it's fine to fake it 'till you make it
Safrin’s expression softens as though Lyra’s breathless devotion pleases her in precisely the way it should. The smile she offers now is radiant and almost maternal in its warmth, approval shining through her like the heart of a star at full burn. "Mmm," she says gently, her thumbs brushing once along Lyra’s cheekbones before her hands lower. "You will feel far more than this soon." There is delight in her tone. "Do not rush toward it," she continues, straightening to her full celestial height. "New instincts are powerful things. Let them unfold. Listen before you leap. Power is sweetest when it is understood."
Her gaze lingers, assessing and affectionate in equal measure, as though committing this moment to an eternal ledger. Then, with a playful glint that does not quite diminish her divinity, Safrin winks. "I shall be watching," she says lightly, though the promise carries weight enough to anchor continents. "From above. I am curious to see how you shine."
Starlight gathers around Safrin's form once more, brightening until her edges blur into brilliance. In a soft rush—like a constellation collapsing into itself—she vanishes, leaving behind only drifting motes of silver light that fade slowly into the twilight air.
Her gaze lingers, assessing and affectionate in equal measure, as though committing this moment to an eternal ledger. Then, with a playful glint that does not quite diminish her divinity, Safrin winks. "I shall be watching," she says lightly, though the promise carries weight enough to anchor continents. "From above. I am curious to see how you shine."
Starlight gathers around Safrin's form once more, brightening until her edges blur into brilliance. In a soft rush—like a constellation collapsing into itself—she vanishes, leaving behind only drifting motes of silver light that fade slowly into the twilight air.
'till you do. 'till it's true.
