The witchling sounded quite eager as he spoke to his friend. His eyes were shining with glee at the thought of finally being noticed by the Great One.
"Don't speak nonsense," said the other witchling. She looked around and then turned to look at the male witchling and reproachfully said to him, "You cannot speak of the Great One as you like." She looked nervous, as if she were worried that the Great One would appear out of thin air and turn them into rats or frogs as per her liking.
The man rolled his eyes but no longer spoke of the Great One. Instead, he turned to look at the siren who was tied to the pole and was hovering in the air. He said to the woman, "Can't I have a taste of him? I mean, he is going to be sacrificed anyway. Why don't we take a few vials of blood from him? I heard that the blood of a siren has magical abilities. It can even be used in strengthening our sigils."
As he spoke, he looked at the siren with a greedy look in his eyes.
