Seaside Moors Maybe I should get to church on Sunday...

Stryx had been around, but had never heard anyone speak with the lilt that Erzulie now did. She abbreviated words heavily and the accent, while fitting, sounded odd to her ears - but it wasn't worth commenting on. Curiouser was the manner in which Erzulie spoke of Raleska, refuting that they held such a familial bond, before probing for more details.

It wasn't Stryx's place to explain anything. Such a traumatic event would sit with Raleska for a long while, perhaps never leaving her, as it had left an indelible impression upon the new mother; thus, it was not for Stryx to share. She kept it brief.

There was a seaside grotto. She needed aid, and I was nearby. A shrug. As if saving someone's life was as easily and commonly done as any other task. Remembering being elbow-deep in seeping blood while voices stormed around her in that sullen space, Stryx's gaze glossed, becoming distant, and she steadied herself with a deep breath. It had been a traumatic scene for her, too. I am glad she survived - as well as those kids.