Two years was frankly longer than he had expected, and he gave his hostess a nod of respect for her tenacity and ingenuity. Her implication of how she'd managed to do so was a little harder to decipher, the curse affecting her voice making it difficult to tell when she intended innuendo versus when her words were merely twisted by the forced inflection. His expression turned to solemn empathy when he decided that she did, indeed, mean what it had sounded like. By then, though, she was already moving on to talk about Frey, and he tilted his head in curiosity. Curiosity that she returned as her explanation continued, and he quirked his lips in a wry smile at her questioning tone.
"Who can say for certain what the motives of a deity may be," he murmured, having no better answer for her. "I've not met Frey myself, and from the rumors I've heard I count that lucky." He was not a particularly sexual being, and would hardly appreciate being forced into it by anyone, god or otherwise. "But I'm glad they gave you the gift of freedom from that mark. Carrying it with you all this time could not have been easy." Not in hiding, nor in the constant memories it would have elicited every time she saw or felt it against her skin.
"Well," the bard murmured, lips quirking into a smile. "I can't argue with them about that! A little selfishness is only healthy. How can you take care of others if you haven't taken care of yourself first?" He sipped his drink, contemplating all that she had said for a moment, and then turned his blue eyes on her with a curious brow arched in question. "Is the punishment meant to be a permanent one, then? Is there no way to lift it?"
"Who can say for certain what the motives of a deity may be," he murmured, having no better answer for her. "I've not met Frey myself, and from the rumors I've heard I count that lucky." He was not a particularly sexual being, and would hardly appreciate being forced into it by anyone, god or otherwise. "But I'm glad they gave you the gift of freedom from that mark. Carrying it with you all this time could not have been easy." Not in hiding, nor in the constant memories it would have elicited every time she saw or felt it against her skin.
"Well," the bard murmured, lips quirking into a smile. "I can't argue with them about that! A little selfishness is only healthy. How can you take care of others if you haven't taken care of yourself first?" He sipped his drink, contemplating all that she had said for a moment, and then turned his blue eyes on her with a curious brow arched in question. "Is the punishment meant to be a permanent one, then? Is there no way to lift it?"
