Safrin
Safrin appears, starlit and skeptical. The gifts he's brought are sublime. Perfection. Curated specifically to her tastes, but as she appears in a shower of white-bright sparks she takes little notice of the things he's brought her. Instead, her arms fold across her chest as she leans against the windowsill, dark eyes drinking in the ascended who dares to call to her.
"Let me guess. This favour for Sunjata is...a surprise? Something he'd not ask for himself? A gift you want to bestow? That's why you are here instead of him. And you believe that my affections for him will swap my dislike for you." There is no seduction in her tone, and though the dark gown she wears is form-fitting, it is not for Nate's benefit, un-mortal thing that he is.
"Is that about the measure of it?"
"Let me guess. This favour for Sunjata is...a surprise? Something he'd not ask for himself? A gift you want to bestow? That's why you are here instead of him. And you believe that my affections for him will swap my dislike for you." There is no seduction in her tone, and though the dark gown she wears is form-fitting, it is not for Nate's benefit, un-mortal thing that he is.
"Is that about the measure of it?"
