Ocean's Breath Plateau the lemonade springs where the bluebird sings

[table width=85%][tr][td]

The pale wolfess looked up when the dark knight sunk directly in her line of sight, beseeching his wife to explain her troubles. Olive lifted her tongue from the feathered form of her son [sitting so nicely between her forearms] gave Dakarai one longing look, blinked once and then cast her gaze off to the side. She couldn’t look at him, to see the disappointment that was so clearly writ cross his features. I did not take a keen eye to see that Olive was in the throes of some otherworldly type of pain, but Dakarai had special insight into Olive’s mind and all the words he spoke were true; but it stung to have it [seemingly] thrown back in her face. Dakarai meant well, for her, for him, for their children and the family as a whole — he always would. 

Then why couldn’t he see that he was better off without her? 

As true as they were, Olive reeled against his claims that she was hurting their children with her apathy. Did he think she hadn’t tried to stop it? Here she was, cleaning milk from the face of their son — and tender act, but after the initial surge of motherly euphoria she was immediately struck with a feeling of emptiness. unworthiness. desolation. She went through the motions [albeit despondently, as these motions were more than enough for all other mothers] and never kept their babies far from her hearth and home — and though it pained the mother to continually face her failures [seemingly without end], she would always do so. Her babies would know the warmth of her mother’s body, if not the warmth of her personality. 

Olive’s eyes shifted back to Dakarai and then [as if her glance was a mistake] quickly flicked back to at the emptiness that occupied the space above his right shoulder. He implored her to speak but she could not [would not]. Words failed to soothe and had always only made their matters worse.  Whenever she opened her mouth to speak, sadness followed — so she wouldn't speak…. she could do her family that favor. So Olive grit her molars together in contention but still plucked up her child with deft jaws and carried him to an area several feet away from her beloved inquisitor. Olive flattered the soft, amber reeds with several twisting circles and then bedded down in them to resume Sirius’s bath, away from the only wolf whose pain she simply could not face.

[/td][/tr][/table]