Ankyra Sound angels clawed with burnished wings still loyal kiss the seal

Her silence seemed to be the only invitation Erzulie needed to speak, and it would be a lie to say the words didn't hurt.  But they weren't a surprise either.  From the beginning, it had been her wife and Caiaphas on opposition, and ever since her return, she'd accepted that she would be the one to sacrifice her own wants.  

That didnt mean she liked it, and it was impossible for her to hide the marks Erzulie's staunch defense left.

Okay then.

All this time, her anger had been the sure confidence that they were wrong and that she was right.  That war would bring ruin and fighting Drageda was a pointless waste.  But with a history like hers... who the hell was she to say what was right?

She'd allowed her own mother to take her first home from her.  She'd allowed Sarai to take the second.  Caiaphas herself had bested her to steal the third, and she'd allowed the last to be stolen by the beast who had stormed their shore.  Now, she'd let Drageda steal this one from her.  By capturing her, by taking time as well as security, they had poisoned this place for her.  As much as she tried she couldn't feel for it as Erzulie or the rest did.  

That didn't make her feeling correct, or mean that they should feel the same.

Instantly, like a candle extinguished, all the fight left her.  Let them make war.  Let them do what they would, and let her bear the consequences of their choices.  She was tired of bearing the ones from her own.  She'd thought this when she first joined, she remembered... but it hadn't rung true.  She'd still silently held onto the idea that in the end, a part of the choice would be hers.

It had never been hers, and it never should have been.  She was no captain in any of their eyes, this time not even the only ones that mattered.

She felt a lonely emptiness open up in her center, and for a moment, she struggled with it.  Then she swallowed and looked at her wife, standing before Caiaphas.  And when she spoke, it was the siren's gaze she met with her singular eye.

You'll lead, when you can.  I can't and I shouldn't.  I was a fool to think otherwise, she silently added, before bitterly pushing her way out of the den and into the clear ocean air.  As soon as she had, and after taking a deep shakey breath, she lifted her head and howled a resolute renouncement of her claim upon the sound.