Stavanger Bay There's talk goin round this town, keep it down now

erzulie glanced out of doors as rosalyn spoke, turning back when she felt the pressure of the first mate's eyes upon her own visage. the wounded creature was both gentle and firm in confirmation of her imperfection. the harlot's lips curved into a smile quite largely for herself — rosalyn was a humble creature. fierce, and yet without arrogance.
unlike smokestep, erzulie felt.
"dat is true," the spice-edged wolfess murmured, casting her two-toned gaze over the drying lines of herbs along rosalyn's wounds. "young men be de hardest when de do not know from where it comes." and she, young also, but with a trade cradled in her past that had aged her beyond the delicacy of her features. at times, it settled upon her, and erzulie felt the threat of it now. standing to her paws, the harlot cleared her throat and paced lightly to the entryway. "will a storm rise today, do you t'ink?" came her low trill, her mint-gaze sweeping back to rosalyn along the line of one creme shoulder.