[b]O'Menus[/b][hr]
[indent][indent]O'Menus' stoic expression remained, impatience growing as the Gods and Flower interacted. They had their goal, the little priestess knew where to go and as such they should move. Still he would be patient or as patient as he could. Her incessant tearing up, her whimpering, it was all becoming hard to listen to. As God of the Sun, he represented all that it was. A harsh and yet true rendition of the reality of the world. He never shied away from the truth but he supposed, if it meant moving things along, he could be a nice source of warmth. 

"Then guide us, Flower. Our time here is over," he told her matter of fact, standing firm and facing away from the God's resting place and the dead knight's corpse. O'Menus threw his mind to the the white blade and carried it by the handle, being sure to place his claim on the piece of treasure. "A treasure worthy of the Sun God," he said to himself.[/indent][/indent]