The Sunspire my dove, my lamb

set for 4/20 blaze it 
pping sb with permission

The cramping that plagued the druid the entire day prior did not abate — and the very second she recognized the oh-so-familiar familiar ebb and flow, the midwife knew what was up. 

Birth was an experience that had nearly petrified the fragile woman in the past [she keenly remembered clinging to Dakarai and expressing such fears unto him] but Olive took to this as she took to pregnancy, motherhood and all other things: with high expectations and a refined sense of grace. So when Olive came to her ultimate understanding she was, not surprisingly, reclining in a sun-dappled dell just a moment’s jaunt from her whelping den. Safe within the confines of Sunspire, she felt no need seek her subterranean sanctuary; the gentle, springtide weather had always nurtured her more than dirt and rocks every could.

With the copious amount of free time that she was blessed with the past nine weeks, the mother-to-be was able to monitor her pregnancy closely and had become quite familiar with the small beings that grew within her. She knew the foods they loved and their favorite hours of the day, for they quickened in the early morning and then again late at night. The mother sung to her belly constantly and knew that their favorite sounds were low and lilting. She knew how they felt when they rolled about within her womb, already exhibiting such character for spirits not yet born. They were passionate and wise and certainly lovely, for they were souls even older than she — and she was simply the conduit the gods saw fit to bring them to life.  How blessed was she!

Above all, the shakti woman knew that they already loved each other and knew that, despite their lack of a father, her family would be faultless and whole — and, dare I say it, immaculate? 

Needless to say, Olive had been eagerly preparing for and awaiting this moment for some time now and was thrilled to see this process through. She sauntered over to her garden, stepping gingerly and pacing herself through the throes of pre-labor pains. Here she had cultivated a crop chamomile, lavender and raspberry for this very purpose — and for Seabreeze’s purpose, and Liffey’s purpose — but the shoots were much too new and fine and did not yet grow in a summer-like overabundance. Careful not to strip the garden fully, Olive set about delicately snipping conscripted shoots and leaves to carry back with her for later.

She wished to let @Forrest and @Seabreeze and @Cassiopeia know, but Olive would rather endure the entirety of her labor and delivery alone than loose a howl and alert their thriving pack of her delicate state. Oh no, her fine sense of modesty would not allow for that, so Olive cursed the fact that she did not have some sort of ingenious pocket computer with which she could text her friends with and tell them to come over. Instead, all she could do was wait in a crampy, eager silence and pluck away at her many herbs.

When the task was complete and the tender little buds of chamomile were piled in a small bouquet, she picked then up gingerly in her mouth and carried them back to her dwelling; it was more a crack in the mountainside than it was a proper den, but she loved it and loved how she felt entirely safe being above ground in her newfound, thriving, well-defended parkland. Olive had never liked being underground, anyways, so this was quite the luxury! Furthermore, she wanted her babies to grow up experiencing the beauty of nature, even when they were nothing more than newborn milk-sodden babes — to learn to feel the godliness of the earth well before they opened their eyes. To know the gods before they let their faith be dictated by their sense of sight alone. Olive placed the bundle of yellow and white buds in the sun to dry.

It wasn’t long before her friend Seabreeze came for a visit. How happy Olive was! The two women embraced and while they were close, the laboring fae brought the other up to speed. “My time draws nearer.” she whispered eagerly into her friend’s ear, as she felt her stomach roll and womb quicken. She pressed her side to Seabreeze’s own, so that she could feel it, too. “You will stay, yes? They had agreed on it before, and there was no real reason for the other midwife might duck out now, but still she inquired. Olive would feel silly not to share this experience with another and hoard all the loveliness for herself. Plus, support of a fellow midwife could never be over-appreciated. Olive had already been blessed with one easy birth — would she really be blessed with two?

olive's tenderness never failed to surprise her; the seasprite's mouth parted gently as she felt the surprising roll of olive's children in her womb.  it was both frightening and awe-striking to wonder that soon, she would experience the same.

of course, she assured the woman of ash and bone, pressing her nose to the other's forehead.  you have chosen a lovely den.  her head craned up to peer at the sunlight that filtered in from above, and she noted how strangely safe she felt nestled between the slabs of stone.  are you ready?  

but she assumed that olive was.  in her eyes, olive took each of the world's punches with an effortless grace.

Olive leaned into Seabreeze’s touch, fully appreciating the overwhelming sense of calm she felt when in the other’s presence. Olive had great admiration for the sea sprite — there was a certain strength that came from staring your own mortality in the face, challenging it willingly, and surviving the live the tale — and she welcomed it with open arms and a loving heart. Perhaps the only other to receive such high accolades and familiarity from Olive would be Rannoch, and that had been for essentially saving her entire brood by letting them reside upon their mountain and subsist off of their wealth, acting very much as a leech in the river would. Yes, there was a strength in Rannoch too that Olive loved. She owed him very much for it — Liffey, too.

Despite the growing tensity of her womb, the fae beamed when complimented on her choice of dwelling. It was similar to the home she had shared with Dakarai and her firstborn litter of babes, amongst the bleeding arbors of Teaghlaigh; and, for all intents and purposes, she might as well have been there right now. Happy, safe and amongst friends — hopefully, this time it would last. “Oh my, thank you,” she tittered sweetly. “and, oh, how can I not be?” As she had spoke, the gravid woman found herself to be restless and began to indulge in a slow, feline-esque pacing in front of the fractured masonry that was her home; but when she asked her rhetorical question, Olive paused to look over her shoulder at Seabreeze and swish her tail.

“I am amongst the most wonderful of friends. I have met you!” the woman explained needlessly, but passionately. “My daughter Cassiopeia is with me, and I will soon be made a mother again. I am so ready for this. 

Her diatribe had ended and a smile remained upon her maw, but all that dissolved into a pained expression as her body bore down in its first real contraction. Olive grit her teeth against the discomfort, suddenly remembering all the birth pains of her first litter [the memory of which had been, until this moment, been completely erased by new-mommy hormones] and steeling herself against it, letting it awaken something deep within her, something more primal — but then the wave crashed and passed. Olive bit her lip sheepishly and moved close to the sandy-hued woman once more.

She looked at her knowingly. “Oh, but are you ready, sister? Before you know it, this too will be you.” When Olive had learned of Seabreeze’s pregnancy, she had been nothing but happy, happy, happy. She had been neglecting her gods, as most fallible mortals did during their times of plenty, but Olive took this as a clear sign of synchronicity; a sign that the druid was doing right by them, and was pursuing her righteous path by bearing their children, and being the willing conduit between the spirit realm and the physical world. Why else would the bestow her with the blessing of not just Seabreeze's babies, but with Liffey's babies as well. Certainly, there would be some marriages that needed arranging, or something.

It was a wonder to be loved by the woman she so adored.  Every second she could bask in Olive's presence she took; eager to learn, and also eager just to be around the druid.  So when the fae began a passion-filled speech the seasprite listened in turn.

"I have met you!"  It brought tears to her eyes though she did well to conceal them under the guise of happiness for the other -- truly, she was!  But her words meant more to Seabreeze than she ever could have truly known.  

Once the contractions began, she began to look for bushels of herbs that Stray totally assumed they would have prepared -- a mouthful of lavendar, lilac, rosebud.  She surrounded the laboring woman as her body became taut, ready.

I am both ready and not ready.  Was anyone -- other than Olive, she presumed -- ever really ready their first time?  I am excited.  But I have never done this before.

getting this show on the road :D

Olive watched the other woman she perused the stores of herbs and petals that most certainly did line the walls of their statuesque shelter. Olive was proud to say that only some of her reaping had to be foraged — most had been grown under thine own watchful, diligent eye. Those crops that needed to grow wild were the ones simply too large to successfully domesticate. Berry bushes, for one, tended to grown taller than she did… but those could be found in abundance in the sunspire’s lower reaches, and she loved them so! So the misted druid foraged anyways, even in the late days of her pregnancy, to indulge in spring’s delight. In fact, a small pile of blueberries sat next to the lavender petals; nothing if not a fragrant snack for later.

The babies within her seemed to like them too, for they danced and kicked the very second the saccharine sweetness graced her tongue. Briefly, the midwife wondered if berries could be used to quicken the womb, or to induce labor — but Olive came to the conclusion that, no, this was a part of the enchanting bond between she and her babies, and she and her babies alone. It was an amazing thing, to be able to make them happy and learn their spirits before they entered physical reality — and how she already doted upon them with songs and sweets and lots and lots of naps, so that her body and health could play host to her little parasites as best it could.

The mother to be only hoped things would remain as pure and whole as they had been those last few, mirthful days.

Olive turned her attention back to Seabreeze as her body fought against the pains, ebbing and flowing quite freely and growing more frequent. It was nice to listen to her comrade speak of her eagerness, for the shakti woman shared such emotions, and it kept the woman’s full attention off labor’s vice grip as it grew tighter across her abdomen. Later she would focus entirely on the task at hand, when her body demanded action and attention, but for now, there was no need to tire herself by struggling against nature’s natural processes when it could proceed just fine on its own. “I am glad you are excited,” chirped the fae, eyeing the gentle swell of Seabreeze’s sides fondly — a litter, with a father.

a complete family.

“You will do so well.” she lauded sincerely, lowering her body to the earth beneath the awning — half in the sun and half out of it, not willing to sacrifice the afternoon’s gentle sun entirely. She laid on her side; it was the only way she could, anymore.

Another contraction struck; but this one was different. The dull pain turned sharp and her body bore down in a way that was immediately familiar. Olive found it hard to speak as her womb churned, hard to breathe, but Olive dug her claws into the earthen, thatched floor and forced herself to inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, turning one of her body’s most autonomic responsibilities into something more effortful. A doleful whine, finespun yet pained, eeked from her maw. When it passed, and Olive regained her senses, she found her sides heaving with the effort. The fae allowed her tongue to loll out the side of her mouth most ungracefully, and trusted that Seabreeze would not think any less of her for breaking composure. ”It is important to breathe…” she stated, although she was not entirely succeeding in this endeavor herself.

“Otherwise, the pain is greater.”

It was knowledge that had first been told to her by her mother, who was very open about these things to both she and her brothers, and confirmed by yours truly through rigorous testing, during the birth of her first litter. Her mother had also been a naturalist and a midwife — and rather quite beautiful. Olive had never truly seen her mother’s skills in action, but her lessons were told through stories and lessons and always seems to apply to regular life as well; always pertaining to whatever particular situation was at hand. Her mother’s wise words rang as true then as ever, to turn inward and to be the passenger of this experience, not the driver, and the druid could hear her gentle voice as clearly as if she was right next to her — or what that Seabreeze? Well, she would never be truly sure, for was Olive focused solely on the moment at hand, paying attention to nothing but the workings of her body, suspended somewhere between heaven and earth.The laboring fae did not move from where she lay, but rested her chin on the ground between her paws and rocked her head methodically, uttering guttural moans and gasping whines as her body bade her. She grit her teeth and leaned into the urge to push —

— and, before she could believe it, there were three little babes suckling at her breast.

Olive peered at her brood, heavy-lidded and somewhat delirious from her undertaking. Yet another easy birth, though not without its torment, with all babies alive and accounted for. The mother literally could not ask for better. Olive lapsed in her words — there was nothing that could appropriately accommodate the emotions she felt at that moment. The babes were even more perfect in their physical forms than they were as spirits growing within her.

The first was a squalling little boy of pale fur and butterscotch highlights. The second, a filly the color of muted ash, and the third, another boy, calico with a perfect smattering of the other two. Two boys and a girl: it seemed a ratio that her body was satisfied with and deigned to gift her with yet again. Olive stared, wide-eyed and awe-struck, much the same way she marveled at the gods and the universe and all creation. For the first time in a long time, Olive looked up at Seabreeze, completely astounded as new-mommy hormones flushed her body and her fragile, newborn babies drank deeply and threw their pinkish limbs about and let out soft baby noises as if simply existing was just too much. Olive looked back down to the nascent trio, then back at Seabreeze, then back at her litter as if to say do you see? do you see?

She wished for the nameless man to meet his children, but she had a vague premonition that would never happen. The stars had hinted at it, almost an entire moon ago, but that reading hadn’t given her pause until that very moment — but then it struck her then, and it struck hard. She wasn’t alone in this, not even close, but no man should be cheated out of fatherhood, she believed — oh, how lovely being that experience truly was!

Consciousness was new to the little girl. Prior to this very moment, existence had been made easy for her — almost everything was taken care of or provided for, from the only source she knew. Mama. She needn’t think about the act of growing her own toes and fur, and she found that she didn’t worry about the various other parts of fetus-hood, from the receiving of nutrients, down to the spastic twitching of her limbs. It all just… happened, and she was powerless to stop it.

Not that she wanted to.

In fact, had Eleuthera known that the world would be so very bright and so very cold, she might have tried a little harder to stay inside. No, instead she had been born, and the foreign act of feeling and perceiving was altogether overwhelming. The girl was even thinking for the first time, though what passed through her brain wasn’t so much thought as it was a simple reaction to stimuli: everything was either a resounding yes, I like this! or a oh no, I definitely do not like that. She found that things she once understood without question, she now questioned very much! Like, who were these others wriggling things, and why did they squirm about so? Why was Mama so big? What was happening? She was hyperaware of the brightness of the world despite her sealed eyes, so she mewled about, utterly blind, and tried to figure out what this feeling in the pit of her stomach might be. Eventually she would come to know it as hunger, but for now, it was only uncomfortable and she couldn’t seem to make it stop.

She cried out from sheer frustration.  

The little philosopher rollicked into life without a worry or a cry. In the womb he’d snatched snippets of both siblings’ palettes rather than wear a pelt uniquely of his own construct — he liked things easy. He’d been content in utero, but he was content here, too; though it wasn’t possible for him to achieve such a feat consciously at this stage, his little mouth was curved in a natural smile. He took his time leaving his previous digs, took his time on the way to the milk bar. One paw reached out, bumping into his squalling sister, and his mouth gaped like a gecko’s, gumming at her hip. Oh, this wasn’t what he wanted. Poking his tongue out, he casually sauntered [read: worm-wiggled] his way to the back of the line and latched on, but not with any real sense of urgency. All things would happen in due time.

Life was good.

much like his brother, seamus was an easy, content child — lucky for mom, this happy-go-lucky attitude would likely carry him through much of his childhood.  being born was interesting but drinking milk was much more so; he latched upon his mother's teat without fuss.

This will be lackluster in comparison and I am so sorry.

Never before had Seabreeze actually gotten to attend a birth, at least in her memory of the Wilds.  There was something special about the bond she shared with Olive, and now that they were experiencing this together, it was somehow.. she didn't know.  It was beautiful.

She stayed close to Olive when the woman called her near and fled from her side when the druid needed space, taking note of her instructions.

And then finally, there were babies.  Seabreeze took to arranging flowers until Olive's gaze met hers, and she tentatively moved forward to sweep a kiss across the whitefae's forehead.  You did so well.

warmth and milk-scent leached from the crack in which her mother had made her den, having the midnight girl pause a moment in her stride. had conditions been optimal, she would have returned with prey in her paw and pride in her step, and yet she had little more to show for her endeavour than the slightest limp and disappointed gaze. 

yet the tiny sounds of new life made the hunt seem suddenly inconsequential, and the star child softened a moment. yet all too soon she was reminded of the last time she had seen new life; the caves, the ravings of a madman, the witch of a mother who seemed to wish only for death. spine prickling, she slunk softly onto her stomach, the shadow becoming a silent sentinel outside the den, green eyes at its entrance but unable to find the will to enter.

it would only seem an intrusion, now, with the twisted memories gnawing at the back of her mind. and so she would wait, hoping that the twisted thoughts would soon dissipate, that their oppressive pressure would simple lighten. 

she was patient.

 Again, the enervated druid leaned into the cosseting of her sister-kin, appreciating her presence during the birth of her children. Olive would certainly be there for the birth of Seabreeze’s own, and hopefully for every litter either of them bore for the rest of time. It was a special bond they shared, tied together on a soul level and an integral part of the most wonderful days of her life.

The babies murmured and followed their instincts towards her breast. If they weren’t feeding they were pushing against one another, or turning away to wriggle around on their small-yet-strong baby limbs. The mother helped to nudge them back towards the warmth of her being; there was nothing to explore now that could not be explore later, when they were not mere minutes old. Olive could not helped but be amused by their ambition, though.

Soon, the family was not alone and the new mother felt her stomach clutch and tighten at the thought of Rannoch or the more prickly of Sunspire’s member had come to see what all the ruckus was about — but it was none other than Cassiopeia, and no one was more welcome than she. Though Olive could not gain a clear view of her [now] eldest daughter, her onyx-hued kin could not conceal herself against the light of day as she might had done in the dead of night. There was an energetic pull, one that was clearly mirrored in her adoration for her newest litter, that Olive immediately recognized whenever Cassiopeia was near.

Briefly turning from her fellow midwife, Olive called out in a feeble, yet entirely satisfied, tone.“Cass,” she invited, “come meet your new siblings, Séamus, Eleuthera and Oaxaca.” She wasn’t sure how the girl felt about being an older sister — or about her mother, the only kin who hadn’t forsaken her, bore new progenies — so Olive offered a little guidance. “We have been so blessed!” she stated with utter confidence, looked at both of them with drunken eyes and nodding distinctly. Yes, they were.