Sea Lion Shores 1957

Olive was not alone for along and a woman ambled along, neither enthusiastic nor begrudging. She asked if Olive was unwell and she drew herself up into a composed posture. “I - I am fine. Just tired. Thank you.” The foe stated with gratitude, knowing quite well that was a lie. Her weakness was something of a psychosomatic issue — so connected were her mind, soul and body that mental distress took a keen toll on her physicality. Her light dimmed a little under the weight of the cosmos [which were all so, so, so angry] but it was nothing ever too severe. The best medicine for moments like these [when life seemed so muted] was companionship. Olive consistently fluctuated between the needs for solitude and friendship, as each filled such a different need. Now, looking at Doe, it was clear what she really wanted.  With a final, deep huff, Olive’s gaze fell softly upon the other and she offered a small, ironic smile before spilling her truths.  

“I was not aware that the universe could be so cruel…” 

It was then that Olive noticed the woman’s scent. “Blackrock Depths?” she questioned in a peculiar intonation, surprised that she could even recognize the tawny woman’s perfume. Olive had not met a single Blackrock Depth, but somehow her scent felt curiously familiar as it danced in her nares. Stranger or not, the fact that she was in the presence of a living coastal ally was incredibly comforting.