Stavanger Bay earth and sea cower from my screams

the sea called. and to its arms she would go.
erzulie's tread was confident when at sunhigh she emerged on the sands near the careful markings of wolves. "gason," came her soft mutter in the butter-rich tones of the tongue taught to her by roux and by octave. the woman had dedicated herself to recalling the names of her sire and dam each day — she would not allow their memory to fade from the halls of her mind.
but now, now — oh, they do not know! — she swept her cinnamon ears forward and narrowed her mismatched eyes. the roar of the sea reverberated around erzulie. remember what lives within such places, sweet girl, octave had instructed in regards to the bottomless saltwater — and presently her croon for leadership floated into the cold air, a full-throated and sultry lilt that held smoke at its edges.