Seaside Moors Broken merry go round

erzulie scowled, tugging herself from the den. it was the harshest part of pregnancy, she decided: the fatness. the laboured breath at the end. she was a waddling fool, and this colored the beta's mood as she strode down to meet the caller.
a pretty young woman with moonlit eyes, youthful enough to both remind erzulie of harps and reflect upon her own fading beauty. whether or not it was the truth, the harlot had felt inferior as of late, but kept this locked behind careful mouth as she flung up  her plume and eyed the stranger with silent expectation.