Antares looks on his marked equal without concern for the venom that spits in the form of sharp tone and harsh name-calling. He is blooded and battle tested, too confident in his ability to defend himself to be put off by a rational response of a guardian against a strange stallion making moves - albeit ended moves - on her charge. He was not small, was not weak, and was certainly not shy in his approach for all that he had kept a decent and appropriate distance.
"Both of you can slither back to where you came from, althaeabin." She is harsh, but as Atair approaches at a swift speed, he can understand the growth of the venom. He is perturbed that she’d be so sure of his evil intent - speaking more about her than him - but that is no reason to revile her over some surly behavior. He does not laugh at her, though, as his brother Aldebaran might. Nor correct her as Rigel would have. Atair’s presence gives him room for his overriding calmness - and room to tease Atair with the possible joy of finding a woman as he experienced in Sayyida.
Atair, for his own sake, looks at the situation with intrigue-- not as keen as his brother to be so utterly understanding. Her calling him a snake earns a irritated snap of his tail, but it is about all such words against him really could earn. He had his share of times of being a bit of a snake. War was a hard thing to be raised to be good at. It often meant larger or more numerous opponents than one could fairly battle on ones own. More of Atair’s irritation is aimed at his brother, The People’s Tongue spilling from him swiftly, growled at Antares and understandably chastised his matchmaking.
Sakhmet grows more irritated for the exchange, for their mere presence to be sure, though. He gives what he thought perhaps might offer a modicum of peace to his potential adversary. Rigel would have been proud, him curbing a fight rather than instigating one for once. Admission of imperfection was almost unheard of among royalty, but he was raised to fight side by side his warriors - and had more of a mind to civilian perception of ‘perfect rulers’ and their ‘perfect relatives’. Besides, if trust could be earned, then perhaps the honest approach to his own flaws could put her at ease.
Then he offers camaraderie in place of animosity, finding her as unreceptive as could only offend if it were not for the phrasing that Antares notes in time to stop Atair for taking offense at the smudge against his honor. “akhi, qrubama ladayha sbb...” and the cautioning tone leads to Atair’s reply being more tempered, if a little nonplussed sounding. The black brother steps himself forward one step to match with Skehmet’s own approach.
“Because in the face of two stallions, your warrior’s heart does not abandon your charge. Because you step forward towards the danger so that she does not have to. Because you bear the Crown of Sekhmet, even if you do not possess Antares’ own Mark of Menhit. Because it would be an honor.” He is stern, abraided to his warrior core, by her implied accusations and his inability to deny them entirely.
Eness chooses that moment to break through the presumptive, protective warriors - bidding her friend to calm herself and pressing her haunches back against her. Antares smiles at her, though Atair seems almost afraid to look in her direction - and if he had been human, she might have seen him blushing with her increased proximity - until she addresses him directly and he no longer has a choice. No, her beauty was not at all lost on him, for all his pretending, and his flared nostrils betray him and his weakness for the view she makes.
"I am Eness; they say it means queen of beauty or something along those lines."
“I would not have been surprised if that were your True Name,” it is clear that the words are spoken with reverence enough to imply the capital letters, “My brother has never so much as sniffed in a woman’s direction before and you both have gotten more attention than all of them combined in the span of two minutes.” It is enough to spur the black brother to baring his teeth and the laughing High Prince dodges to the side to avoid it with all the good natured teasing to be expected from one brother to another.
Her referencing of Sakhmet confuses them both, the two of them looking to one another with first puzzlement and then utter shock bleeds through and they snap to look back at them. “They did not dare, surely!” utterly outraged - he does not mean to call them liars, but the affront to Sekhmet was an offense few had survived in their own homeland. “It cannot be...” Antares sounds not only affronted but utterly disgusted by the outright disrespect.
Eness does not force them to linger in those feelings long, though as she proposes how they might prove they were not the sacrilegious heathens who they had known thus far. “Our Desert is vast dunes that change and shift, but we possess ownership over the eastern border so that the dunes do flatten out to denser earth. There is one great oasis and many little ones that bless us with the freshness of water. Our birthplace was much the same and we thrive there.” Antares looks to Sakhmet, “And should you come, I will castrate or rend raw any creature that treats you less than Sekhmet’s own Chosen.”
Atair knows how little that might mean to a warrior who likely could perform such an office herself with enough backup. He looks to Sakhmet first, offering the lay of the land in reference to those she might expect to meet. “There is my brother Antares, Myself, my twin Rigel, and our youngest brother Aldebaran. There was a woman who came through called Indira, a mistress of my brother before he found his First Wife in Sayyida - who now lives with us.”
Then his black head turns to properly look to Eness, barely hiding the appreciation of her beauty in his sternness and intent to reassure with only stoic terms. “Our story is simple - We hail from a kingdom where we were once Crown Prince and Princes off our Mira, the Great One’s own First Wife. Antares was taught to rule as I was taught to be his General, Rigel was taught to be his Wise Man, and Aldebaran was taught to be his Harbinger. We came here to spare him a marriage to a First Wife that he had not met as a matter of State rather than Soul. If you can believe it, Sayyida was that Princess. Sayyida had left her own in fear of being wed to a Prince that she did not believe was meant for her for the same reason.”
He grins back at Antares, forcing the lily stallion to admit his own folly and joyous irony. “Of course it is obvious that Set had his fanciful way with the pair of us, of course. Sayyida and I met on the sands one night and were so taken by the swell of Qetesh and Min that we spoke our oaths without even hearing our names till the next morn.” He smirks, awkward and boyish rather than princely and noble. “She and I were quite shocked - but our love of our Desert’s own freedom made us choose to remain here and make of it what we may.”
“And what fools you have met with in the past are not here any longer.” The first brother starts, the second continuing, “We would be honored by the presence of two Ladies of the People. You need never fear being parted.”
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