Frey
Peaches at Deepfrost? Well, one ought to expect such a thing from a demigod of Frey, and the herald is appreciative of the ingenuity. Indeed, whilst the snow doesn't thaw at their arrival, sprigs of holly and mistletoe, hawthorn and snowdrops do spring to life around them, bringing splashes of colour to the somewhat bleak season.
"How thoughtful, peach," they croon (and yes, they know what they just did there), clad in fur that, on closer inspection, appears to be an assembly of living arctic foxes, happy to curl and nap around Frey's form as they go about their business.
Running careful golden fingers over the peaches, they raise their eyes to Phoebe and Jude both. "And what a fine young man you are becoming," they inform the boy. "Nature is serving you well, it seems."
"How thoughtful, peach," they croon (and yes, they know what they just did there), clad in fur that, on closer inspection, appears to be an assembly of living arctic foxes, happy to curl and nap around Frey's form as they go about their business.
Running careful golden fingers over the peaches, they raise their eyes to Phoebe and Jude both. "And what a fine young man you are becoming," they inform the boy. "Nature is serving you well, it seems."
