The black tent lay deep and somber, the candlelight bright. A faint scent of herbs spread through the tent, vaguely carrying a musk-like fragrance. Cotton blankets were spread across the ground, faintly marked with the imprints of human figures and damp dew. Beneath the candlelight, two new mahogany wine cups had been set out, along with a black pottery wine jar.
To the left of the wine jar was a shallow little bowl, half-filled with used fish ointment. To the right of the wine jar lay a piece of shattered black gauze, almost torn into strips of cloth and kneaded into several crumpled clumps; who knew what had happened.
Xolotl wore a short garment, his expression cold and hard, sitting cross-legged before the wine jar as he picked up a mahogany wine cup. Two cat scratches had appeared on his neck, and there were several snake tooth marks at his shoulder. He paid them no mind, drinking Tequila, only occasionally casting his gaze toward the warm, soft woman in his arms.
Miawa's eyes were hazy, her expression dazed, like a boneless soft snake as she leaned in the king's embrace. She sat slantwise, draped in Xolotl's black robe, struggling to close her outstretched legs like a white egret that could not stand. And the woman's flushed neck, along with the blue-red handprints at her ankles, made her look like a Flamingo that had been pounced on by a Jaguar and savagely tasted.
The sea lay still, the silent night soundless. All the towering waves and stormy billows had scattered into the night wind, leaving only the musk fragrance that would not disperse. The two of them lowered their heads like this, sitting close together, breathing in the scent of themselves on the other's body, and for a long time neither