Osiris had never led a simple life, that's for sure, but one thing about being sent out on a godly mission from Pharaoh themselves? He didn't have to see his family anymore. Not that he didn't love them, care for them, miss them with all his heart, but Father... well, he'd never quite been good enough for Father. He was everything Osiris was not, despite trying, and even if he didn't voice the notes of his disappointment, his son heard the song in each side-ways glance and too-heavy-sigh. His son, the handmaid. He could hear his comments now, desperate, not angry, but trying to pull the young lion from his path; thats not even a mans title, and I raised you to be a warrior.

Osiris was glad to join his voice with the hymn, to pray himself into.... happiness? Peace? Distance, from those looks that spoke of a sires grief? He didn't know what it was he sought, but at the forefront of it all, Osiris would do his job. It was the one true thing that offered him joy, in which he felt less judged. Of course, he was, in a different and much more dangerous way, for many knew the sort of things that happened to servants that failed. He had been lucky, so many told him, his own mistake cost only him. Many didn't seem to understand that had he thought the Princess' life was in danger, he would not have hesitated.

His sharp, cold gaze opened to a sunny morning on a purple-lined island and the cutest little blonde face he'd ever had the pleasure of calling his boss. Sharp fangs displayed as he grinned up at Her, rolling onto his back and sticking out his tongue in a moment of goofiness.

After a moment, he joined in her new song to welcome the others to this new land and this new mission.