The rough tenor of his voice is dismissive, surly, rumpled like an unmade bed with his uncaring; a rebuke rises to her lips, a snap and snarl, but she holds it closed within, waiting, judging, her son's reaction. Instead, her body language resets itself subtly, her crest hardening, eyes sharpening, ears fixating forth--and this, this shift of her sinews and flex of her muscles, is both startling and predatory, menacing and fearsome. Even lacking the demonic spine of her armour (long-stolen by Deimos) there was an undeniable lordliness to her frame, an air of elitism and arrogance.

His explanations echo as excuses, Confutatis muses; her golden eye follows the movement of his lips with increasing skepticism. Scorn rises within her presumed apathy, distaste and rage--he should not have left her side. When had they grown apart? What had she missed in her years of confinement? They had never been this way before. Always, for as long as she could remember, they had traveled together, fought together, got into trouble together (and yet this was no longer.) Why? What had changed? Was it her absence? Or was it simply the way it was meant to be between the two of them?

Still she withholds comment, icy and contemptuous, ever-listening. When he asks his question, she holds her silence for a drawn-out minute, thinking, wondering, debating the worthiness of punishing his impertinence... and then inwardly shrugging. "The guards had grown weary of guarding me, when I had remained for so long without escape. In the night when I decided to leave, Mongrel remained to shape illusions of my body staying there; meanwhile, I swam the sea. It was doable, if not easy; Mongrel joined me after I was safely away."

And then she marched on, leaving the subject firmly closed.

"I am leaving Helovia, Volterra, once I have spoken to Nymeria. I am returning to your father, and his herd outside of this land." She drew breath, her cold eyes bidding no interruption--"it's your time here, to rule, to lead. You know are meant to be a conquerer, a king, and you will recall the lessons I have taught you. Firstly, I would suggest taking a patron god, although ultimately it is up to you. Should you earn a god's favor, I have no doubt that you might more easily be able to take his or her herdland, should you wish it--although it will be hard. Have you put any thought into where you might want to go?"