frey
"Very good." The deity purrs. Sitting up, their body begins to blend and sway into the breeze; their limbs disappear into leaves and their eyes into a small chorus of butterflies that flit toward Phoebe on emerald wings. Kissing her cheeks with their wings, Frey's laughter hangs heavily on the red tide of the cataract as it flows above the ground.
~FIN
~FIN