Sea Lion Shores 1957

Wrap up and archive with your next post? :)

The silent woman was hurt, Olive could see that — but the curved form of the sheepdog displayed no outward sign of harm. It had always amazed Olive how some being could swallow their own pain, shield themselves from the eyes of others in the way of this silent woman. Olive could never, would never, be able to hide her pain or her joys. However, the more Olive watched the gamine frolic and fall about, gathering herself and whipping her angular features closer and closer, the more she wondered why she did not speak. Her actions were loud, but he voice silent — and Olive had not the mental nor emotional capacity to figure it all out. Her afternoon had been quite derailed by the woman Doe and she could scarcely find want in herself to visit the charcoal remains of the great Sentinel forest, nonetheless work hard to chip away at a one-sided conversation. The exhausted fae simply wanted to go home. 

The woman clearly wanted Olive to indulge in the berry, and for that the solemn druid was thankful. She pulled the berry between her pale lips with a quick twist of the tongue and savored the cool crunch of the berry. It was a moment of respite — which she quickly interrupted with the announcement of her departure. “I- I have to go. You must understand,” Olive pleaded, hoping dearly that the shadowed woman would let her retire unobstructed.  She pulled her waif-like figure from her haunches and positioned herself back towards Ravensblood Forest, back towards the way she had come, but awaiting the stranger's acknowledgement.