Frey
A rich breeze rustles through the trees around Lisbeth as she prostrates herself, and a few blossoms come loose to tickle around her hair and skin. The petals from the blossoms slowly form the deity before her, golden skinned and kneeling, as if they are together in prayer, rather than a mortal and her deity.
"I will always be an advocate of free will," Frey all but purrs to her, plucking up one of the peaches to roll it between long fingers. "And so if it is my blessing you seek on the behest of my Nightingale, then it is easily given. Go and fight, Lisbeth Elliea. Do what your heart commands of you."
"I will always be an advocate of free will," Frey all but purrs to her, plucking up one of the peaches to roll it between long fingers. "And so if it is my blessing you seek on the behest of my Nightingale, then it is easily given. Go and fight, Lisbeth Elliea. Do what your heart commands of you."
