that wasn't for the best anyway.

"Of course I know the samba. I'm Brazilian." Not that he really remembered anything about his life before the Inferno, but he knew who he was in that regard. It always amused him when he thought of how, of every witch in the entirety of the world that could summon him, it had been Ciro. Someone who was just like him in too many ways to count. Amico hadn't been a dancer by any means, but he'd always tried his best and it had just made him better. Trying to teach Ciro when he was younger also helped with that, too. Plus, he felt like it would be embarrassing if he didn't know how to samba. "One more drink and you'll dance with me?" He shook his head, smile firmly planted on his face. "No, no, that won't do. If you can't dance with me sober, then we just can't dance." He held his hand out towards her. "If you step on my feet, I promise it won't hurt as bad as hot coffee to the face."

Isla found herself giggling a little, genuinely amused. She shook her head and took his hand. "Fine," she muttered, as though it annoyed her. The pretense was weak and very clearly false, the mortal smiling not a second after as they headed to where the music started to swell. The beat was obscure at first, confusing and chaotic as people laughed and started spinning around without a care. She took the initiative to hook her arm through Amico's and spun them around the way that a nearby couple was doing just for the fun of it, laughing softly while the band adjusted themselves after a few seconds. "What do you think will happen if you step on my feet?" Curious to know just how much he thought she hated him now. The music quickly settled to something upbeat and instrumental, something that had people taking their partner's hands. She let him take the lead now, slowing them down to stand in front of each other.