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Caspa wasn't too flustered to notice the tiniest of threats in Terra's words - or perhaps it was only there for her to understand, not even intended by the fiery magician, considering the darkness Caspa saw in what some might consider an innocent and harmless endeavour, that of reading fortunes and invoking the spiritual world. Despite her rushed excuse, she was firmly in command of her reflexes, as at all times. So it was no great effort to halt in the doorway, her ramrod straight back as expressive as her steel-riveted face would ever be. Terra concluded with a command, one that seemed to tie together her coyote and wolf nature. Curiosity and strength. Caspa was dog-wolf, and she felt to her small amusement the realisation that perhaps a little obedience was not entirely out of place. She was not going to drop her ferocity, though: her feelings remained unchanged. She turned slowly on the spot, eyes blots of ink out of reach of the dim filtered-canvas light. The old man was tipping a kettle into a teapot, his face calm and benevolent, but she caught him flick a mildly interested look their way and knew he had missed nothing. If he realised the challenge Terra had set up before him, he didn't seem to care. Perhaps he had dealt with thousands like them before. She moved forwards to hover forebodingly over the edge of the table, silently assenting to stay and observe, but retaining a lofty and aloof bearing. "Do drink your tea," he said then, and Caspa realised there were two cups on the table in between them. It smelled much like the spicy brews she remembered from home, but had never tasted; they had been the province of the adults - mostly the male adults. She was tempted to try it, now that she was mature enough in the eyes of her tradition. But if he had added something to the potion, thought to serve them a devil's brew of befuddlement or entrancement... "What are your ingredients, uh," having no name to formally fill in the gap, Caspa was taken aback for a second before the solution presented itself in the words "and your name? And what, exactly, is your claim here?" Her relentless expression demanded no quibble, but the grey-cinnamon wolf's voice sounded unruffled. "Nothing sinister, stranger. Herbs, tea-leaves, and goat's milk. My name is Macarius, and I am a guide... in more ways than one. I can reveal paths that were once unseen." He gave her a toothy smile. "And who might you two be, who have brought the fire and wind of changes into my humble pavilion?" Caspa felt her hackles rise at his vagaries, but despite herself could already find herself wondering what he meant by the peculiar phrasing which seemed somehow to fit the pair. Of course, he was invoking some kind of occult symbolism, but she had no idea what it meant and her active mind was already seeking the patterns and inferences despite herself. "I am Caspa Al-Fateh," she answered; she had nothing to hide.
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