Warm winds gather around the courier and his companion as the air grows thick and electrically charged as if a storm was brewing directly overhead. The foliage seems to shrug and sigh, becoming suddenly dense and blocking the shrine from the eyes of anyone happening to pass by.
Appearing like the unfurling of a seed lays Frey, on their back, with fingers already plunging into the honey and then the cream. It's a messy endeavor, but not one the deity seems to mind at all. Entirely naked and with an appearance perfectly cultivated to whatever the utmost desires of the man before them happened to be, it was with a sly smile and curled toes that they lazily regarded Talyson. "You certainly came prepared." They purr, nodding toward the various offerings, noting how each herald and god was accounted for.
Raising their fingers to their mouth, they paint their lips with the honey-cream mixture before licking it slowly away.
