Totoka River compose a poem, an honest verse of longing

The gentle mother-to-be turned from the stars, but their light lingered in her forest hollow eyes, and Coelacanth buckled at last beneath the weight of her unspent words and overwhelming solitude. She moved as close to Olive as she could without leaving the healing touch of her river, and her Neptune eyes shimmered as though lit from within by the bioluminescent blue that illuminated the ocean by night.

“I never learned your name,” bespoke the eburnean woman, and a shy smile played about the corners of Seelie’s sensitive mouth as she helplessly shook her delicate head, tipping it back to demonstrate her impediment with an airy “howl” — more sigh than sound, it winged from her lips in a smoky plume that carried no discernible melody. Her finely tapered muzzle dipped in an apologetic cant once she’d finished, and her tall, sharp ears folded just long enough for their tufted tips to dip below surface before they fanned forward with a flicker of crystalline droplets. She emerged from the water and distanced herself as she gave her tiny body a hearty shake, returning to Olive with a sigh of quiet contentment. Breaching the barrier of touch, Coelacanth sought to brush the bridge of her muzzle against one ivory-and-argent shoulder.

“It is for you to choose,” she thought, looking with a mixture of longing and hope at the celestial female.