Totoka River compose a poem, an honest verse of longing
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Ooc — Rosie
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Master Midwife
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#11
Shall we tie up this golden oldie?

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If Carina had wanted a story, well, she wouldn’t have to wait long — as fate would have it, Olive soon found the legends of old upon her tongue and a curious glint in her eye.  Olive’s eyes followed the aquamarine gaze of the girl, seemingly trained to find the constellation. Once they had found the crystalline fixture, they did not leave it — instead, they hovered over the distant light [millions of years old at that point] as if she drew the words directly from the depths themselves. 

“Kalb al-Ra’i  is known as the heart of the shepherd,” Olive began, jostling the girl affectionately with a bump of her shoulder — though she was mindful to the sensitive belly that existed between them. “it is blindly goodhearted and capable of intense passions… when the gods argue and bang their fists, and even when we can hear it in the squalling of the weather and in the tremors underground, it is always Kalb al-Ra’i that settles the forces and brings them to peace.” Olive’s toes flex against the ground as she witnessed the scene play out before her very eyes. — the captivation stirs the lives in her belly and she can feel them roll against the confines of her womb. They wanted to see, too.

But the movement from within reunited soul with body. Olive blinked several times, then looked at Carina and tuckered her nose into the black feathering of the sheepdog’s tufted ear. It felt nice to be so close to another, so intimate with another besides Dakarai. She had so few friends these days. “It is said that, because of this, those who identify with Kalb al-Ra’i tend to have skills in medicines,” Olive picked up her head and shot Carina an exclamative look, having just discovered the synchronism herself. “I kid you not!” she said laughingly, shaking her head and, at last, pulling away from Carina’s side to dance in a circle and face the young girl.

”The night is getting late.” Olive commented, almost disheartened at the late hour. It was at this point that Dakarai would wonder where his wife went, as he was prone to do in this stage of her pregnancy. ”We can offer you shelter ’til the morning…” Teaglaigh’s compliance in this offer was something the fae was not sure of — but Olive was not going to leave her friend wanting if she was in need.
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and all my days are trances, and all my nightly dreams
are where thy grey eye glances, and where thy footstep gleams
in what ethereal dances, by what eternal streams

Messages In This Thread
compose a poem, an honest verse of longing - by Olive - February 27, 2017, 12:07 AM
RE: compose a poem, an honest verse of longing - by Olive - February 28, 2017, 12:53 PM
RE: compose a poem, an honest verse of longing - by Olive - May 07, 2017, 09:37 PM