Word Count→382 — Xochime took out her nose ring; figured it was a good time to get that out of the way if she's staying a family member, though it might seem strange for someone to just take out an obvious slave ring, but what people make of it is up to you. Tlantli = sitting at Eris' left.
She'd been working, as was common for the Crone, in some spiritual world that sat within the realm of subconscious thought when the call came to her. Settled in her spiral room, dark pupils dilated from effects of some hallucinogenic substance, Tlantli almost didn't hear; it took a moment for the golden woman to realize what was going on in the real world. Xochime had to tap her sister's shoulder. Leaving the bloodied sacrifice on the spit before her, Tlantli rose and gathered up gifts found within the confines of the ruined human city to the south: a tarnished silver-backed mirror for Eris, a carved wooden comb for Sirius and a set of uniquely matched golden bands for the added effect of offering blessing to Eris' decision to settle on the black d'Angelo oaf. Her sister watched with the faintest traces of concern, asking if she needed help only once. Tlantli shot out denial of the most venomous kind, slinging her bag over her shoulders.
It wasn't hard for the two Kimaris women to find their way to the 'table', for the scents of various animals could have drawn many a spectator. They approached with caution, Xochime walking several paces behind the Crone herself; it wasn't out of respect so much as fear. They paused as the shapes of the Boss and Auxiliary came into sight. Tlantli glanced sideways at the remnants of the slave-girl Kimaris, tapping her hose to indicate the symbol of enslavement that was still worn there before confidently crossing the ground. Xochime fumbled with the nose ring to remove it before finding a place on the far middle of the table.
The petite witchdoctor halted before her leaders, removing the presents and setting them carefully on the ground beneath each; the silver mirror shone in the firelight faintly, giving a strange cast to the comb that came next. It wasn't until she was satisfied with their placement that Tlantli took her seat beside Eris — choosing not to acknowledge the man-child to her left — with all the elegant grace of a young man rather than woman. One leg was twisted to rest beneath her while the other offered a place to rest her arm, keeping her head turned in an attempt to hide her drug-addled features from the rest of the family.
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