It had been a long time since someone had truly interested him, not as an apprentice, but perhaps as an equal. The thought itself was tantalizing, sweet like honey, and Onias let his mind turn the thought over, salivating over it like a fresh kill. He did not react to her more dominating stature, letting his tail and head hang low as his orange eyes flickered over her in an appreciative manner. He was, perhaps more fox than wolf in these moments, sly and curious. Her inquiring noise and subsequent grin was matched with a crooked smile of his own, dangerously hungry but interested. There were few in this world, he thought, who could hold his attentions in such a way-- a precious few that he had ever devoted personal energy towards. The dark spirit at his heels demanded followers, but he was offered a modicum of freedom in choosing compatriots.

Onias stared up at her, orange eyes aglow with a ghoulish fire. His tail swished behind his narrow hips and he watched as she swayed, never keeping quite still. He wondered if it was some neurological defect or if, perhaps, there was something else that kept her from keeping quiet like the rest of them. The mimic, he thought, with his crooked grin growing a bit wider, might very well have a field day with the woman in front of him. Would his body sway, too, if he were to repeat her words? Or was her movements so wholly connected to who she was, that they might not be replicated. In a very different way from what some others might be, Onias was quite taken with the strange woman he'd met riverside.

After a moment, he raised his head, and though the world around them was full of the bright late spring sunlight, a sort of darkness filled the corners of his vision. "I am many things." He answered, his voice a low, rasping thrum. "To myself, I am the voice of the spirits that nip at my heels. To others, I am either an omen of Death or a bringer of truth." He tilted his head, his chest rising and falling in an even rhythm, fangs peeking from beneath his dark lips. What, he wondered, would he be to her? Perhaps simply a strange man she once met and yet, he found a kinship in her already. Onias gave a quiet chuckle, tilting his head towards the other side. There was an intrigue in the air that was almost palpable.

"What are you, then?" His tones were pressing, but with a subtle sort of twinge that turned it from a desperate plea into the tones of a man viewing something of a spectacle, simply a visitor on hallowed ground. Onias watched her movements carefully, with no indication that he cared much at all if she noticed him doing so. He had never been one to conceal his intentions.