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Eris is by James!
The coal-furred woman nodded; she liked the sound of this word very much. It was an exotic way of saying Boss -- perhaps she'd try it on Sirius. He might like the foreign flavor of it, and what pleased Sirius was good for Salsola as a whole. The preservation and honor of the dead was not unfamiliar to Eris, though she herself did not engage in such rituals. Eris's forte lie with the dying and death itself, rather than the already dead. Once a canine had passed from this world to the next, Eris had no use for them -- their life force had been depleted.
I see, she said, nodding thoughtfully. She understood the equation of a leader to godliness very well: in Eterne, the Mamexi was bride of Momotzli -- akin to a god herself. Salsola did not believe the same, however -- Sirius, godly as he might have looked, was no more than a mortal. She did not wish to disrespect Imhotep's beliefs, however, and so the dark woman merely nodded her understanding and carried over to the next subject.
Salsola has no rituals for the dead, she said, frowning. Shibboleth had been burned in a pyre, but Shibboleth was different. Even if they had death rituals, the dark-furred woman would have disobeyed them: her child was different. The woman thought of the feverish and small body and suppressed a shiver. Nor do we think of our Boss as a god -- he is mortal, the woman said, smiling. But you may flatter him by thinking of him as a god -- if you wish, she said, shrugging one rounded shoulder.
Elsewise, leadership is the same here -- the Boss's word is law, and he controls all. Those who disobey him have no place here, she said, shaking her head fiercely.
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