Safrin
everything looks perfect
from far away
from far away
Safrin’s eyes darkened at Zavien's quiet inquiry. She paused, a tremor of sorrow rippling through her as she struggled to find words that could bear the weight of her grief without shattering the tenuous veneer of solace she had crafted. In that suspended moment, she felt the heaviness of loss in every fiber of her being—a loss so profound it blurred the edge of her divine light. With a slow, deliberate breath, she lowered her gaze, allowing the unspoken ache to gather in the depths of her eyes. A single, sorrowful tear slid down her cheek, an intimate testament to a pain she dared not fully name.
"One of my daughters was murdered during LongNight," she murmured, her voice soft and trembling. Slowly, Safrin’s hand reached out, pressing gently against the side of her face to catch her tear before it could properly fall to the ground. In that moment, the cosmic splendor of her usual presence was tempered by the raw, all-too-mortal ache of her loss. And though the precise details remained unspoken, the sorrow in her eyes and the faltering cadence of her voice spoke volumes: something precious had been taken, and nothing in the brilliance of the returning day could yet restore it.
"One of my daughters was murdered during LongNight," she murmured, her voice soft and trembling. Slowly, Safrin’s hand reached out, pressing gently against the side of her face to catch her tear before it could properly fall to the ground. In that moment, the cosmic splendor of her usual presence was tempered by the raw, all-too-mortal ache of her loss. And though the precise details remained unspoken, the sorrow in her eyes and the faltering cadence of her voice spoke volumes: something precious had been taken, and nothing in the brilliance of the returning day could yet restore it.
