Ankyra Sound and the cries of your writhings shall rise

slapping a fade on this so we can have a new one

"he was," erzulie answered quietly, resting her muzzle upon rosalyn's shoulder once more. would he be proud of her, she wondered in silence. would he appreciate the desperation that had driven her to marie's shadow, then the pride that kept her there? and now, her wife, her children? could he find it in him to love a child so untraditional by nature?
a sigh feathered from her throat. it did not truly matter; she was loved, and in turn she loved. the little den was proof of that, and erzulie smiled gently against rosalyn's pelt with a deep contentment.