The Heartwood "my child," the goddess said.

"Of course," the Priestess murmured graciously, her obsidian diadem dipping in a slow nod as she rose again and padded to the stone Eldritch had chosen as her altar. She felt a mild jolt of surprise when Aphelion slithered, the night snake's fawn-spotted scales writhing as he slipped from Mati's shoulders and onto Eldritch's. There was a cold lack of pressure where he usually curled around her but she approved of his acceptance of the Nightwish as one of their own. "There is no one proper way to commune with the gods. Your relationship with them will not be exactly as my own is -- nor as any other witch might have with the Daedra. You will find your path, your practice with time," the mambo shifted subconsciously into teacher mode for a moment, her words soft and encouraging, sensing the stygian she-wolf's hesitance and need for perfectionism. 

Then, with a steadying breath drawn inward, the witch squared her shoulders in preparation and stepped up to the stone -- rearing up on her hindlegs to place her forepaws to either side of the offering, the organ dampening the shale beneath it with a blood so dark it seemed like ink. "Sithis, īlon kirimvose ler kiza kisagon -- ler rual ye glaesagon se sīmonagon sizi jehikarȳ ler sōnar. īlon rigle a skorkydoso stepagon pa prūmia esh kiza dȳñes iemnȳ pa jaelarys kona yel murgho hilagho a. Lo mēre a sagon vasīr davābagon jeva raqnon bē ye." The prayer came in soft whispers of melodic Daedric as the night-child dipped and smeared her berry-stained features in the fresh paint of the elk's blood. She had begun teaching Eldritch the language of their people but she was sure some of the finer points were likely lost on her student.

Afterwards, she lowered herself back onto all fours before turning to face Eldritch -- mismatched gaze rising to meet the hellhound's wintry optics. Her eyes closed after a moment as she moved closer, as if to wrap the dark girl in a lover's embrace. It was not her lips that brushed against the raven's features however but her forehead and muzzle, affectionately rubbing a war mask of blood to match onto Eldritch's features -- both of them dressed up as the brides of Sithis given flesh. 

"Now we feast," Aerenys drawled as she stepped back, eyes opening as she gave her partner a wide grin despite the fact that they were still pressed close together. 

translation: "Sithis, we thank you for this meal -- for allowing us to live and to thrive even in the presence of this winter. We honor you by sharing the heart of this beast with you in the hopes that her death pleases you. May you continue to rain your favor upon us."