The delicate bones of her wrist covered in supple flesh receive his touch, the blood coursing through her veins send a light timpani against the solid weight of his fingers.  A light curious tilt of her head, an elegant arch akin to the proud stance of spirited stallion brings her to lean forward as he steps in, closing the distance between them.   A gentle lift of her face brings his scent to her as surely as a sighted person's eyes shares information.<br/><br/>"I know your thoughts, your desires, your needs but I would have you voice them.  It would be unseemly for me to act upon what is held in the privacy of a person's thoughts.  But you are aware of my 'sight'.  You know my gift and how I use it, yet you allow me that contact.  I have always wondered at that."<br/><br/>Pausing a moment she gives a light furrow of her brow as the weight of her words settles around her.  "I would offer whatever service as priestess...  or...other 'comforts' you might desire.  We go to battle soon.  I would not see you, or myself, go without some unfettering of needs, some reminder why it is we go to destroy the beasts who pray upon the innocent."<br/><br/>A casual turn of her head and a minute flaring of her nostril as she scents the air between them.  Impossible to see from any distance, though Catulus could well determine the action, understanding its needfulness in her gathering of information from him.  The way in which a snake scents heat Sibyl brings the information to her to learn, to see and understand.  Breath slowing as she brings it to her, holding the scent deep within her, savoring before releasing it, equally protracted.  Her visage a quiet, calm pool though the pulse beneath the press of granite fingers strengthens, the span between beats lessening.