Broken Boulder potatoes

In time, Olive had gotten used to thinking of the sanctuary as their home. Whether for the time being or not, the fae did not know — she wasn’t entirely sure what her future held, but as long as it had her family in it, she was fine with whatever came her way. The stars would guide her, and her loves would bolster her. There was no way that she could lose.

The pale woman was charting the innards of her new home when she came across her little son, doing very much the same thing. For a silent moment she watched him, a dulcet song settling across her heart as she looked upon her flesh and blood, and then swept her gaze across the scene for Eleuthera, or Ibis and Okeanos. They were not in the immediate vicinity, so Olive cooly strode forward and made herself known to the pudgy Séamus with an endearing kiss on the forehead. One day he might rebuke her affections, but she assumed today would not be that day. 

“Oh, little love,” she cooed. “What are you doing?”