Seaside Moors Back To the Sea!

erzulie chuffed lightly, returning marisol's nudge. her daughter's voice was light, juxtaposed against the rich spice of her coat. so like her own. so like that of late firefly. but she would not think of him now. "i trust you, rosencrantz," the harlot purred in answer. "you would not choose a place for me widout wisdom."
she could have chosen her own shelter, but the idea of scouring through the moors together in search of a whelping den for the next generation of rusalkans held great appeal. she was happy, then, to defer to the scarred man's lead, flanking him with quiet support as she rejoiced in the presence of them both.