It was nearly instantaneous, and without a doubt the involuntary response after having spent so much time on the run; at the sound of footsteps padding out of the forests Elizabeth had turned, her stature shifting and one hand resting at the pommel of a blade. Had she not seen the growing glow that indicated a non-human had approached, it was entirely possible she'd have drawn her blade with exceptional speed. Her posture eased only minutely once she'd taken in the appearance of the newcomer, and two steps had been taken to offer the elven woman some space as she spoke to Thortan.

Not a word was offered, only the shrewd gaze of the Lycian. It was a piercing stare that often left people feeling as if Elizabeth was looking right through them, analyzing their every thought and breath. It wasn't entirely inaccurate, she was exceptional at reading people, but she certainly wasn't staring into the depths of their souls with a simple glare. After a moment's pause Liz brought her cigarette to her lips, taking a deep pull and allowing the near-poisonous fog to rest in her lungs for a moment or two. As the smoke oozed from her nostrils she took an additional step, to the side this time in the event they moved inside.

She made no attempt to introduce herself, nor did she reach out to offer a hand. The accent that rolled from the elven woman's tongue was recognizable. Elizabeth, the overachiever that she was, was fluent in several languages. She had no doubt she would be able to catch onto the dialect of whatever tribe this newcomer was from, though it offered little solace to the guest, as she did not voice it.

Her only commentary was offered with her typical cynical viewpoint on any god that was not her own, or Erebus himself. 

"The fates are nothing more than three old gossiping women with a terrible sense of humor."