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Moonspear love is a many splendored thing - Printable Version

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love is a many splendored thing - Olive - June 24, 2017

theme — moonsea by phidel
trigger warning


Olive didn’t know when it happened or why, but one day she woke up and everything she loved was gone.

“Aries! Dakarai!”

The pale woman cried out as loud as her quivering body would let her. She would continue to yell out these two names for hours, days, weeks even! She would search until her voice ran hoarse and her feet pounded bloody against the ground, because even that would be less painful than the realization that both her star-crossed lover and her little warrior child had forsaken her. It was unfathomable, and the druid could not reckon with such a reality, and in her frustrations a disturbing, catlike series of yips and strangled cries rose into the nights and continued throughout the days — the sounds of a mother maddened by the loss of her family.

Olive had once been a vigilant caretaker, rarely letting the wolves she loved stray far from where her eyes or nose could track them — but the woman had since developed a sense of trust in Moonspear. Charon and Hydra turned out to be no real threat so she allowed her family wandered the mountain unrestrained, so long as they returned to the den at night unmolested. They always returned to the den. every night! So when Dakarai did not make it home one night, then two, she held Cassiopeia and Aries close and made herself believe he simply needed space. It had not been long since their unholy tryst and the fiery dispute that resulted — it made sense that he would pull away and retire to some stronghold beyond the mountain to ride out the intensities of his anger. But once Dakarai’s enmity dissipated, he would return to her. He could come back to their family and they would welcome him eagerly. That’s how it always was. He always came back! Always.

“Aries, my child, where are you—!”

The pale, frail form of the mother wolf darted too and from the mountain, over the landscape, running and sprinting and darting as fast as she could, here and there, zigzagging all over the place in a frenzied attempt to find any sort of indication where her beloveds had gone. @Cassiopeia was under strict orders not to the leave the confines of their den; the small, peppery girl was the last vestige of her once-happy life and her life could not be trusted with anyone; not even the wolves of Moonspear, not until the mother understood the nature of the two’s separate disappearances — but Dakarai’s scent trails were too old and too faint to be followed and Aries’s breadcrumbs, though they were newer, just… stopped. Olive could not possibly fathom why that would be — did not want to think of the possibilities! — and in a sudden fright, the waif skittered back to the mountain. If her olfactory senses would get her no where, then perhaps the elevations of Moonspear would allow her to glimpse them.

She raced towards the mountain, unceremoniously passing the remnants of her garden, which had gone unattended to and desiccated in the dry summer’s heat — but not a thought was spared to the flowers and herbs that had taken so many hours of her life to grow. Olive climbed higher and higher and pulled her frail body upwards — and it took quite some time with her body and spirit so weakened under the weight of her melancholy. But the mother pushed on, from where the mountaineer terrain turned from green to rocky and sometimes the earth would slip beneath her feet and she would stumble and clip her pale chin upon the ground. It was a treacherous height to scale even for a climber as shrewd and as dextrous she! the entire time her heart raced and blood thrummed hotly through her veins, her head throbbed and an upwelling of anxieties leached out from the deepest recesses of her soul, so much so that it clouded her mind entirely. Not a single thought she had was not tainted with some poignant sense of self-loathing. it’s my fault. they hate me. it’s my fault. they hate me and that’s why they left.

There was a small ledge that rose from the rocky face of Moonspear’s upper reaches, so Olive picked her way to it and hauled her small body atop it. Here she squinted and strained against the light of the summer’s day, but the land below was nothing but a smattering of greens and browns that her canine eyes could make no sense of. If they either Dakarai or Aries had been within that range, there was no way she would be able to espy them. Somehow, at that moment, she understood that she was never to see either of them again.

"oh..."

— and suddenly she felt sorry, so very sorry! Sorry that she had ever met Dakarai, had ever made him love her, had spurned him and turned him away. To turn away the only wolf who had ever truly loved her; it seemed so silly now! Olive could trust her logical mind and rationality no more than she could trust the fickleness of the gods — her decisions always seemed so right in the moment, but they always sparked, conflagrated and then fizzled into a beautiful kaleidoscope of horrors. She could not trust herself, could not trust this world, could not trust the gods. Oh! Those lovely gods, the gods seemed to only wish pain upon her — upon her! their most faithful and devoted servant.

Had she not done enough for them? Why did they continue to punish her? Was her happiness was not enough? Perhaps they wanted more from her. They would continue to hurt those around her until she truly gave the gods what they desired. But what more did they have to give — what more could they want from her?

All she had left to give was her life.

Her sullen, faded gaze fell from the horizon and all the land that lay beneath, straight down the rocky face of the mountain’s steep summit, counting the stones as if they were rosary beads and wondering how painful a death upon them would be. Surely, at these heights, death would come quickly. Maybe she wouldn’t feel it. Perhaps it would even feel good.

It was at this point that her racing thoughts slowed and her heart beat cut its breakneck pace; it was with a sudden calmness that she laid down on the small ledge, her pointed chin and paws hanging languidly over the side of the cliff. Surely she was not the first wolf to ascend these heights and consider dashing herself upon the rocks below, and surely she would not be the last! If that was the case, how wrong could it really be? The longer she resisted, the more the gods would storm and hurt Cassiopeia, Sirius, Dakarai and Aries — if the latter two were even still alive to know future hurts. Her sobs and ungodly cries had quieted and Olive felt a pervasive sense of emptiness settle upon her — nothingness. 

The woman weighed her options and stared emptily at the stonelaced valley below.



RE: love is a many splendored thing - Cassiopeia - June 24, 2017

the girl crouched, apprehensive, tail lashing around her spindly limbs. seldom did her fiery, bold disposition falter, and yet, it was one of those times. strict orders held her here, but her heart wondered, and yearned, and worried, and pulled her from the slipper hold of her mother's commands. when did she listen to a command, anyways? it took but a few more minutes for her to creep forward, leave the comfort that was the den, and watch with careful eyes the clearing around her home. when no words reprimanded her, when no threat made itself known and her courage swelled up like a crashing wave, she bolted from the den, setting upon her mother's trail ravenously.

for close to an hour did she wander then, her mother's trails wild and pacing, and often did she abandon a trail for a fresher one, only to realise that there was yet another more promising trail, until her head spun and irritation had her ears splayed against her head.  who knew where Da was, the black mountain that he was. he shouldn't be able to hide, and yet she could not find him, even when she looked in all her own favourite spots. her brother, too, was hiding from them. her gaze flickered to the incline, the verdant mountainside above her. how easy it would be, how useful, to be upon that mountain. to see all, and see her mother perhaps. the thought had but crossed her mind, and the girl was off.

not easy. the girl laboured, tongue lolling from her maw as she paused. the climb became treacherous, slick, and the gods smiled on her when the clouds above did not break; rain would have had the mountain become a trap for one as small and less than graceful as her. as she stumbled blindly up the mountain, which she saw now as a challenge, rather than a way to find her mother, and perhaps brother and father. she couldn't know her brother, couldn't find the other, and too could not find her father. but this, this she could do, she determined. every slip of her paws, every stumble backwards, had her heart launch into her throat with the same speed as one of the many rocks that tumbled down the mountainside, rocks that she had dislodged. but the drifting scent of her mother, barely tangible, but close,  had it settle firmly back into her chest, and her paws bring her further up the mountainside.

the last slide was not like the rest. she struggled through low, ground-hugging shrubs, twisted and cruelly poking at her limbs with every step.  she lunged forward, desperate, to be clear of the bushes that seemed to entangle her. her her leap did not land, her limbs did not cling to the mountainside with the learned ease of the adults. paws scrambled, but the mountain offered no hold, and she skidded backward, past the undergrowth, until one of her flailing limbs jammed into a foothold, twisting, the others kicking furiously over open air, before gaining hold on rock and loose earth. she yelped, unbidden, a sound of fear and hurt, gaze wide in the manner of a small child, just as they realise that they are hurt.

she trembled, and a mama died on her lips. she had been bad, she knew, she was always been rebelled against commands. but this one had been a serious one, and she had been bad, and now she knew hurt. she was silent, quivering, in lieu of direction, stood shock still on the mountainside, unable to place her leaping heart back where it belonged. 



RE: love is a many splendored thing - Olive - June 28, 2017

your post was lovely <3

The lamb’s addled mind struggled to contend with  her druthers, not entirely sure she could trust her own mind at that moment — but not strong enough to turn a blind eye to it. She did not know how long she laid upon the precipice, hanging her head off the bluff and feeling the cut of the rock press against the delicate underside of her throat. Her gaze, listless; her entire body, languid. The intensity of her emotions had abated, only to be replaced with that comforting sense of bespoke nothingness that whispered gently to her.

If you can’t do it for the gods, do it for yourself. Your life is not fair. Only then will you know happiness.

Indeed, this life has turned out not to be fair! Olive wanted to place the blame upon others just as much as she wanted to take that weight upon her own shoulders. The faces of Arturo and Isley, Lotte and Dakarai often arose in her third eyes and never failed to evince some curious mix of sorrow and longing from her soul — and  though she struggled not to remain bitter about the blights of the past, it was, truly, the future that concerned her most. But it didn’t have to be that way.

One small movement, that’s all it’ll take. The pain will cease. 

They would miss her, but not for long. Her memory would fade just as her body would decompose and fade from the jagged rocks below. Life would continue. Seasons would change. The sun would rise and set. The moon would wax and wane — all without her. Life would trudge on with or without her presence. The thought was comforting; comforting enough that the waif began to inch her scarred body closer to the edge until almost her entire chest hovered above the open air. It was agonizingly slow work, but in the end, all she needed to do was shift her weight and her entire life would be sent careening towards her ultimate fate. If she was to die someday, why not now? Why survive this torture when she would, eventually, meet the same end?

A hollow slip of the rocks and a small, cub-like cry tore Olive from this self-imposed prison. Somehow, without seeing or knowing what it was — she knew.

“Cass!”

Had the pale woman misstepped, she would have certainly met the end that she so desire moments before. But her pointed paws found purchase upon the thin bluff and her body fluttered to the epicenter of the sound and her mind did not touch the concept of suicide again.

When her eyes met those of her only daughter’s, the miniature version of the husband she had lost, Olive’s breath hitched her her throat and she could not find it. Her heart seared with hurt and questioning, but her mind did not have the space to mull over these emotions as she had before. The priority now was her progeny; hurt and hanging onto a rock face by the catch of her tiny, nascent limb. Controlling her voice carefully, Olive crooned. “Mommy’s here. Stardust, it will be alright” The mother looked up and her eyes darted nervously in an attempt to understand her new options. There was a moment when Olive believed there were none — that Cassiopeia would lose her unintentional foothold and her small body would fall and crumple as Olive wished her own would — and her fate would be seal. Then, the true hatred of the omnipotent would be known.  Biting her tongue and tasting blood, the slight woman braced her weight and peddled her front half down the steep slope — but it was not enough to reached the shadowed girl; her only babe.

“Just… reach for me, baby, please,” 

“Reach for me…”


Through many struggles, mother and child were eventually reunited. Huddled together and shivering for the fright, Olive whispered many maternal promises in the small girl's ear... the smallest replica of the father she had never stopped loving.