Sekhmet. The name was everything he had expected and more. When she had spoken it, he had found himself relaxing despite the tension elsewhere. Had Menkhet, he wondered, been named from the same origin as Sekhmet’s own name? The names were both sharp, like a blade in one’s mouth. Ah, it did suit them both.
He nodded knowingly, in understanding. As much as he liked the feel the name – he made his mouth move to say it but kept the word itself silent – he could not say it. He wondered then, with his eyes roaming down her, if he might be able to indulge in more private quarters. Even Cuirass saying the name aloud felt taboo, though under the circumstances Kweku could not entirely blame him for wanting to try it.
Her next words though? Well, Kweku had taken a moment to register them fully. He had nodded again, as if in understanding, though they hadn’t really reached him. He had simply looked at her abdomen, and then to her with a smug kind of pride. Their four children had all been born strong and had grown only stronger since. He’d never considered himself capable of being proud of his own blood and yet, Sekhmet - how strange to think her name – had been everything he had needed for that.
Then, Cuirass spoke, and looked at him. That had been when the words had really reached him and he had given an ahh of understanding beneath his breath. His eyes danced over to Cuirass with curiosity, sizing him up once more just as he had done seasons and seasons ago. He smirked. Well, Cuirass was decent enough if not on the...smaller size, with a more fox-like mind than wolf. Cunning. Then again, Sekhmet held cunning in favor. At least Kweku would understand the appeal – in his homeland, monogamy had not always been the norm after all. In fact, he likely had many half-siblings, from mother and father alike. Even his own children had half-siblings. It would be folly to never experiment with different genes in order to produce the healthiest children.
He had been quiet for too long though, that much he knew. He rose with a shrug of his shoulder, his eyes back on Sekhmet. "You made a sound decision,” he said with a flick of his muzzle towards Cuirass. "He has sired healthy children.” Spoken as if it explained his approval, though in truth, Kweku had felt a spur of jealousy. What if none born were his own? Or those that came from him were born frail, or deformed? He snorted and dismissed the thought.
"The present den is small, however,” he said with a more honest grin, and a more challenging one at that. "If you wish to lay claim to its warmth, I shall not take that challenge so easily.” It was the least he could do for whatever part of his pride had been bruised. Besides, he wanted Sekhmet to know it too – he might be fine with shared relations, but he’d be more than happy to fight to keep her private company all to himself.