[b]Hexagonal Chamber - O'Menus[/b]
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[indent][indent]The feel of him bruising flesh was instant and satisfying. The fact that his ordain action to wake the girl had not been carried out, had demanded he strike again. Without thought two more quick-kicks were loosed then he noticed them. The martyr, the rescuer, and the observers. Even if his original target had been cradled up by other, softer Gods... old habits struggled to be contained. The little heat he could muster was beginning manifest itself in the room.

"Cease this you idiots, I need answers. Now. Our only clues is her and this room. The latter of which leads to her," he explained between gritted teeth, muscles tense and fingers taunt. He had the mind to give the Time Goddess one more kick but stopped himself. The idea that his meager strength, which at one point could subjugate the very sun, had not completely cremated the object of his disdain was frustrating. That, coupled with the rallying Gods opposing his methods brought him to a reluctant pause. 

Thoughtfully, though assuredly he must've appeared on the edge of a cold and bloody war, O'Menus stepped away from the others and relented. He wouldn't admit aloud but it was Aureia who had cemented his decision. If not the only God he considered of value, so to say. He crossed his arms over his chest, raised his eyes to the slumbering mortal, and became all the words, feelings, and definitions for Ruler.

Directing his low voice to Aureia, O'Menus replied, "Those pieces were less gold and more scraps when I awoken." Then, "You all have three chances, Aureia. Afterwards, I'll wake her myself." Unknowingly, lest they were particularly observant, O'Menus begun to direct and store heat to the palm of his left hand.[/indent][/indent]