Sarah prays

Sarah had traveled to the shrine of rae and his herald. It was beautiful, radiant even, and while she didn't really worship the gods, what was there to worship, she did want to see what will happen. Will they answer or will they ignore her. This will decide her life, she expected no answer but hey it never hurts to try.

"Frey, or Rae, I am bad at prayer but I wanted to ask for like a magic sword please. I don't exactly pray much so forgive me for the lack of performance."  She didn't have much reason to pray before. However, she did want a better life, and a magic sword would help her out.  She didn't know what the magic sword would do for her. Make her a mastery over nature, immune to poison, grant her unbelievable strength. Well she was already strong, look at her muscles.

Frey

"I do not consider myself an egotistical deity, but I will admit, it has been some time since one arrived empty-handed to my shrine." Naked and shimmering in flecks of gold, Frey's nature aspect appears with the smell of petrichor and a soft, blossom filled breeze. Flowers bloom at their feet, and they remain standing before the shrine, tall and bright eyed, gazing down at Sarah.

"No offering, and you want something from me?" Their brow furrows. "What use would you have of a magic sword? I do not decide what elements will be bound into such a weapon - that must come from yourself." Whether immunity, strength or some other ability, it isn't Frey's decision to make.

There are few things that made Sarah lose her shit. A dumbass, a farmer who didn't know they had rotted grains and of course a god speaking to her. Sarah losing her shit was a humorous affair. Her mouth was agape opened, her eyes widened as she looked at the deity before her. The deity was beautiful, radiant. Sarah was excited, aroused by the sight. However, remarking that the deity had a fine ass was a quick way to get smited, well to Sarah that is. Nevertheless, Sarah did have huge balls. And since she had huge balls, she would be honest.

"Frey, I am merely a simple farmer. What offerings could I give you? I am no king, demigod, nor some great warlord. I am just a woman who maintains a farm. I surely don't have the ability to provide sacrifices that would please a deity."

"As for a sword, I want a sword to defend my farm, and to earn my fortune. It will allow me to properly adventure. This world is dangerous, and I am just a weak farmer. I am no legend, or a hero, nor do I have their gifts."

Frey

Frey laughs at that, a musical sound like mid-morning birdsong or the rush of a sudden downpour. Crouching now before her, their elbows on their knees, they tilt their head. "You are a farmer," they agree. "What better offerings to a deity of nature than the fruits of your labour when tending to it?" Fresh berries, cream, honey, golden sprigs of wheat or herbs - all are the sorts of things tantamount to Frey. This side of them, anyway.

As for the sword, they tilt their head and consider, nodding. "That is true enough. Even so, if you'd like it to be more than a mere sword, I will need to know what exactly you'd like it to do, sweetpea. Unless a sharp blade is enough for you? Because in that case, I can provide the necessary requirements."