Ariadne

You approach Ariadne carefully, padding through the waving grass on quiet paws.

"Excuse me," you begin, and she raises her head to you, a displeased growl curling at her lip. Her eyes are narrowed, shining with something bordering disgust, walking fine on the edge of hatred. You pause in your tracks and bow, seemingly placating the lioness of old. You know what you're here for, and so does she.

"I've heard much about you, Ariadne - and yet, I do not know you at all. Where, Gods tell, did you come from?"

She unfurls her legs, rising above your head to peer at you - a little less disgust, a little more apathy. With a twitching lip, she remarks, "Before you, there was me.
And before myself, there were older beings - primals, true lions. The Gods made them. I do not know how I came about, young king, I only know that I exist. I revel in it; in my strangeness, in the bit of fear I taste on your scent." Her coat shimmers under fading sunlight as she pauses, staring through you with pale, lightless eyes.

“I found safety here, in Apollas's pride. This is my homeland now, and I sense you should be returning to yours." She flicks her unusually pricked ears at you, dismissing you wordlessly. You turn to leave, a last bow as a goodwill gesture.