Douma sat on what looked like a bean bag in a prayer room, quietly murmuring words of hope and wisdom to his followers in distress.

Honestly bored, he cooled himself with a golden fan while his follower rambled on. He eventually got too board and absorbed them.

Douma looked over his shoulder, turning his back to the door as he heard a knock, then the creak of the door opening.

“Ah, I wasn’t expecting a visitor!” He smiled and closed his rainbow eyes.