Interlude with Myth

The birdsong in the glade rose to a raucous chorus as Frey appeared amidst the budding greenery. Where they stepped, life was infused anew into the plants around their feet. The grass grew in wild and untamed bushels, flowers popped, their petals spreading wide and suggestively, and the sounds of animal life around—truly the sound of animals fucking—happily sung the god's arrival. Appearing with a kaleidoscope of features, Frey would look to Caiside as the most perfected version of whatever inner fantasies the man carried. Its gender was fluid, shifting seamlessly but always pleasingly, Frey's remaining features whatever would arouse the Attuned the most. Indeed, Caiside would feel an unmistakable attraction to the deity regardless of whether he wanted to or not. Naked as they often were, Frey reached up to pluck a stem of grapes magically from the air, popping one into their mouth and crushing it with a suggestive pop. "How flexible you are." The god observed, their voice a sultry chorus. Leaning casually against a tree, their hip melding against the bark, Frey's enigmatic gaze drifted lazily over Caiside. The man had shucked his robes, but not all of his clothes. With a smile, Caiside would find himself as naked as the god was. Feeling particularly charitable now that the colder and deadly months had come and gone, Frey picked up the silver ring and lifted it to their nose. Smelling something that Caiside could be sure that his mortal senses could not have picked up, Frey turned their gaze upon him. "You have your audience, hon. What are you going to do with it? And remember, I do not like to be bored."