Word Count :: 311 HOW DAAAAAAARE YOU <3
The hybrid woman offered her sister only a smile at her words, though it was one tinged by sadness. She, too, knew that Larkspur was not the ideal -- she had not chosen him first, after all. It had been the brown-shaded hybrid, the man the color of grave-dirt, with his blazing blue eyes. She had wanted him before Larkspur, and had him, she did! It had been only once that she had touched that shadow, however, and that single encounter had not been enough to plant his seed inside her, though she had so desperately hoped for it.
He was dead now, however, and her chance at him was done and over with. The shadow in him, however, was far from deceased -- she had seen it in Itachi, and Conor, too, reflected and weakened by their mothers' blood. She did not like to think of things she had been denied, however, and the sable woman was quick to shove those thoughts away, instead focusing her attention on the task at hand. It would not do to ruminate over old ghosts and missed opportunities with such a task as Tlantli asked of her.
The sable woman reached for her knife, the sharp obsidian thing glittering even with its depthless color, darker than even the night shadow extending all around them. It caught the firelight, throwing it back fiercely to keep from being tainted by the light. The hybrid held it in her hands a moment, looking down until Tlantli's honey-accented voice spoke again, directing her attention to the spot where the scar would be. Eris smiled faintly, and nodded her agreement. “Make yourself comfortable,” she directed, though not with the austerity one might issue a command. There would be pain and there would be blood; there was no reason Tlantli should have to ache for lack of comfortable seating, too.
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