He didn't often find his way to the mirror without Ashamin's summons. After all, he was the Haruspex, not Öde. This was never something Öde failed to remember or notice, though his anger over it had receded as the seasons turned. It granted him less responsibilities, time which he used to cultivate his own god and his own disciples, something which he was now grateful for. Besides, Ashamin had more than proved his worth for the title, and Öde could at the very least respect him for those capabilities, though he'd never satiate the hunger for the spot, if only for the honor and the power it wielded, so he could never truly accept Ashamin. Still, he did not envy him any more the way he used to, especially not after witnessing a few of these mirror meetings. Time was... a difficult god to commune with, for anyone. Better to let Ashamin handle that weight so Öde could learn of his mistakes, something which the God of the Spark was more than happy to point out.

Öde did sometimes come here though, alone, as he did now.

His cloven hooves echoed with mild noise as he moved into the cavern where the mirror resided. The sloping maw of the mountain that he stode into was dark, damp, and cold - no different from the rest of the Basin's abodes. This one though, this one always sent a shudder down his spine when he walked into though, as if he could feel the power of their god emanating from within.

Öde paused, a shiver roving across his body with a visible quiver of dark flesh. His groin jumped, invigorated by the promise of a god's dominion. The sensation lent a rough grin to settle onto his muzzle, and with a new speed he stepped further in, caution thrown to the wayside as he embraced the familiarity instead.

His body swayed like a boat at dock as he halted suddenly in front of the mirror. He peered at its glossy surface, at his eerie lack of reflection (which was rather disappointing because he wished to revel in his appearance at this moment). His breath hitched, excitement demanding he tread carefully, exhales included. Another trembling sensation coursed through him and as if shocked he withdrew into himself, the crest of his neck sloping like a dark wave. He was still for a moment, his heart beat the only betrayer, until at last he released the hesitation in a breathy rush. Starving, his lungs pulled in the air rapidly, his head swimming - giddy. Furtively he glanced around, but finding no other soul, he set his attention back on the mirror.

"Hello, lovely," he whispered with velvet tones, his plush muzzle reaching out to touch the edges of the immortal structure. As his whiskers brushed it his heart and his dick jumped, and he laughed silently with exhilaration. Something so powerful, right here in front of me, he thought, suspended both in awe and greed. Gently he traced more of its edges with his whiskers, growing bolder with each passing moment. Flushed with a warmth, caught up in this secret moment, he extended himself. It wasn't even something he was aware of; just a primal reaction to this lust for influence.

He pressed in closer, letting the soft edge of his muzzle press against the mirror. He stiffened, but didn't stop, pressing against it until miniature wrinkles appeared on his lips. His eyes fell to half-lidded ecstasy, the decreased sense of his vision granting him greater awareness of his touch. The mirror was smooth, and it chilled him, a sharp contrast against the heat he exuded. His breaths puffed, his blood coursed.

Slap. His belly trembled where it was struck, his groin pulsated. He leaned his head against the mirror's surface, and his other one smacked his stomach once more. His body convulsed at the feeling, and the tempo increased as his lips pulled taut in a pleased snarl.
Slap.
Slap!
SLAP!
SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

A muffled sound escaped him with a visible breath of steam while his locked legs quavered.
"More," he begged, and his haunches bunched and gathered beneath him. Deftly he lifted onto his hind feet, his knees pressed near and against the mirror. He reached for it, into it. The sensation, so cold and wrong, engorged him with a warm pleasure. His lion's tail thrashed with energy while he continued to move into it with a rhythm that gradually increased into a furious grind.