The Sentinels are you cussing with me?

An echoed call returned her way. She canted her sharp snout towards the sound of the voice and sniffed the air purposefully and drew closer with a measured step, flowing towards the radiant silhouette of a stranger - though, not so strange. Their conformation aligned with her own, and much to her surprised delight, Nuet had uncovered her first stranger in weeks. How fortuitous that they resemble a beast of Indikus.

Mahraj, drawls her voice, smooth and even as always. He does not look familiar except to be composed of honeyed shades of gold; a mirrored version of herself, lighter in tone than she is and a little heavier set. A thin line draws across her face - an attempted smile, maybe. The weight of her situation is still a bit overwhelming to her, but Neut is pleased to have the company.