Qebhet gave a little half-shrug. "They come and go. It's been only the two of us for a few years now. My brother prefers to stay nearer the desert."
She couldn't rightly call herself lonely. She had friends here, good friends. She had the dead to keep her company. She had her cats and her snake. And not all the gods of her homeland were the most... relaxing company. Still— on foreign soil, under a foreign sky, among gods far too young to ever have seen the barque of the Sun sail the arched canopy of Nut, or watched the dance of the twinned ikhem-sek around the celestial north pole— there was a certain familiar ease in spending time with those who had been reared under the same stars was you.
But this wasn't the time to dwell. After another sip of her beer, she added, "My cousin Seshat lives in Philadelphia, though, so I see her a lot. She's the one who helped me with your scarab. She's a goddess of writing, so engraving is one of her specialties."