Dragoncrest Cliffs Lightning flash—

I did this as RO originally but thought it might work better as a short thread!

Another day of searching. Another day with no trace of Mireille. Sobo was exhausted. He hobbled on sore paws to the lake, where he collapsed without taking the time to seek shelter. He only spared a moment to curl himself into a tight ball before his eyes fluttered shut and whisked him into a deep sleep.

Sobo...

He opened his eyes. He was standing at the edge of the cliff with salt spray leaping up to cling to his whiskers. A cold wind snapped at his cheeks and ears. He could feel every muscle in his body coiled with tension. The sea raged below, churning and white-capped. He could not tell if the jagged shapes in the water were countless sharp stones or the fins of hungry sharks. A flash of light illuminated the sky, making him throw back his ears and flinch moments before thunder pealed overhead. The waves climbed higher, hungrier than before. They threatened to crest the cliffs and grasp at his ankles, compelling him into the water, compelling him to fall...

Sobo!

He awoke with a start and found himself beside the lake where he had collapsed the night before. Dawn was breaking cold and glittering over the forest. The voice in his head echoed on. He could make no sense of what his dream had been about, but that part of it he was certain of. Without hesitation, the boy gathered his paws under him and hurried to the cliffs.

Where he stood, looking out over the calm ocean, just as he had in his dream. There were no whispered voices now, but the memory of it was enough. Sobo lifted his nose into the breeze. It had definitely been her.

Chè sè, he mumbled, Mwen tande ou men mwen pa wè ou. It had to be the work of the loa. That meant Mireille was out there still, communing just as he was now, casting out for a way home. There was no way of knowing where she could possibly be. The dream was too shattered in his mind. He knew only one thing for sure:

It was the sea. The sea had the answers. He gave his body a shake, working away the chill, and went to search for his manman. @Erzulie would need to know what he had seen. They were looking in the wrong place. It was the sea that had taken Mireille.

It must be the sea to bring her home.

this year would be a curse.
she had hoped that it would not happen — she had expected that the disappearance of mireille might have stressed her body to —
sobo would find his mother in greatpine wildwood, weaving between the dark boles of the sea-trees. the ocean revealed itself and veiled itself, back and forth, glimpses snatched through the arboreal trees. her face was dry today, devoid of the desperate tears that had marked her during the previous day.
mireille was not inland. she was not anywhere near sapphique. she was not where avicus had claimed. the woman turned a haunted, determined gaze toward sobo as he approached, struck by how old he was now. how powerfully built. in another year, she-wolves would come for him too.
"sobo." her voice was strained. erzulie passed a brief affection to him, a bump of her forehead against his shoulder, before moving on. 
pain in her skull again, the old migraines rising, blotting her vision for a moment. her son had arrived for a reason; erzulie turned back toward him, searching his young face for any sign of hope, wishing for it.

How strong Erzulie still appeared to be, despite so many losses. Sobo rumbled low in his throat and pressed his muzzle lightly to his mother's temple, turning with her as she walked on. For now, he was silent, turning his thoughts over and over in his mind and trying to make some sense of them.

Her two-toned gaze returned, and Sobo cleared his throat. I t'ink it be de loa, he shared. Dey showed me t'ings. Big waves. Sharp rocks. Still nothing concrete, but perhaps understanding would come with time. Wasn't that how these things worked?

In it, I be hearing Mireille wit' de wind. Callin' for me. If there had been other names, he could not recall it. Mireille's voice may have been borne by the loa to the others in their dreams as well. He was hopeful that he was not the only one, and simultaneously worried that he was not special enough to be the only one. Manman, I t'ink it be de sea dat took her. I t'ink she be somewhere where it be strong.

That encompassed the entire coast, though. Regretfully, he added, I do not know any more dan dat.

the mention of loa piqued erzulie. she had raised her children with mention of these things, basic knowledge. but to her memory she had not showed a one the practice of veves, nor the names of those who listened, those who watched.
his explanation gave the obsidian a hope she had not felt before. she looked toward the sea, inhaling its scent as sobo went on. mireille, calling to her brother. a quick, relieved spark inside her, to know that they were so connected.
njord was beloved. but sobo and loko were the first boys reared inside sapphique to this degree.
somewhere it was strong.
she nodded. "you lead us, sobo. i will come wit you now."
in her mind she pictured the sound, and wondered if he too thought of this place.

Tag is for reference but if you want her to smash in here and catch him tattling, by all means!

Oh, said Sobo, quite surprised that Erzulie would give him the lead on this. He was still so young, so inexperienced in matters of the sea. It was his dream of Mireille's voice, but beyond that, she was in a better position to know where the sea had power and where it did not. Sobo had narrowed it down to the entire coastline, which wasn't promising.

I not be knowin' where ta look, he admitted, but made a path for the Sound all the same. Besides their private beach, which they had already combed in search of his sister, that was the beginning of the known coast. I was meanin' to check de Sound wit' mamá, but...

He hesitated. It wasn't really his to tell. He knew that, but Rosalyn's confused expression and the lost turning of her head haunted him even days later. He should keep it to himself, but he just couldn't. Casting his voice lower, almost like he thought @Rosalyn might be listening to him right now, Sobo said, I t'ink dat dere is somet'ing wrong wit' mamá Rosalyn.

she did not know where to look either, but she did not want to admit this to sobo. she did not want to admit that her hope was flagging. this had happened every year. theirs would be no different. it hurt. it tore at her soul. erzulie did not know why she could not accept it yet, accept the fact that mireille was gone and there would once more be no closure.
sobo's words chilled her. she had watched rosalyn slide for some time now. small things, but noticeable when they had shared their lives together. erzulie came to a halt and turned her eyes on her son. "what have you seen?"
she did not deny it. she did not confirm it. erzulie felt panic leaping in her gut.

She only asked what he had witnessed, but Sobo thought Erzulie grinding to a halt then was notable. Something to worry about after all. He had tried to write off what happened with Rosalyn after she assured him she was fine, but found himself unable to put it from his mind.

He took a deep breath in. Well, mamá looked like she was headin' ta de beach to look for Mireille, so I t'ought I would go wit' her. Den she be talkin' 'bout someone. None of this was remotely alarming. Do ya remember de stories ya be tellin' us 'bout dat ol' sea witch, Caiaphas?

She lived in his nightmares, even though he had never met her. It served enough as a warning to keep him away from the grotto, at least. I t'ink... I t'ink dat she t'ought Caiaphas still be alive an' had somet'in' ta do wit' Mireille. When I said I t'ought she was dead, mamá looked real confused. Den we left and came home like not'in' ever happened.

erzulie listened. she tried to keep her face impassive as her son spoke, but failed as he spoke the name of a long-gone woman. "caiaphas," she whispered to herself after the boy had finished. "she been dead a long while."
the grotto.
there was no reason for either of them to go there now. it had once been their home, earned bitterly in blood; it was where she had almost lost rosalyn; it was where she had believed scarab had drowned — and her wife knew these things. but still ankyra had blazed in her mind.
she had thought the witch knew where she might find mireille.
instinctively she changed their course at once, turning for the cursed place. "she is remembering a different time."
maybe if they were able to discover what ghosts called to rosalyn, they might be able to untangle her.

Dat is what I t’ought, Sobo agreed. Their tales had always been about her storied life, but there was never any indication other than that Caiaphas had died long ago. The how and why of it, these were things Sobo did not know. Speaking about the witch seemed like more of a pain point for his mothers than anything.

When Erzulie redirected them toward the Sound, Sobo followed reluctantly. He had been reluctant with Rosalyn, too. He had enough stories in his head urging him to not go down there that he had never found in him any curiosity about the sound or its grotto. It was cursed. That was all he needed to know to avoid it.

But he followed anyway. He was curious and afraid and Erzulie was safer than being alone right now. But why would she t’ink it has anyt’ing ta do wit’ Mireille? His sister was of the present, not the past.

any other time she might have laughed. but this was her mate. this was rosalyn, drifting where the rest of them could not follow: into half-cooked memories tangled in the kelp of that which had been forgotten. "she may have been going to confront caiaphas. it is said dat witch stole chil'ren." 
but this had never been anything she had seen.
erzulie let out her breath and now she looked at sobo. "you will be a man in de sprin'."
ankyra yawned around them, mystical. desolate. "once we lived here. rusalka. de wolves who lived upon de cliffs den, we fought dem. your mot'er was taken captive by dem. by drageda. she is remembering many t'ings at once." and not chronologically.

The boy remained puzzled, turning his confused thoughts over and over as he followed Erzulie down to the Sound. Caiaphas was dead. She could not steal any more children even if that was true.

Unless she meant to imply that Caiaphas still roamed here, maybe not in living form, but not all loa were benevolent. Was it possible for a mortal of sufficient celebrity or notoriety to be formed into a loa when they passed? Sobo did not know the answer, but the mere thought was chilling.

He listened and nodded when Erzulie was finished. Mamá told me dis once. She said dat is how she got de scars on her face. She did not say dat ya lived here. He had not understood the concept of captivity then, and wondered if that was why his manman brought up becoming a man, because he was old enough now to understand the way that might traumatize someone. He still did not understand what any of this had to do with his sister; the way memories became jumbled with age was not something such a young wolf could appreciate.

The grotto’s mouth was a dark blot against the cliffs. Sobo shivered. Do we have ta go in dere?

she shook her head. "we will stay outside." she approached, however, crooning a single note into the darkness of the grotto. erzulie listened to the way the sound bounced through the stone walls, intercepted by no one.
it was haunting to be back.
and yet it satisfied her in a way she had not expected.
"we did not live here long. and den dis place flooded one year. i had not been back for a long while. too many memories, sobo," erzulie explained softly, voice drifting for a moment as despite herself, she too began to remember.

While Erzulie approached the imposing grotto mouth, Sobo hung back, flagging his red tail low against his legs. The stories were enough to warn him away from there for the rest of his life. He was curious, sure, but more frightened than anything. One day, he hoped to conquer his fear and step within.

Not today though. He perked back up when Erzulie spoke again, telling a little of the history of the grotto. Bad memories? he guessed. Even with no one present, the grotto seemed to breathe and the air it expelled was rife with bad energies. Or maybe it was just his imagination running away with him.

Ya do not t’ink Mireille would go down dere?

she shook her head. "mireille is curious but she likes to be home. especially now," she said with a small sigh. mireille had not told her the specifics of what had gone on in blackwater. she suspected the red daughter only spoke with the boy now at her side.
and their mother chose not to question.
"ghosts live here." she swept her eyes around.
scarab had died here.
scarab had not returned the same way.
it was as if it had not been him which found her and rosalyn again.
he was here, erzulie was sure of it.

Sobo had noticed his sister's recent reluctance to leave the cliffs but he was too relieved to question it. It had hurt when she went off with the Rivenwood girls despite their treatment of him. It would similarly hurt if she returned home only to go traveling once more, though perhaps he would be accompanying her if she did.

He was simply happy his sister was home.

De ol' sea witch, said Sobo, stepping gingerly away from the grotto's hungry looking mouth. Erzulie had said there were ghosts. Plural. Who else?

"her children, perhaps."
she could not know. had not known. it was a guess.
and yet she could not speak of sobo's brother to him — not yet, not yet.
"let us fin' shells on de beach. we will take dem home. i will show you how to make an altar, oui?"
sobo walked in knowledge. she wished to help him further this.

Maybe they had told him that Caiaphas had children before, but maybe they hadn't. He knew a little of Raleska, of course, but thought of her as just another sibling. Any connection to Caiaphas had likely been omitted, either by Rosalyn's failing memory or choice.

He didn't really want to hear about them, though, because he believed the ghost of Caiaphas haunted the grotto. Even though he had been the one to ask, he truly did not want to know that there were other ghosts. The possibility made him shudder. Erzulie changed the subject and he leaped at the chance to get away from the grotto. Oui, manman! he called, hastening further down the beach to sniff for suitable shells. Making an altar was way more exciting than dwelling on Rosalyn's recollections or worrying that ghosts would rise from the grotto to steal his soul in the night.

erzulie watched her leggy son dart along the sand.
perhaps this was his role. his rank.
the talk of spirits unsettled her. she hurried to catch up with him, and before she showed him the best way for the creation of an altar, she smoothed his growing brow with her loving muzzle and murmured my son.