Seaside Moors left the best of all husbands

erzulie had not forgotten her promise to @Chacal.
when spring truly brought its flowers and its peace, she made her way to @Rosalyn to inform her of the plans for a trip down to the moors. sapphique was peaceful for now, and her pirate-wife would be supported by njord. 
and, while it was truly too soon to know, erzulie suspected that summertime might bring new life, and bind her close to the cliffs.
she and her daughter would be gone for some days, but she welcomed it, meaning to fill many of the hours with song and speech. she spoke of the deer-herd that haunt had watched and tended, passing on the tell of them in case the girl had missed any of it.
and when, eventually, she and chacal had come back to the moors, erzulie inhaled the clean salt air of the open place and sighed.
"ça fait du bien d'être de retour."

he'd wandered again, though he had promised himself he wouldn't. well, he supposed it was wandering with a purpose. he was too old to scout, and yet he did it regardless, venturing beyond the bounds of his claims, past the bay and onto the moors.

after a brief bloom of members, goings-on at the plateau had subsided, and with them, his spirits.

perhaps he was too old for this, aditya thought. too old to carve a pack from nothing. he hadn't even accomplished it as a younger man; morningside had been handed to him, and parivaar torn asunder by a storm. he watched his step along the open ground, watching for gopher holes. an ankle injury would take twice or thrice as long to heal, now, as it once had.

yes. maybe he was too old. the brown and cream figure drew him, mercifully, from these dark musings. no—two of them. but his eyes were drawn to the first wolf; there was something familiar about them. he approached with a chuff, chin lifted, wondering—hoping—that they sought a home.

a home he could give. for now, anyway.

feel free to hop in anytime, jess <3

they were not alone here. erzulie knew she should not be surprised, but the feeling fluttered all the same as a gilded figure approached with a warm aspect to him. the obsidian cast her eyes carefully upon his features, searching for anything that would spell danger to she or chacal. a second glance, to ascertain the position of the little jackal before returning her cool attention to the stranger.
since he had come forth first, she would allow him that word as well. two-toned gaze was polite but observant, and in answer to his low and friendly sound, the harlot gave a single sway of her plume in answer.

oh shit, aditya thought, i know this woman. we smashed way back when, when i called myself govinda.

hating that the past continued to haunt him, the old man ran from his one-time-stand. perhaps he would never come back to the teekons again. too many ghosts.