Oliver's reaction drew a laugh from her, though she respectfully turned her head away and covered her mouth. Khepri refrained from sharing any more of her collection, deciding to keep that information for another time. She had a feeling that if nothing else, Oliver might appreciate her nostalgic talk of the past and of the things she has amassed over time that are worth more now than when she had acquired them. "I hope you do. I am still very much interested in your translation," she replied, smile still on her face.
"With luck, it shall always be so." Perhaps it was the remnants of an old religion, but Khepri had always valued the ka over the body. The body was limited and tethered, but the ka, it was powerful and eternal. The old ways still carried on in her, though she didn't speak of them often. She longed for the reverence for the gods, the simplicity of the way the world used to work, the belief in magic, the fear of Ma'at's feather.
Khepri thanked him as he refilled her glass and took another sip of the drink. Alcohol had a deceptive warmth to it and she remembered the stories of an old friend she had met in her travels, how they had nearly frozen to death all the while feeling as if they were overheating as they drank. "Ah hieratic. If you should prove masterful with it, perhaps I can teach you the formal hieroglyphics."