Hushed Willows dripping in gold

@Sontés, and to make things interesting: let's go with one of our february themes

It was truly a frigid, cold day. Only when Olive had thought winter to be over, did it come back with a certain force and ferocity that the druid had come to loathe. She was a little taken aback at how the earth could do her so dirty — Olive was ready for the springtime and the many wonders that came with it. This, of all things, is what she was dealt?

The strong winds and severely plummeting temperatures managed to penetrate even the densest of the willowed grove and deadened everything; sight, sound, taste, touch. Almost anything that existed was covered in a sheer sheet of frost, which softened and diffused the weak winter daylight into something that could be mistaken for beautiful. Perhaps it was beautiful, and it would never last [all things eventually ended, of course], so Olive struggled between appreciating it for what it was and worrying for Séamus and Eleuthera, out there and alone in the cold.

However, if everything in the world was cold but one thing, that one thing was Olive. The white spirit’s body temperature began to rise, at an almost imperceptible level; she seemed produced her own heat from deep within and found that she was never cold, though this was a phenomenon noticed by only she. Olive, the midwife that she was, knew herself to be entering a phase of proestrus and silently celebrated with joy — soon she would bear Seabreeze a family, and they would be complete.

For now, though, this was her little secret which she allowed to manifest as a spring in her step and twinkle in her eye; perhaps a note more vivacious that her usual self. It was fun, and there were so few things that Olive ever got excited for nowadays, so she relished it. At the time, the frosted willow’s branches seemed to stifle her so she forsook them and escaped to glimpse her favorite falling waters, feeling the frenetic energy of the cascade resonate deep within her being.

sorry this took so damn long & is so damn short / bland  ;a;

Sᴏɴᴛ ᴡᴀs ғᴀᴍɪʟɪᴀʀ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ғʀᴏsᴛғᴜʟ sᴇᴀsᴏɴs,  just the same as all who lived. And, yet, put alongside the Rhaesiuan winters, those of Teekon were mild to the minister at best. It had taken the northerner quite a while to settle into Elysium, but it was all the more for hestiancy than anything else. He had not yet found a resting place of his own, and though he'd been taken on frequent tourings of the territory, the information seemed to slip to and from his memory without wont for remembering. He knew that he'd learn, in time; learning was what he favored, but at the present, it wasn't something so pressured upon his mind.

All the same, would these snows never secede?

Sont had forgotten, too, that rivers still ran in winter; so when he heard the frozen thrum of the falls that he'd never decided to notice til now the Guest, piqued, made his way to them through snowdrift and muted sunlight. If it hadn't been for the flicker of a shadow, he would've missed the lingering she-wolf entirely; and if his assumptions were correction, she was... Olive? "Good day," he lent, and yet his tone betrayed anything that ever had the chance of being 'good' at this particular hour.

Olive dipped her toes into the water and lingered in the shiver than rippled from her toe tip, up her foreleg, down her spine and to the tip of her tail. She remembered, briefly, the days that she spent swimming amongst these water — they numbered many, and even occurred closer to winter than many might had found comfortable. But now the water was simply unlivable, and at these temperatures, to fall in might spell an earth death to those who were ill, young or elderly. Olive was none of these things, but still, she shied away from the water’s edge. 

So, the shakti woman was surprised when she heard a voice greet her. Who was here? Whoever they were, they should be far away, tucked in the warmth of their den with the one they loved — 

But Olive immediately recognized Elysium’s newest addition, Sontés, and was glad he wasn’t towed away some place warm. He had intrigued her since they day they met at the border, with his pedantic manner and his well-meaning, holier-than-though attitude. Whereas some might have been annoyed, Olive was thrilled — so often she was the most didactic one in the room, and in this, she did not mind being outdone. It was nice being amongst those who were similarly-minded, and Olive took this as further confirmation that her intentions for Elysium had been heard by the gods, and were being fulfilled for her. The druid thanked her gods, then turned away from the churning waters to receive him properly.

She dipped her nose in a sort of semi-bow, showing him respect. It did not matter that she was on the council and he, simply a guest — they were equals upon these holy lands, and in the sight of the gods. “Indeed, it is a good day,”  she greeted, hoping to show that there were still a great many things to be thankful for despite winter’s hardened grip. “How are you liking it here?”  she inquired, suspecting the answer to be positive not because Elysium was that great, but because any place other than these willows might as well be a blast freezer.

“— oh, and please and be honest. We don’t much like those who fib, especially when it’s for my own comfort.”  She gave him a knowing grin, figuring it would help no one if he only shared comforting superficialities.