Perhaps a few more seconds and she would have pressed onward, but the large beast showed himself. He was almost overwhelmingly white and Sekhmet almost snapped forward. It could have easily been the male who challenged her seasons back and she would have had her opportunity to deliver on her promise to him, but the fact the male had not immediately attacked her was enough to keep her from making a quick judgment. There was no effort made to speak to him, or question what he was doing. This wasn’t a situation she needed to question what he was doing or why he was here; this played more to the true questions. Even so, those questions and answers could be uttered without words. In silence, she studded him further something about him was strange and yet she was uncertain it was a bad thing.

An ear twitched as the white and crimson wolf spoke. Her opalescent eyes narrowed on the male as he asked about Asteraia. “I should. It is Mine. My lovely beasts. You have questions?” The common tongue was distasteful to her tongue, yet she still made an effort. While the male did not press into her space, he was close enough to clearly observe and even better to take in the scents he carried. He smelt faintly similar to a wolf she knew closely and so strange. The woman was certain she had never met this male before. “Aren’t you strange? You smell so similar to another and yet I have never met you. Maybe you weren’t spoken of. Probably a coincidence really, but I need to know; who are you? Where did you come from?” the ancient language rolled easily off the tongue, with a light rumble in her chest.

Moving her bodice to fully turn and face him, Sekhmet moved to sit on her haunches. While the multi-colored woman instinctively kept her throat protected, she did not feel threatened. There was little trust in strangers so she focused on the slightest movements the wolf made. If there was to be a fight she would defend herself. If there was nothing more to the strange beast, for his sake she hoped her interest would not wane because part of her still ached to fill the void in her stomach. On the bright side, she was looking for an easier meal but he did look rather filling. At the thought of taking a bite, there was a light growl akin to a purr that had slip unintentionally from her throat. Maybe now he would think her mad, and maybe that was a fair assumption by him.

Speaking English.
Speaking Coptic.