Nodding solemnly, Khepri merely answered with, "Indeed we shall," from her vantage point on the bank. If it was death the man sought, she would not go any further to interfere though she would lament the quiet afternoon she had been enjoying. She couldn't help but take note of how at ease he seemed in the water; it reminded her how the desert was a part of her. Perhaps the water was a part of him.
Khepri watched curiously the way his face changed as he processed her question. Many men like him, pale and thin, had come to her country looking for the knowledge of ages past and carried with them an incomplete understanding of it. There had been many who were offended by these men, these people who opened up their ancient tombs and stole from them to take to their homelands. In her travels, she had heard of the museums with much pride in their collections. Only once had she told them they possessed recreations, and all the others, she merely admired and laughed.
"Perhaps he is waiting for you in the Field of Reeds," she remarked, though she had no knowledge of the man of whom she spoke. A friend, a brother, a father — she did not know. "But would he not wait patiently? No friend should call for such a sacrifice." Khepri was likely to never cross into the Duat or tread upon A'aru, but a paradise was treasured after hardship and unattainable otherwise. Life led to an appreciation of the journey into death.