Dragoncrest Cliffs Wisenheimer

i love him so much ahahsjssslshsgdgddg

the embrace of the ice transformed erzulie into a siren of ice. her breath came more easily; she dipped her head beneath the frosted surface, feeling the sting of the cold along nose and the delicate silk of her ears. when she could bear it no longer, erzulie breached the ocean with a gasp, turning her spice-muzzle to see poor merlin spluttering upon the beach.
"pauvre garçon," the harlot clucked when she had come to join him upon the sands. "she not be a mistress wid an easy hand, de sea." there was no shame in ducking from the salt this time; the skill of it was eventual, inevitable so long as one lived alongside the ocean. 
if merlin bore no qualms, erzulie would seek now to help comb the brinewater from his shoulders and ruff.