Frey
Longheat presses in all at once, the warmth already thick suddenly turning decadent, syrup-slow, as if the season itself has leaned closer to listen. The ever-burning flame flares brighter, its colour deepening, while the windchimes lose their idle music and instead hum with a low, pleased resonance, metal kissing metal in a lazy rhythm. Scents bloom where none had been a moment before—ripe fruit, sun-warmed skin, something honeyed and alive—and the earth beneath the shrine seems to exhale.
Frey emerges as if coaxed out of the heat itself, presence coalescing rather than arriving, a figure shaped by want rather than form. Their smile is immediate and knowing, slow in the way of someone who has never once had to hurry, their attention sliding effortlessly to the offering laid out before them. "Mm," they murmur, voice velvet-smooth and unbothered by the passing of time. "I do not mind a little waiting."
They reach down, fingers trailing over the platter with deliberate appreciation before selecting a banana, then a pineapple ring. With an unhurried grace, they slip the ring over the fruit, letting it settle there as they lift their gaze again, eyes glinting with quiet, indulgent amusement. "Delayed gratification," Frey purrs, the corner of their mouth curving. "Sometimes it tastes the sweetest of all."
Their head tilts, heat and curiosity braided together in the motion, expression softening just enough to invite honesty, or confession. "But tell me blue eyes," they add lightly, eyes never leaving the former Commander, "did you do what I asked?"
Frey emerges as if coaxed out of the heat itself, presence coalescing rather than arriving, a figure shaped by want rather than form. Their smile is immediate and knowing, slow in the way of someone who has never once had to hurry, their attention sliding effortlessly to the offering laid out before them. "Mm," they murmur, voice velvet-smooth and unbothered by the passing of time. "I do not mind a little waiting."
They reach down, fingers trailing over the platter with deliberate appreciation before selecting a banana, then a pineapple ring. With an unhurried grace, they slip the ring over the fruit, letting it settle there as they lift their gaze again, eyes glinting with quiet, indulgent amusement. "Delayed gratification," Frey purrs, the corner of their mouth curving. "Sometimes it tastes the sweetest of all."
Their head tilts, heat and curiosity braided together in the motion, expression softening just enough to invite honesty, or confession. "But tell me blue eyes," they add lightly, eyes never leaving the former Commander, "did you do what I asked?"
