Sea Lion Shores 1957

this thread is muy caliente!

Olive loped behind the shewolf, feeling culpable for this drastic turn and fettered to her ultimate wellbeing. Hot obligation laced her pursuit and the sylph lightly dashed across the frozen landscape much in the manner of Doe’s namesake; paws barely brushing the ground before they were thrust out in front of her again. In that instant Olive had convinced herself that Doe’s volatility had been a result of one of her own actions. She gritted her teeth as her mind landed on the incendiary comment she had made mere minutes prior: you ought to be congratulated for reaching so high. Yet again the infinite universe revealed its hand to Olive, lighting her way through the karmic laws. Olive had put anger into the world and shared it amongst others — and what did she receive in return but spite and the ruinment of a perfectly fine woman? Do unto others became her mantra, swaying alongside the sounds of herself whipping through the timbers, placing words upon the undulating staff of nature’s instruments. 

Do unto others, do unto others, do unto others

The scene that she arrived upon was sudden and not expected. Olive had trailed behind the skittering woman, keeping her form always in view but never close enough to cause further anxiety — it was not Olive’s goal to bombard the suffering thing with unwanted attention, but to simply ensure her safety and wellbeing. This woman was the leader of their allies for god’s sake and Olive would protect her in the best [the only] way she could. But Olive came upon the crumpled heap that was Doe quite suddenly and Olive nearly lost her balance skittering to a halt. The woman writhed upon the ground in a manner most grotesque and anxiety overcame the ashen bystander. Her ears cut against her skull in prominent concern and displeasure, a loud whine leaking from her parted lips. She was quite unsure what to do to and the displeasure evinced itself in her sharp pacing, back and forth, for an unseemingly long amount of time. The seconds ticked by slowly, timed by the booming lub dub of her pulse in her ears. 

Her pacing was interrupted by a flurry of fury and fangs, which was quite hard to process. There was a strange, enraged salt-encrusted brute and a just-as-foreign inky woman, one of which had been on the receiving end of the other’s jaws — who hurt who, Olive couldn’t perceive. As quick as she came the sheepdog was off, seeking food from the caches at the behest of Doe’s sentinel. This must be her mate, her partner, the new alpha of Blackrock Depths: and he was demanding an explanation. Olive’s surrendered her usual eloquence in favor of brevity and explicit honesty. “She’s upset”  Ugh, Olive, do better! “She’s in pain and fled our meeting. She kept saying that she didn’t have a choice. No choice…. No choice.” Olive offered softly, as if Syzmon would have a difficult time picturing the scene for himself. “I just found her, here.” Seeking and holding the man’s golden gaze, Olive concluded in the utmost seriousness. “What’s going on?”

She meant this question about Doe, about the late Palisander, about murdered Furiosa, about forlorn Isley and the perished, peaceful Donnelaith tribe. In that one utterance, she questioned everything.