Snippet #2195537

Dewi glared down at the wench at his side. The only reason he didn't berate her for her insolence was because... well... he needed her. Besides, it had been awhile since he had been offered so beautiful a companion. As they left the room images of the Jewelled City and the silver box sang in his tiny, unhorned head, begging him to hoard them, to take them away to be used only by him. He practically drooled at the thought of having all those shiny objects all to himself, all to him, all Dewi's. The shiny pubs would be a problem to move as a human, but the box would be no problem. It sang in his mind, *begging* him to take it and hide it. He had misjudged the box, how beautiful it was, in his initial fury. It was often this way, but the townspeople would always bring him gifts as recompense.

Of course! He had people right here! He shook his head in a failed attempt to rid himself of thoughts of shinies and glitters to face Loki. "Thou mortal!" he called ahead, "Thou shalt return and fetch yon box of silver for me," he ordered, stopping abruptly to wait for the male to do his bidding.