Not for His Sake

The mortals never ceased to amaze. "I am not Frey, darling one." Safrin's voice echoed softly outwards as the candle suddenly became lit, but not by fire. Instead it was pure light that seemed to sit on the end of the wick, gently turning and dancing like a star shining through the atmospheric distortion. "I require no gifts..Nor must you kneel before me." When Phoebe raised her gaze, she would see the goddess standing before her. Bathed in an ethereal sort of radiance, despite the time of day Safrin appeared cloaked in the dusk, with points of starlight shimmering throughout her hair. "Bastien..." She mused, the word sounding gentle on her tongue, though Safrin's teeth clicked together with a not-so subtly amount of hostility. "Phoebe Steadman.." The goddess said, as if plucking the girl's name out of the sky. "I have seen you. Heard the words you said to him in the street. You could not match your fire, and yet he was the one with the apparent conviction." Her painted lips twisted sweetly. "But Bastien has picked his own path to walk, no matter what apologies you might offer on his behalf. Still, it is sweet of you to come." Safrin the devil is not as black as he is painted