As the god of desire, Slaanesh was least able to restrain their own desires. Delicious souls were like the most potent drugs, feeding their addiction.
They waved a hand, and a drop of energy fell onto the exceptionally expensive carpet in their magnificent palace. Flesh soon began to grow and swell, taking the shape of a Keeper of Secrets.
Losek stood there blankly, like a puppet.
The enormous Slaanesh (I originally wanted to describe Slaanesh's appearance, but the more I thought about it and wrote, the harder it became to get past the censors) sat upon their magnificent seat and elegantly snapped their fingers. A spark of awareness appeared in Losek's eyes, and he awoke.
Having experienced death once, Losek's eyes filled with joy. Though he was a Daemon and would slowly re-form and revive in the Warp even after dying, that process took a great deal of time.
Once his excitement subsided, Losek raised his head to look at Slaanesh on the throne. Reverence and fear drove him to his knees. "Thank you, great master. Thank you for resurrecting me with your mighty power. I will serve you with even greater devotion."
"This is your reward. You did very well. You let me experience something new and taste a new, delicious soul." A voice blending male and female tones echoed in Losek's ears.
He recalled everything he had done before his death, sacrificing over ten million souls. He had never expected that to earn his master's favor. He would have to do even better next time.
"No, no, no, not those souls." Slaanesh seemed to know what Losek was thinking. "That one, that strange creature named Hols. The little shapeshifter perched on that Ork Warboss's shoulder."
"Huh? That little thing?" Losek was even more astonished. He had only just