Blackwater Islands spiritglass

my keeper, she sighed in soft tones, whimsical and inviting on this strange, restless night. grim. the earth was singing to her, its music humming in her bones and her blood. long had she toiled at the work of the spirit, leaving the needs of the flesh to wallow in neglect.

but no longer.

teeth and tongue found fur, then flesh; grooming, teasing, coaxing. in this moment she was not the listener. she was mortal, melting, lost to their embrace.

and in its warmth, she felt herself born anew.