Seaside Moors why did i call again,

a musical child then. erzulie marvelled at all of chacal as the child moved beneath the gentle touch of twined notes and an old, old melody. when the jezebel had finished, she kissed her daughter between the downy ears, exclaiming beneath her breath in a blend of the first tongues she had known.
she was no longer worried that no words would come to chacal, for the the artistry of song was all the exemplified gifts that the season's last child would need. healer, pirate, and now creator of arias; chacal had never ceased to be a wondering glitter in the eyes of her maman.