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since when was dad so religious? its a question that haunts sauron, almost as much as when's dinner.

sauron answered the call by trailing after it. even from a distance, he caught the smell of strangers. intruders? god — gods? — he hoped. but there wasn't a symphony of growls and snarls of war, the scent of blood waiting for him to slake before joining.
all of them, sat around a group of good-for-nothings. tension haunted the air but that meant nothing. the mist was more suffocating by itself than the current conversation. he caught talk of allyship and gifts and it took every muscle in his body not to roll his eyes. but he dipped his head in a bow, only introducing himself if necessary. sauron wasn't patient enough for diplomacy but he wasn't going to fuck this up either, if only because it'd make his father upset. his eyes only flick towards ezra over the einvald's shoulders, a brief alliance should things go wrong.

and there was pollux, entertaining these weirdos and speaking like she had a stick up her ass. sauron still would not speak to them, not when she already was. the only problem was that the idiot left dad and the white lady's flank exposed (author's note, they were fine). slithering to jaxxon's side, he couldn't resist whispering through a smirk ..we should let them take pollux as our gift. half joke, half serious — since she wants to mingle with them so badly.