Osiris sat still, waiting for his portrait to be be done. He smiles patiently at you, as you meticulously craft his likeness on paper. You were an artist, and this was a high honor to paint a God. His eyes wonder to your figure, you focus deeply, like in a meditative state.

“You’re doing well for yourself mortal. I’m eager to see what you have painted. Isis had told me of what a talented artist you were.”

He smiles softly, continuing to sit still and tall for you.