[Coyolxauhqui's seated on a plush-looking pile of cotton textiles in a nondescript area of the Barge, casually sipping on some sort of frothy concoction. Her skin is cut to ribbons - ears, arms, legs, but she's scrubbed and polished and looking pleased with herself. She sips on the drink and then speaks, her voice sounding like her tongue might be
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Which lady do I speak with?
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It is Chantico, Coyolxauhqui. I am sorry to hear of your imprisonment here. Have you been safe?
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Safe. Somewhat safe. This prison is like no other.
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This vessel is strong with a large appendage! A man, worthy of a woman's guile and cunning.
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