Frey
"It's sure a hot one," Frey drawls, and Colt might be convinced for a second that the deity has taken on a cowpoke's drawl as they appear without fanfare beside the Accepted and her horse. Longheat in King's End makes Frey seem to glow with some inner sunlight, their eyes like stormclouds and a spring of wheat between their teeth. Heat rolls off them, carrying with it the faint scent of blue poppies, but all at once that is swamped out a heaviness in the air, humid and suffocating, promising rain.
"A little rain never hurt anyone," they continue, even as the first fat droplets begin to fall. "Enjoy it while you can." The rain hisses against flames, quickly soaking the thirsty ground, accompanied a moment later by a purr of thunder overhead. A dry storm no more, New Haven can expect the downpour to hold out for a good few hours - hopefully time enough to stifle any fire that tries to take further root.
As for Frey, with a pat to the horse's neck, they nod between Colt and Liam, and then are gone.
"A little rain never hurt anyone," they continue, even as the first fat droplets begin to fall. "Enjoy it while you can." The rain hisses against flames, quickly soaking the thirsty ground, accompanied a moment later by a purr of thunder overhead. A dry storm no more, New Haven can expect the downpour to hold out for a good few hours - hopefully time enough to stifle any fire that tries to take further root.
As for Frey, with a pat to the horse's neck, they nod between Colt and Liam, and then are gone.
