His breath hitches in his throat, trapped and squirming in his lungs as he waits for that reply, afraid even the slightest disturbance outward might break the fragile moment.
"Yes."

Relief slides out in a deep exhale as Öde embraces the shared space of his divine sovereign. If only the same could be said of his tightly wound muscles, of his body so stiff he seems obsidian rather than horse, carved out onto stiffened legs and wide eyes. Yes this entity is his god, but holy shit yes this is his god! An odd mixture of euphoria and panic competes for the roost inside Öde's soul, and in the wake of their war he is left a trembling, stammering idiot.

Oblivion is staring at him, and it feels as if all the color is going to drain out of his body, like those haunting eyes are going to carve holes into him where his blood can drain free- a machine ready for an oil change. Öde's mouth runs dry and it feels oddly enough like someone has stuffed fuzzy plants down it, filling him up and choking him with their moisture absorption prowess. Its enough to make him choke, a sound which rasps out like metal on stone just as his lord of darkness breaks the silence with the gravel of his baritone.

Öde straightens up, then quivers, because it has worked.

His prayers, those feverish mutterings offered in the dark and the half-breaths he takes beneath his audible words, they have succeeded in ways he never thought imaginable. His heart beats, or always was but now he notices it because it sings inside him with a furious flurry of mortal rhythm. "Thank you," Öde murmurs, his neck arching in a bow which drifts down to the girth between his forelegs. He feels himself, lower lip brushing under chest, and the discomfort which it brings he holds, a small token of suffrage for his almighty devil's desires.

He cannot help but wonder though, at what the Demon King means when he says not yet. "I am dead, aren't I?" It's odd how easy it was to say that, as if he weren't commenting on anything more noteworthy than the shape and color of the day's clouds. He is eerily calm with the fact, because he just knows that he is (dead), and accepting it is just natural really, because what else is there to do? "We're in your kingdom." His arrogance seeps in somewhat, as he is certain that he has made it to sit alongside the eternal company of his god and his throne of bones.