silent night, starlit night

Safrin Safrin has been worshiped throughout the ages. Cults have been dedicated to her. In bloodier times, men were slaughtered, blood ran like rivers down pillars and altars in her name. There were the quieter times too, of music and song. Plays, chants, murals. She has seen it all, been worshiped in almost every way, but all of the races in their own way... ..and still she loves it. Vanity is never a thing the deity has denied herself to be. "In the earliest days, they truly did believe that with enough trickery and distraction, I might indeed forget. That they might actually capture the sun." Safrin says with a light laugh, smoothing down her skirts as she curls her legs beneath Amalia.