Dragoncrest Cliffs Don't Do Sadness

erzulie was beginning to fall into a sort of languishing pain as she traversed the cliffs again. she had never known drageda's inward territories, but each time she passed by the place her pirate had been held, hurt, a clench of her jawline accompanied the sight. part of her wished to singe the memory from her mind through consult with the loa. 
and part of her wished never to be there again. it was the latter that drew her from the heights and to the more welcoming parts of the ocean-shelves. rosencrantz and njord below her; from this distance she could see the scarring of the archangel's face, and the boy's distinctive red tail notably free of humour. he limped. her gaze narrowed.
the woman was among them swiftly, noting with tight-lipped observation the state of his paw, his face with the affected eye. a glance to rosencrantz, and then she was wending protectively around njord, directing the trio toward the small alcove where she kept her herbs. "who did dis? where have dey gone?" she asked calmly of them both, though the steeled honey at the bottom of her voice might infer her own reactive propensity for violence.