Ask Forgiveness, Beg Permission

Was it true the gods could always hear the mortals? What a pesky and uninteresting question. What was true however, was that the pendant Bastien wore was more than simply an emblem of the goddess. The shrine would appear as it had, candles softly burning and the feeling of weighty atmosphere lingering like a mist. But Safrin would not appear there. Instead, the artist would feel her finger tips like cucumber-cool pulses against his temples, one hand sliding across his chest as the goddess leaned him back from his position of supplication and back against her. Gently she cradled him like this as if she might tilt his head at any moment to plant a kiss on his cheek— —or snap his neck. With a whispered breath, the goddess disappeared from behind the artist to appear on the shrine wearing a garment created out of the cloth he'd just placed there. However instead of stagnant stars and images, the fabric had been subtly brought to life as if nothing that touched Safrin's skin could possibly remain still and lifeless. "A church.." The deity mused, the word leaving an unfamiliar taste in her mouth. It had been so long since the likeness of such had been established. In her experience they had to be watched very carefully lest her image be dragged through the muck. Still, Safrin was a vain creature and that Bastien had gone to such lengths after just one meeting was indeed encouraging. She knew—we won't get into how—about this little gathering. A pregnant woman and a boy who'd been toyed with by both Ludo and Frey? What they saw in him she didn't quite know, and the deity was inclined to believe that Vanya had only showed up because Ronin had. Nibbling her lip delicately, the goddess leaned forward, cascading eyes alighting on Bastien as a smile pulled at her full and painted lips. "And the meeting with the midwife?" She baited gently. Safrin The devil is not as black as he is painted