It is not the words he knows, but they are words enough from the Voice of Wosret. "You are two halves of a whole, and I am happy to see you together." She wouldn’t be able to make them whole, that would be left for Antares, but it was as good as he dared hope to hear. Yes, that instant magnetism was indeed answered - that his possessive nature had reason rather than attributing it to some inner demon. The fact that she had seen him laid bare and he had not disgraced his true Soul Sewn in doing so - because it had been to the one who was in fact that.

Then Sayyida lays down the Bride’s Price, what was normally left to fathers negotiating with the suitor who had fallen in love with his daughter -- but now was done as the woman herself to her future Husband as supplicant of the Voice of Wosret. "In respect of her wishes, you will remain celibate for the remainder of this season as proof of your devotion." There is not even a flinch in his gaze, for Eness had made that price already known and he was more than prepared to pay it -- he had once thought it a denial of anything he offered, but now understood her purpose had to be left master of her own body in her dying flames of Qetesh. "I shall pay it, or be forsworn."

He almost steps to her, his betrothed, aching to be nearer, but Sayyida is not done with him and he looks to jolt when he ceases his attempt to bring himself to her. "And she will have the Right of Golden Year for the next season unless she chooses to relinquish it." The smile on his face is still so much smaller than the expression in his eyes, his mask fitting poorly but still fitting in place. "I shall pay it, or be forsworn."

Sayyida explains to his intended what he has promised and there is some intimidation there, some worry as to how he might save her now that she was to be his, how he had shattered the last vestige of protection against his desires in the coming year. "Please," he whispers to her, pleading with her as Sayyida moves towards Rigel and it almost looks to him that Eness was growing fearful, "I have sworn my oath as your betrothed. I would not be forsworn for all the world."

"Hello again nujumi," she says in that sweet tone he had not hoped to hear in the privacy of the night again. Her step is gingerly taken, but this time he does not flee it. He fears it, certainly, still, but that fear would be dealt with another time. Her touch is an exchange and no longer one-sided. "y ẓalạm sạḥiraẗ." And Siren she was, calling to him since the moment his eyes laid a single glimpse on her nighttime hide. It makes him snort, that burning still alive and well in the pit behind his guts, but he bears it because to bear it a little while meant nothing in the face of future indulgence after a long time spent learning her, learning himself, and finding a way not to break her when it came time at all.

For now, it is the soft blackness of her hide that he wants, the promise that he and she will find the next full moon and bind themselves forever, then. "I wish you only joy, only love, though I am no man to understand either very well. Whatever you need of me, I will do everything in my power to yield it to you."