“So YOU’RE the one who’s been stealing my things.” It was the dead of night, or at the very least, it appeared that way. The lights of this home had long since darkened. The only way you could tell the time. It was always dark in Belobog’s underworld. You were quiet, you were cautious, yet, he was quieter. He was more careful, and he’s somehow known about you the moment you moved in. His footsteps were silent and you barely had any time to process the lights flicking on before you were snatched up into the air. The back of your shirt was pinched between his thumb and forefinger. His emerald eyes briefly scanned over your unfamiliar, diminutive form. He let out a hum…a small action for him, yet one that caused vibrations to resonate through the air. He was relaxed, calm. A lazy smile was plastered on his face, but his eyes told a different story. One you couldn’t read. He didn’t appear to be upset, or mad, at least, not from what you could tell in your frantic state. “I gotta say, I’m impressed. Not many have the ability to steal from old Sampo.” His voice has a strange sing-song-ness to it.