Hushed Willows blue, green, or black; smooth or mountainous; that ocean is not silent

dated to the 17th - AW

she comes here for she does not know who among Rusalka to trust, nor does she wish in any way to expose what ails her. she herself does not know it, only that ignoring the early nausea has not stopped the progression of whatever slow illness sinks its claws into her. this time she doesn't call, nor does she bring the gift of prey she'd brought last. there is a constant hunger now that demands to be obeyed in a manner quite unlike the familiar hunger she had known as a wanderer, and the feeble fowl she'd caught had vanished shortly down her maw. she will search for her mother in silence, some part of her almost wishing she were away so that she may go on ignoring whatever ails her. 

but her search for @Olive is persistent and follows loosely the trail they had walked the last time they had been together. hunger begins its incessant keening again, and the woman's ears flick in irritation. with new grasp on her place in the pack, she can not afford weakness and the potential for the northern boy to take back his former place. it is hers won fairly and she will not let it slip. pausing, she notes the freshness of her mother's scent here, and calls softly lest she be nearby. stilling, she waits.

Olive was languishing in the last trimester of her pregnancy, knowing that everything, everywhere was as fine and fine could be. Long gone were the times of wanting and worries; now was the time for gratitude and contentedness. She stayed close to her two wives when she wished for company and bade herself the freedom to leave when she wished to be alone. Amongst that and her ever-present desire to swim and feast upon meat as would a normal carnivore [the only urge that ever overtook her when she was pregnant], she was kept rather busy.  

She was walking aimlessly amongst the willows, as she do, when she came across Cassioepia’s trail. Happiness lit every nerve ending in her body as a skip lighted her step and she made haste towards her star-speckled daughter. “Cassiopeia! What a lovely surprise,” she called out when the rump of the dark girl came into sight; Olive quickly overtook her and came up beside her, planting a familiar kiss behind Cass’s ear as she did so. “How are you?” she questioned, Cassiopeia’s scent not yet strong enough to write the story on its own. The druid smiled at this coincidence, loving that her daughter felt safe enough within the sanctuary to come and go as she pleased, like a second home. 

despite the gnawing upset, the girl's muzzle twisted into a small smile when the voice of her mother became apparent. she half spun to meet her, turning the right way round again when her mother drew up alongside. humming a note, she pressed her muzzle to her mother's cheek, her sweet scent comforting always. she, and her sanctuary, were a welcome reprieve from Rusalka and the sea-wolves, albeit one she did not think she would have needed. "olive," she uttered, pleased. 

her tongue flicked out to brush over her lips, the only sign of her discontent. "I think I am sick." she was more convinced that there was something innately wrong with her - she'd suffered through sickness in the past, yes, more dire than this. but this gradual decline was ominous in its creeping slowness, and she would have much preferred some more obvious ailment. 

her mother's pregnancy is obvious, now, and she pauses in her thoughts to wonder when they'll come. she'd been more removed from her mother's past litters, but she does not want theses half-siblings to grow up and leave without her knowing them, first - perhaps it was the meeting with Maegi that had inspired this, the guilt that she had left the pup - now woman - to her own fate when she'd escaped, that inspires this change of heart. she wants to ask when they are due, but this is certainly allowing herself an out of something she's hesitant to admit in the first place, and so she continues with her purpose here. "I feel - off. wrong." it's a stupid explanation, and she chides herself for it. still, she doesn't know quite how to articulate it.

i’ve always dreamt of olive being a grammie ♡ thank you for this gift!

Cassiopeia did not outwardly express her happiness as Olive did, but the mother knew that deep inside, beside her gruff, single-word greeting, there was happiness at seeing each other once more. Out of all her children, Cassiopeia was the only one to ever return, so that surely meant something. 

But this day’s visit was not a joyful one, Olive realized as the star-stained girl expressed her concerns. The druid stopped her strut, canting her head towards Cassiopeia in earnest. She took health quite seriously, especially when they came from one as tight-lipped [and as dear to her] as Cassiopeia. “I’m glad you’ve come,” she said matter-of-factly. If Cassiopeia didn’t want to wait to get to the point, then neither did she. “What seems to be the matter?” 

I'm so excited for them! <3

her simple happiness was tarnished by her reason for being here, the bare inklings of suspicion that gathered like dust in the far corners of her mind. she is silent a moment after her mother's question, attempting still to assemble the exact words to explain her condition. "lethargy, aching, nausea. something I've ignored, but it doesn't cease." it was an accumulation of symptoms benign enough to warrant her blatant disregard of them, but it was their persistence that bothered her so. 

aloud, it sounds foolish, and she expects her mother to know of some herb, some practice, that would see the symptoms fade. her muzzle curves a fraction, and she pokes her muzzle to her mother's should. "perhaps it is nothing." she offers, though the words don't sound entirely sincere and as is apparent enough bu her coming here, her initial worry, she doubts it is the case. 

Olive’s expression grew stern as Cassiopeia listed her symptoms. Her daughter felt lethargic, achey and nauseous — all signs of the flu, or perhaps something worse. The nurse listened astutely, nodding every other moment as she gave Cassiopeia is once-over, a visual inspection. This yielded nothing out of the ordinary [although the mother was surprised at how many scars littered her daughters body, carefully hidden by her dark fur] so Olive leaned in close and inspected her by scent. Still, nothing super strange.

The druid pursed her lips and bit at the inside of her cheek. Just because Olive couldn’t find anything outwardly wrong with her daughter, but that didn’t mean the experience of her illness wasn’t real. Pain and nausea were something that needed to be dealt with, for the sufferers sake. “You don’t smell or appear to be diseased,” she said, not in disbelief. "and you’re much too young for most other ailments.” Not to say it didn’t happen, but it was unlikely. Then, the thought struck her — Cassiopeia was a young girl no more. She had met a man, she had disclosed in their last meeting. This opened up a new realm of possibilities that, quick frankly, delighted the druid.

Unable to help the smile from spreading across her lips, she questioned “Did you cycle this year?” and raised a motherly eyebrow. Now was not the time to be shy.

her mother's words both quelled her worry that the meddlesome symptoms were the harbingers of some greater ailment, and brought the heat of shame to her chest for making such an ordeal out of nothing. she was close to offering something resembling an apology when the smile spread across her mother's face, and confusion gave way to surprise. "yes. when I realized, I kept isolated." but already her ignorance is crumbling, to be replaced by something much more substantial and much more terrifying. when she realized. with Vaati, she would have known, and she wouldn't have. tongue flicked out to smooth over her lips, the only external sign of worry that signaled she was not as confident as her words. 

Olive sensed the shame that came to her daughter — perhaps the midwife shouldn’t have been so brazen, but it gave her the answers she needed to know. She played right into the overzealous, kind-of-intrusive mother trope! A huge smile spread across her face, and though she did not want to make any quick assumption and throw her daughter for a loop, Olive knew immediately what this way.

She raised an eyebrow at the star-spangled girl nonetheless. “Daughter,” she addressed. “You did not do a good job,” though she kept her tone buoyant and light. “Because I do believe you are pregnant!” the words nearly burst from her mouth, giving Cassiopeia a sniff to confirm. The scent was light, but now that she knew to search for it, it was clearly there.

She attempted to stymie her excitement, for stoic Cassiopeia’s stake. Still, she danced her front paws against the earth and mused laughingly “Can you imagine, you a mother and me, a grandmother?” and turned to her daughter. “We must celebrate!” For this was a good thing, even if the father was truly a good-for-nothing who hung out far on the coast.