terminusvitae:

“That’s good.” What, exactly, does one say in regards to such a topic? Tactless as he is at times, Chaos certainly doesn’t know. Attention is diverted back to the fussing boy, nose scrunching in distance at the rather… wet sputter from him, knowing full well what that means, though he continues his patting for a few moments more to make sure there was nothing else on the way up.

     ”Are you going to settle now, you little terror?” He gently shits Arles back into the cradle of his right arm, claws plucking the towel from his shoulder and using a corner to gently dab at the little one’s mouth, frowning lightly at the gurgling noises seemingly in response to his question.
     ”… You are pest, you know that?” Towel is balled up in his hand as a wing comes around to form a barrier in front of his cradling arm, though the likelihood of him tipping Arles forward is practically zero. Without prompting or seeming thought, he drifts over to Vincent and presses his lips in soft linger to the corner of his mouth, with a whisper,

“Welcome home.”

     _{Turning his head to press those plush lips against their twins, he mutters, “Quit missing."  However firmly closed his mouth is sealed, it still pushes against another, and a hand disentangles from his hair.  His claw curls around the WEAPON’s head, having been thoroughly washed in a stream he was fortunate to find.  There is a distinct reason his glove is hidden from sight, in the closet in the laundry.  His c h i l d should be better raised than having crimson stain his skin.
     Pulling back, he nuzzles under a strong jaw, replacing the scent of battle with one of home.  ”…He takes after you, then.“  Peering down with slight disdain at his son, he extends a finger to grace over a chubby cheek and ghost over small horns.  A pang rushes through him; this is the child of monsters.  He has not even the disguise of a human.  ’…What have we slighted you with…little Arles?’}