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

a pall fell between them. she could have clucked, for one of erzulie's greatest faults was her love of the pursuit, a footrace that ended in the halls of one's heart. stryx grew immeasurably intriguing to the jezebel, but she took up the heavy hint. "it is a wonder, what one can do wid freedom."
had the shackles not yet been loosed from her counterpart? erzulie recalled her months of anger, and of pain, when marie whom she had loved, had thrown her aside. a girl, and the best years of her given to the dapper clients who visited the dove's parlor. erzulie, come here, and she had, meek, unaware of her beauty then.
a slamming inward of doors upon that chapter — that lord and his unending appetite.
she said no more, only hummed warmly beneath her breath as she bent to explore one track or another that crossed their own. stryx could not be pushed, nor tried; erzulie held her curiosity to her own bosom.