He wondered, briefly, how Erebos would drive her. Erebos had always been a man of silence and Latin and so, Elohim could not help but imagine the frustration Aster might face when the time came for her to meet Elohim's counterpart. Ehiyeh, too, he pondered though a part of him turned away from the idea, desperate to shield her from any intrusion or threat. In that moment, he understood the enormity of Aster's nature: if she had been able to crack open a part of him, he was hesitant to know how much she might break Ehiyeh apart. For all intents and purposes, she was to be kept separate from that part of his life. It was an unusual thing to feel, something he had to shake away and he was glad for her tantrum then, so that she may have been distracted.
And so, he had begun to exist in two worlds, a shadow and somebody else, somebody both real and fake.
"Pretty speech and secrets, too," he quipped, glad for the distraction as he eased his features back into nonchalence, "Would you risk such a thing just to say you won?" He toyed and she toyed back with much more seriousness than he had anticipated; so much so that he stepped back with a snort, his eyes narrowed in perceived slight as she offered to...pee on him. Her laugh only brought another snort of disatisfaction for him though such a thing only lasted a mere moment before she marked him in the way he had expected, the way customary to his family: possession, claim, an archaic thing. He had hardly expected her to do so though he had hoped and yet, he took such an action straight faced despite the flicker of instinct that made his skin crawl.
"They may grow curious of a Glorall defector," he offered in order to distract himself, having now pulled away from her with a flick of an ear. Whereas she had committed a sin, he had been the serpent to offer it. At his core, he considered for a moment, he was just as rotten as his father's deeds. Even death smelt sweet in the early days.
Yet he revelled in it. He reveled in her slyness and coyness, his lip twitching in amusement as she attempted to slide into bed with his secrets. Yet, he stood stern and shrugged away her attempts, feigned disinterest as he watched her through his peripherals. "My father seldom wages war for his own blood," he offered, the words framed with the hint of secrecy, a bone thrown to Aster if she ever desired to find something juicier to chew on - Abel, after all, was a curious case - "but how would your king feel letting a defector in, a wolf who will soon claim to be in search of home while sniffing out the secrets of other packs? What if I am here to sniff for secrets too?" His face had fallen into something serious then, something testing as he prodded at the inner workings of Aster, her strengths and weaknesses. He meant no harm by it and yet, he wished to make her stronger lest a real snake come crawling some day.