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

"perhaps you might see its appeal this time," erzulie suggested in a featherlight tone, though her gaze, gold and green in the broad seaside light, traveled over toward stryx with an open, if neutral expression. onward; she thought of the way the crab had been left, its own body portions a signpost for whoever might wish the meal.
intriguing.
did stryx think of herself in such a way? erzulie did not see how. the mantle the healer wore now seemed nigh impenetrable. perhaps that was her work, then, to be available but not.
mind runaway, spinning its yarns; the harlot silently chided herself, gathering up their spools. "very well. dey have t'ree ot'er siblings between dem dis year," she added, "so many teachers an' playmates." this time erzulie did not look to the guarded physician. "would you like to see dem, one day? dey should know de face of de one who helped to save life in at de beginning."