He seems to accept that I am indeed a creature to be admired. I am perfection in wolven form, a goddess here for only a time before I return from elsewhere I came. Many are dull and dumb in this world, but few and really see the mastery and acknowledge it so quickly. At least, that is what I gather from his eyes and how he spoke and regarded me at first. Already he has some sort of potential to please me- but that is just initial potential. He still has horrendous fur. That is something I cannot fix.


Regardless, he could be a threat, and this is my son's land. I have to remain vigilant that it remains intact in his name. I know what why he was here, but I was going to find out, and if he is not worthy or does not satisfy me, I will chase him away. His questions are odd, more like no stranger dare speak to me that way and so blunt. He speaks though, and it appears he is an assassin of the weak. The old and sick perhaps.

"What is this giver of last testaments that you speak?" I ask in my thick latin accent, my copper eyes touched with blue flecks still never leaving his form as I remain tall and proud upon the land. His words remind me of Heyel and the Angels, but he does not look like any Angel. However, this is something I must investigate further.

He asks me of my calling. I stare at him with unmoving features. I do not give any notion of my thoughts, but I do not know what he refers to. I have improved upon my common tongue greatly, however it is still vile, and some use it so differently than others. His question made no sense. Calling out is usually what one did when they are close to death, in pain, or in need of help as they are unable to deal with danger.

"I is having no calling, Quid ergo quaeris, quae sensu quaestiones?" (why do you ask such meaningless questions?) I ask, my eyes narrowing slightly, observing if he knows the true tongue or not.

"Why are you here?" I ask, my shoulders rolling forward slightly in a forward claim upon my land, the land of my son.