This world of magic and ritual was one that Salvia did not belong to. She was too primal, too savage for such a thing. She feared it, in her heart, and knew her mother (and by some extension, her father) held great power there. It had been Eris that had first turned her into a tiger amongst fawns, and Eris who had stood by while her daughter fled, screaming, into the night.
Yet she stood here now, and she had watched with the same attentiveness expected of the others. Being the daughter of the woman cloaked in dead beasts did not mean anything now. Green eyes focused on her mother, knowing the tale of the bear she wore, imagining that there were more when it came to the fox hides. Salvia wore nothing. She did not know if she ever would.
The slave approached with a bowl, and having seen what her mother ingested, Salvia hesitated. She had gone to that terrible world before, and it had driven her to try and kill her sister. She took a small amount and ate it without pleasure. With the scent of blood filling her world, Salvia closed her eyes and breathed out into the cold air.
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