Meetings were an endless monotony he preferred to ignore, disregard and neglect. He favored the chiseled graves of the wintry corridors, the grim expanse of tainted pathways, the runes of cold catacombs and the ruthless, unrelenting, glacial sovereignty. He relished the swift incantations of his necromancy, building, brewing and beguiling, and didn’t savor the moments where he was forced to keep it locked and sequestered in his oubliette of sin and diabolical schemes. Gatherings imposed regulations upon his hide, where he had to listen from the ramparts, where he had to slither in the shadows, where he had to listen to inane drawling, where he had to remain away from the world, cold, isolated and desolate over and over again. Unfortunately, this assembly ushered the notion that he had to impart words with Psyche, for actions had been committed across their borders that she likely remained unaware of. The death of a trespasser was easy to fix, perhaps some hellhounds would find a feast of inept carcass delicious and ambrosial, but the other, a Throat prisoner, would be difficult to miss. So his motions, depraved, degenerate, cadaverous contortions of flesh, sinew and bone, undulating muscles rippling chords of demonic distinction, removed himself from the pillars of caverns and copses, and traversed amongst the Basin’s enigmatic, twisting whims. Upon arriving, his severe stare rendered upon the group, found no striking blue, no vivid rain, and thereafter noted the Empress, listened to her signal the mass of horned beings of the current tensions and hostilities and the contract struggling to form. The Weaver’s jest (did he look off, or had the General simply not laid eyes on him in a while?) only slightly humored the beast, and he gave forth a sanction of dry, chilling words rolling across the bleak sky. “That would be suitable.” He drifted closer to Psyche then, ignoring the others sauntering in, to convey recent circumstances. A hushed, nearly inaudible whisper, drawn from his mouth and meant for her ears only, unless she longed to convey it to the rest of the harem, pushed forth in his nonchalant, insouciant vapor. “Two Throat members recently trespassed. One is dead, one is prisoner.” Did she wish to use this creature to her advantage? Perhaps one could press the inept, the weak and the foolish into breaking apart some secrets, some specious decrees.

[OOC: His statement to Psyche is only meant for her ears, unless she wishes to share it with the entire herd. Thank you!]