Dragoncrest Cliffs sharing tree shade with a butterfly

Rosalyn hit the nail right on the head. Sobo was grateful for her ability to cut right to the chase. He bobbed his head, but clarified something that had become crystalline to him over the past few weeks: my family be my purpose, but I be wantin' to do more.

He waited with bated breath as Erzulie silently deliberated. Sobo had come into this expecting a solid no and unsure how he would proceed with knowing it was final. Perhaps he would take up residence at the bay when he and Mireille left the moors for home, create something for himself, support Sapphique from afar. He had laid the plans for this in his head long before coming to speak to his mothers, for he felt sure their denial would be swift and absolute. Sapphique was a place of women. A man could never stand at the head of it.

He was shocked, then, to find this was not the case. Rosalyn said nothing, but Erzulie agreed after some long moments of thought. His breath went out of him slowly. T'ank you,, manman, he said, feeling giddy and lightheaded in a way he hadn't in a long, long while. It didn't show in the stoic lines of his body, long schooled away from boyish prancing, but was likely obvious in the way he pressed forward to butt his head lovingly and gratefully against both his mothers in turn.

Chacal. There was still the possibility Chacal would be opposed, but he felt he had a good relationship with her. He felt she would see in him a desire to serve, not a desire to take. He would let Erzulie speak to her; she could speak in confidence with their mother in a way she could not if he was the one who asked, he saw that now.

There was a possibility Mireille would be opposed, or would feel her ascension downplayed — he did not want to know if that was so.

He glanced politely away as Erzulie shared a moment with Rosalyn; he would be on his way if they wished for privacy now.