Dragoncrest Cliffs now, I shall sing these songs

erzulie chuckled. "i be doin' it every winter. keeps de muscles tight an' hard." she felt that she had embodied it well: despite her years, the obsidian had remained sinewy and flexible. she credited the ocean with this. 
her mind filled with how he had turned away from her older son. and why. she did not think it was reyes which had taken the emerald from what she felt was his solid footing within sapphique.
what erzulie did not consider, for so long it had been normal, was that men were not recognized in a large way among them. she thought of anigan, firefly, rosencrantz, kaertok, njord; she thought of the men whose faces she had forgotten and the ones who had been in rusalka.
and her own sons.
how would they fare once she and rosalyn had gone?
yes, she had seen the ageing and sudden, fey nature of her wife; she had spent long hours looking at rosalyn perhaps more than before, and she had certainly gazed at her mate many thousands of times in their lives.
reyes' visit, seeing her grandchildren, had inspired in erzulie her first true thoughts of mortality.
the silence had grown too long. 
she breathed in.
"i be thinking about de future."
about her sons — about her daughters.