The god let a smile against scarred lips as his boat clashed against the sands of the central island. The dead anaconda hybrid that was once hidden by cloth now revealed, body curled up eerily like he was sleeping if it weren't for the fact his head seemed completely separate from his body.

With a heavy yet gleeful grunt Byraith clambered out of his boat, taking the hybrid with him hanging from a cloth hammock in the beast's mouth. He made his way to his home - a cave he cleared out at camp. Even set up a doorway for him to open and close with little issue. Practically knocking the door off it's hinges, the god entered his abode and set the hybrid against the table before him. Where would he have to start?

Taking a knife from the table he severed head from body, keeping it as his prize of hunting such an interesting creature. He would skin that later. Byriath worked with delicate precision for a violence-based god, placing meat into a flat pan over a fire so he would have food, bones set aside for decorations or the occasional bone-reinforcement on his axe, and the skin and fur left hanging by the door.

Humming, he took a leg bone and the knife, starting to whittle the bone down to a sharp end. Maybe he would fulfill the promise the hybrid gave him. Tell Medusa I love her. "A god keeps his promise." His voice was deep and gravel yet soft as he whispered into the warm air.



[align=center]"Speech" 'Thought'