Dragoncrest Cliffs [m] by far surpassing mortals in beauty,

The young man practically fell into her embrace. A willing captive.

—

After, the seafarer spooned his paramour, strong jaw resting across her shoulder, and basked in her afterglow. A lazy satisfaction made his eyelids heavy, expression contented as he breathed slowly and deeply, as if to savor the moment. Aftercare – their closeness - was almost as satisfying as their secret act.

Erzulie’s singsong voice stirred him from near sleep. Tell me some'ting of yourself, she beckoned. “Hmm,” he drawled, pondering out loud. “Like wha?” Nobody had ever asked him something like that before, and Njord had somewhat forgotten that others didn’t spend time in his head. “Well… this one time, me sister slipped on a rock an’ fell in ta tha wat’r. Nearly drowned… She was so abashed, she blamed me an’ said I pushed ‘er! Me grandfather made me sleep out on a cold ocean rock in tha dead o' wint'r…” he laughed. “Guess I ‘ad a bit of a reputation as a hellion when I was a lad.”

Njord paused, glassy eyes reflecting sentimental thoughts as memories came pooling back into his mind. “I got loads of stories like those… Some ‘ow I always took the blame.” He chuckled in good humor, “a fox-tailed scape goat. But they were wrong. I’m a lov’r… not a fight’r.” At this, he landed a gentle kiss on Erzulie’s cheek.