"Sleeping soundly is a gift," Anna means it as a kind of compliment. That those with healthy enough consciences deserved the rest. She could hardly say her own met the criteria. She thinks maybe to say something else, about how maybe Wysteria might be immune to the whole stench of it today, but as she stares idly into the center of the table and the young woman's spoon full of dripping jam, she observes the wood beginning to bubble.

Orchid and black, a roiling mist that she can see is coming through the wood and not of the wood itself. Like a new course to their table, a little pedestal rises out of it bearing a tiny warped body. It has somewhat of resemblance to a human, but its ribs stick outwards of its tiny dessicated torso like teeth, and the space of its mouth in its wizened head is sideways and gaping.

She recognizes it. They used the mummified fetuses in rituals. Her mouth gapes for just a moment before she's set the tea down with a clatter and thrown her napkin over it. Like she can somehow protect the breakfast from the intrusion. It's futile. Even hidden, the thing smells of the earth.