04-06-2015, 09:23 AM
A frown tugs at the corners of his lips as he pulls Falyx and Varys back to stand before him, naked in his eyes. They needed each other too much and while the codependence had somewhat charmed his wife, Osiris is not. He does not rise from his seat as he regards them, he merely taps his long nails against the ivory armrest before he says, “two souls burdened by each other’s weight cannot bear the weight of a kingdom too.” With a dismissive wave of a slender hand they find themselves outside the Deserts borders.
He brings Camrynn to him next and when she appears before him, laughter glints in his eyes and he tells her, “some call me the Lord of love, they say I am one of the kindest of all the gods.” He waves a sleeved arm to his underworld, where monstrosities lived in luxury and just outside this room lay a fertile, dead world. He was many things, he is death and he is rebirth, “but even I like a good fight every now and then, too.” Because holding a crown is not always clean, the dirt and grime had its way of building over the years. He rises but does not step down from his vaulted seat, “why do you truly seek this crown?” The words are not spoken from his lips but they appear in her ears nonetheless and it is a statement rather than a question, because he does not wait for an answer before he continues, “Go on, girl,” he says, because her magic is nothing but a child’s gift to the eternality of a god. He will allow her to pass, allow Isis the final decision to this one – because while she is everything he would liken to a queen, there is still uncertainty to who or what really motivated her to seek this crown. She is transported back to the Deserts and now she stands beneath the former king’s oak tree. “And do not make a fool of my judgment,” Osiris warns as a crossed crook and flail etch themselves in gold across her chest.
When he calls Pevensie to him he is leaning against one of the golden pillars, weaving an ostrich feather between his black-green fingers. This one carried the Deserts on her skin, years of it. A soft smile tilts his lips and as he floats, rather than walks to her side. “You keep coming back to the Deserts, time and time again,” he says, “why?” He asks. He moves past her and stands at a gold bust of Horus, he stares at it for a long while before he turns his head back to her. “Your benevolence will be looked at as weakness and it can be– don’t prove my doubts right,” and as he looks away she finds herself standing next to Camrynn beneath the old dragon’s tree - an ostrich feather tied into her mane.
He brings Lucrezia next and the god-king wears a smile for her too, for she also brings the stories of the Deserts on her heart. There are others too, but the Deserts call to him the strongest. In her, Osiris knows her intentions are certain. He stands and makes his way to her side, running his fingers over her hip, “you are young but you understand, don’t you?” His fingers leave her skin and he is at once in his seat again, twirling a glittering crook, “you would make a good queen, wouldn’t you?” He asks, holding her gaze with unblinking eyes rimmed in green kohl. “Try harder,” he says, before she joins the other two mares beneath the tree, wearing a gold sphinx on her hip.
Degradation finds himself outside the borders of the Deserts with the name “Flintfoot” scrawled in hieroglyphics across his skin in kohl, over and over again.
OOC- Please be patient for the last round and obviously you don't have to keep the markings, etc if you don't want.