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Mete stood and awkwardly received the gesture of affection, peering on Tlantli with deep red eyes. He was confused by her dismissal of Baphomet and thought her dismissing him entirely too quickly. The rest of her talk -- the flaxen coyote did not know what to make of that, either. I will do whatever is asked of me for this family, he said, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. But you should not forget Baphomet so quickly. His daughter-sister's voice was accented strangely, even -- it carried the clear mark of some distant place with some strange tongue.
He would not have his time to rest yet -- the family must still depend on him. There was not so much of it that he had an overwhelming amount of duties, though -- the three adults shared tasks equally, their single slave working like the dog he was to keep some semblance of order within the Kimaris family's home. These physical responsibilities did not concern Metetzili quite so much as other responsibilities -- ensuring the survival of his family was a renewed one, and one he hadn't known he'd face again.
In sending Tlantli, her brothers, and Dieriel's son away, Mete had been certain he was condemning the Kimaris family to death within Eterne. He had no children and could not seem to produce any; he'd stopped trying years ago, in any case. Dieriel was not keen on breeding again, and Baphomet was priestly, certain to father none. To save his half-siblings, it had been worth it. In the end, this was Metetzili's conclusion. Now, faced with the revival of their hopes, he was not quite certain he'd made the correct choice in the first place.