Osiris stood outside the ceremony site, a cigarette smoldering between two fingers. His features were set into a ferocious glare and he stared down the gathering crowd. It wasn’t even the cure itself he took issue with, he had realized earlier that day. A magical cure for supernatural powers was, in itself, fascinating. That was what got him here in the first place; sheer curiosity. No, It was the ungrateful idiots who actually wanted to be cured that he took issue with.What kind of neanderthals would choose to give up immortal youth, power, and strength just to be reduced back to nothing more than a measly human. He spat on the ground in front of him in disgust as more spectators passed by him. Fucking pathetic. The more and more he thought about the cure, the angrier he became. Osiris usually held his fellow supernaturals in the highest of esteem, regardless of species, but the ones sitting in there, awaiting their miracle cure? They were lower than scum. As his anger peaked, he flicked his still burning cigarette into the mass of people gathered. He watched somebody panic and flail as the hot embers hit their skin. When he turned away from the scene, someone was staring at him, giving him some sort of look at he didn’t appreciate. “The fuck are you looking at, eh!? I don’t have any peanuts, might as well throw something at this damned circus of fools and mongrels.”