The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page.
He is accosted by nearly perfect speech in his mothertongue and this alone impresses him, makes him stop his panted ranting and nervous bellowing voice. He listens instead, makes no more demands and lets her say her piece as she was asked to. It is clear that over time she has grown to resent authority over herself from any but herself. It makes his nerves itch, to be sure, having come from a place where he was one of the highest among the living. Still, her voice is tense and cautious and her whole being seems to be barely able to hold back the tide of rage welling within.
His blue eyes are considerate and thoughtful as she continues onward, less natural now that she had to think out her words rather than instinctively use them as she had done prior. Now he had explanation, now he had an idea as to her purpose, an explanation also of the rumors that had put her in the same place as an attacked youth. The mention also of the soul shattering - that pricks his ears in academic interest for but a moment before he is back to obedient silence for her outpouring of words.
He finds it strange that she confesses murder to him, the word holding more guilty meaning than simply ‘I have killed’. He listens onwards even as she talks down to his chest like someone chastised and uncomfortable. He sits as she does this, unwilling to be looming above her like a parent when she is far more grown than when he had first met her.
“My name is Sekhmet. If you walk away I will not hunt you, but not even you can stop me from seeking revenge for all that was taken from me.”
He almost ignores the latter portion of her words entirely. There is no point to them, her offer of letting him go hardly a threat and her promise for revenge able to be dealt with later. “Sekhmet. Goddess of War and Rage, Sandstorms that eat beasts whole and Sunlight that burns you to ash. I am Atum, God of beginnings, of all that is and will ever be, Father of Kings and creator of all who name themselves my people.” It is all so formal that she could have heard the ancient purpose of this naming. He acknowledges her as equal, both in language and in standing - though there is a glimmer of regret and distrust there too.
“The goddess for which you are named was tamed by the son of the god who gave me mine. He tricked her away from her vengeance against mortal kind. I do not wish your vengeance stolen from you. What I want from you is the reverence of a student to her teacher, for you to learn and grow into the mighty creature your name even proves you were meant to be.”
It is more complicated sentences, so he waits in case some meanings escaped her. He sighs, then, settling his eyelids shut and murmuring. “I apologize for my anger. It is hard for one such as me to know that you have put yourself in peril and I must fear for your wellbeing. I do not often find myself attached to those I investigate or teach. Life is too fleeting for such foolishness, yet here I am bellowing at you like I have a right to be angry.”
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