Safrin
There’s a shimmer in the air, a sweet sharpness like lightning caught in perfume, and then she is there—risen from moonlight and stardust, her presence both radiant and impossibly soft. Safrin takes in the spread with a smile already blooming across her face, the delight in her eyes unmistakable as she gazes at the feast of Stormbreak’s spirit laid out like a hymn in offerings. "Oh, Zavien," she murmurs, voice warm as dusk and velvet. "It's so good to see you here."
She reaches for the glass waiting patiently on the shrine, her fingers delicate against the crystal stem. As he kneels before her, leather cuff presented in silent triumph, she places her free hand gently against his cheek, thumb brushing lightly just beneath his eye. "Nothing," she breathes, "would make me happier." Her glass lifts, clinking sweetly against his. Then she sips, her smile curling like a secret against the rim before she lowers it again.
Instead of rising in grandeur or beckoning him to stand, she settles beside him—knees to the earth, gown of stars folding around her like nightfall made tender. Her gaze turns, bright and curious. "So," she says, tilting her head toward him, "tell me, Zavien. How does it feel... to be home again?"
She reaches for the glass waiting patiently on the shrine, her fingers delicate against the crystal stem. As he kneels before her, leather cuff presented in silent triumph, she places her free hand gently against his cheek, thumb brushing lightly just beneath his eye. "Nothing," she breathes, "would make me happier." Her glass lifts, clinking sweetly against his. Then she sips, her smile curling like a secret against the rim before she lowers it again.
Instead of rising in grandeur or beckoning him to stand, she settles beside him—knees to the earth, gown of stars folding around her like nightfall made tender. Her gaze turns, bright and curious. "So," she says, tilting her head toward him, "tell me, Zavien. How does it feel... to be home again?"
