Ankyra Sound betrayed and played by god

the day brought with it the surety of sunlight; erzulie's spirit spoke the surety of the children that had surely taken root within her. "de loa do not lie," came the husky timbre of her voice, echoing through the grotto. drawn away from her packmates, the honeycream wolfess had become reclusive in the last week or so, preferring even her own company to that of rosalyn.
children were not something she had ever wished before meeting the pirate; therefore, erzulie had not planned for them, not planned for the feeling of nausea each morning and the sensation of displacement within her own skin. clicking her tongue at her foolishness, she paused in the shadows, head down and eyes closed as she breathed in the salt air, hoping to dispel a sudden sickness.
"dis de way of mot'ers."

caiaphas had noticed erzulie's withdrawal from the pack, and having once (and only once) been speared with the pain of pregnancy, knew well the pains erzulie was enduring. caiaphas would never forget the raw mornings, the bleary afternoons, the sudden wave of nausea more commanding than the grim face of a tsunami. and then later, the swelling, the inflammation, the exhaustion, the humiliation -- these were the way of the mother.

she had collected a small bundle of herbs from the grotto's cache and was carrying them down through the tunnel in which erzulie rested - some which might help, and some which might not. she knew little of caretaking beyond the brief insight erzulie had imparted upon her, or past wolves of a former life -- but she hoped, selfishly more for the puppies than for erzulie, that her token would be taken, and perhaps useful.

drawing close to the suffering harlot, caiaphas deposited the wares and then on spidery limbs began to pull away. she did not wish to impose where her company was not wanted, but would certainly turn around if erzulie by chance called for her.

the gentle approach of caiaphas lifted erzulie's head; the scent of the herbs in the bundle she carried was a welcome bitterness that cut through her own sickness. politely, the seawitch turned, and erzulie hesitated, torn between wishing to be left alone, and desiring the company of the prickly woman who had founded this place for them.
"i am a whore, not a midwife, caiaphas," she called after the straightness of the other's retreating back, dry humour alive in her voice. "will ... will you show me what dese are?" and if the older woman did not feel like playing teacher to a vomit-riddled pregnant soul, erzulie could hardly fault her for it.
she simply, suddenly, did not want to be alone any longer.

caiaphas' provisions were a meager bundle; better than nothing, but the siren was no avid collector. the bitter stems and desiccated roots were an assembly of wares collected in a haphazard fashion, and perhaps worthy of derision by any self-respecting medic. she half expected erzulie would scorn her approach, but instead was called back -- all too willing to oblige the mother, caiaphas turned.

she looked at the pitiful assembly, noticing out of the corner of her eyes how weary rosalyn appeared. having once endured such bitter torment, caiaphas had no wish to revisit it. the only problem was -- she knew little of what plants were harmful for growing puppies, and after a moment's consideration, selected from the pile only the herbs she had ingested.

her kids had turned out fine... right?

"i am not either," she confided at length, settling the pile close to the mother's paws. a sprig of strange watermint, a dried tussock of old juniper berries, and a ropy swath of crunchy seaweed caiaphas did not know the name of -- but was a plant she had found precocious desire for during her pregnancy. "but i ate these to some effect. what are your worst symptoms?"

as caiaphas indicated each bundle, erzulie dipped her head to take the scent and commit it to memory. the usual inkling of wariness spoke, but the harlot felt she had little to fear from the seawitch — why would caiaphas wish to poison her? especially when erzulie carried rusalka's further foundations within her?
therefore, she lipped the mint into her jaws, eyes closing with the pleasure of relief as the flavor dispelled the welling nausea in her throat. "de vomiting," erzulie answered a moment later, refocusing on the savage woman. "and de ... i feel like my skin is shifting."
a self-deprecating laugh followed. "you do not t'ink dat is crazy?" she inquired, though perhaps she was, and if so, it was just as well.

for each plant caiaphas spoke of, erzulie followed with a motion of her muzzle, no doubt committing each plant to memory. caiaphas was silent as the woman lipped at an unattractive branch of mint, her gaze scanning the darkened sea abstractly as she waited for erzulie's verdict.

she shared an understanding smile, though its presence on her features was unnervingly quick. she herself had little enjoyment during her pregnancy -- glad as she was to bear children, she was just as glad to have expelled them from her body. "that is not crazy," the sylph rejoined, recalling her own duress. "they are growing in you, making room. maybe pushing around an organ or two." a poor joke, though the crone thought erzulie's disposition could use some lightening. "they will be out before you know it. it is your first time, yes?"

"yes. my first time," erzulie confirmed, a sigh escaping her throat. "how long have i avoided pregnancy, only to have it show up all de same." another spate of bitter laughter. she did not loathe the children within, and knew somehow that they would be much beloved to her; she could only not justify her choice to have them at all.
"how many have you borne, caiaphas?" she asked with a low curiosity. the other was older than she; surely she had many young sprawled from coastline to forest, all bearing her dry humour and fierce stamp.

erzulie's bitter reflection caused a wrinkle of shared sympathy in the unruly siren: she too had fought her entire life to remain unsullied by whelps, and then last year had changed everything. "hmm, well - you meet the right one, and it is not so untenable anymore." kierkegaard had been the only wolf that caiaphas shared that type of affinity with, but without him, she would have remained barren and ... none of what happened in the last ten months would have occurred.

that thought was sobering, and caiaphas was glad to switch the subject. "i have had one litter." she remarked, canting her gaze to briefly meet the mint bite of erzulie's gaze. "four all told. rhakios, ephraim, illidan, and raleska." she looked as if she would fall into silence, but then slipped a quiet afterthought. "i have reared pups as my own, but nothing like this. and then they are old enough, and don't need you anymore."

rhakios. she had not heard the name before, only the last three, and wondered what had happened to the fourth child of the witch. but she knew better than to pry, and so remained quiet in a pondering sort of way until caiaphas had finished speaking. as she was not yet mother, erzulie did not think she could aptly comment upon what it was to have a child leave you.
"illidan and raleska need you, i t'ink, just in anot'er way." she had seen both yearlings' love for their mother, their great and unflinching loyalty; they would suffer without her guidance to the first year of true adulthood. and after that, she would be their confidant, erzulie believed, gaze softening as she glanced to the seawitch.

glancing aside, caiaphas caught the lingering and unspoken question that simmered in erzulie's thoughts. "a storm separated us all; only raleska and svalinn remained. it is but a stroke of luck illidan reunited with us, and that ephraim is not so far by. an enemy, yes, but a mother takes comfort in knowing an enemy is better off than dead." then came a grim smile, for caiaphas' features had darkened in memory of the storm.

"i thought i had endured every harsh crucible life saw fit to throw my way. but motherhood -- that is something different." she fell to silence, picking absently at the sand with a thin claw.

fade w ur next post? we should have another <3

caiaphas answered the unsaid inquiry — erzulie listened, putting aside the names of the other's children and the fate that had befallen them. and while she hated drageda, with every part of her, erzulie found it strange that she could not bring herself to hate caiaphas' wayward son.
it was perhaps too late for him to return to the fold of rusalka, but not to stand before his mother again. a silent prayer sent skyward to the loa for this to one day happen, and erzulie nodded. "den i am glad dat i have you," she murmured, a bit of raw sentiment uncovered by the talk of motherhood and the thought of her own feet upon the threshold.

<3

while spiritual no longer, the crone would have appreciated the silent prayer cast by erzulie if she had been aware of it. long ago youthful idealization of distant gods had been stripped from her, but it did not mean caiaphas did not understand or appreciate the sentiment of prayer.

erzulie's murmur was raw, but not scorned: caiaphas held her gaze a moment and returned - "as i am you. you will make a fine mother." she had never been a particularly loquacious wolf, but she steadfastly believed rusalka was better with erzulie within it. they had fought alongside each other, protected one another, and now caiaphas would see the golden she-wolf bring forth new life in the world. if each of her whelps had an ounce of erzulie's strength and character within them, rusalka was all the better for it.