Soft, muffled cries and struggling grunts reached his ears first before anything else in the room did. Not that Osdos even wanted to be there in the first place, for it took sheer will and concentration to even begin to consider leaving his chambers, long having grown bored of the monotonous sacrificial offerings that he was given. However, he knew it must be done regardless of how much effort he put into pulling away from the following he had gathered, knowing that the last thing he also needed was for them to dwindle and disappear, truly leaving him with nothing if that were to happen.

Sharp, clawed fingers dance along the armrest of the throne he was seated at within his temple, eyes boring down at the kneeling figures before him that had been dragged into the room mere moments before. His followers went through the normal routine, tearing off the sacks they used to cover the victim’s faces one by one. He saw the familiar tears, the familiar anger, and confusion as each cover was taken off before pausing as the final one was pulled off the last sacrifice.

There, you knelt, brows pinched and furrowed in a way that didn’t replicate anger or fear, no, mere annoyance was the expression he could read from you. His eyes flicker over your appearance, fully taking in the sore thumb before him compared to the other sniveling fools, leaning a little more forward in his seat to observe you better. For the first time in centuries…something in his heart stirs, a flicker of a flame that slowly turned into a fire, threatening to burst into a consuming blaze. He raises a hand, clawed finger angled towards you as he parts his lips to speak.

His voice was ghostly and tender as the words spilled from his opened throat, a clicking sound as sharp teeth clattered together down his body, “That one…bring them forth to me.”