Tip...tip...tip.

The water droplets kept on falling resonating with the hum of anxiousness that coursed through her body.

Mami was chattering excitedly as she braided my hair while my auntie Brenda painted expertly across her face. Her brush tickled my face but didn't dare move a muscle.

The varnish was sacred and have it smudge would be a bad omen.
It was the ashes of the Ancestors mixed with the blood of the last priestess in service, taken just before she uttered her dying prayer.

Suddenly she felt a sting on her arm, pulling her out of her thoughts. Mami looked sternly at her, "We're you listening to a word I said. You must do as we have practiced. A single mistake can doom our family."

A cold shiver ran down my spine as Mami's expression turned brittle. "We've loved you like our own daughter. Never treated you like a mongrel and this is the moment for you to repay us for clothing you and feeding you for so long."

Auntie Brenda had stopped, a sad expression flashing by her face. This is what I hated, pity. At least Mami was blunt while the others looked at her with pity. Pity that she was born.

She nodded lightly as she didn't dare utter a word for ruining the varnish or for the fact she might start crying. She was a bastard born and even going to the service rite much less participating was something her kind didn't dream of.

Finally, Mami helped her put on the sacrilegious shift as she mumbled the farewell prayer against her cheek, "Go Adira. May, the service guide you to the Truth."