Frey
"Sweet as a peach, and just as pretty."
Frey's voice seems to ring all around Lisbeth, from the fruits she has placed before the shrine, from the leaves overhead, from the very stones beneath her knees. And although the herald is not (yet) visible, they are undoubtedly present.
"I find that sometimes a plant will grow, and it will need assistance to shape into its proper form. Some species attach themselves to larger plants to achieve this, you know, like vines around the trunks of trees. Others, though... well. Others stand alone from the very start." Their voice is warm and soft and welcoming.
"Your words lead me to believe you are the latter, my peach. But you act like the former. You know who you are and what you want. Who am I to question your convictions?"
Frey's voice seems to ring all around Lisbeth, from the fruits she has placed before the shrine, from the leaves overhead, from the very stones beneath her knees. And although the herald is not (yet) visible, they are undoubtedly present.
"I find that sometimes a plant will grow, and it will need assistance to shape into its proper form. Some species attach themselves to larger plants to achieve this, you know, like vines around the trunks of trees. Others, though... well. Others stand alone from the very start." Their voice is warm and soft and welcoming.
"Your words lead me to believe you are the latter, my peach. But you act like the former. You know who you are and what you want. Who am I to question your convictions?"
