Olive still reeled from the happening.
If the wastrel had thought she’d known pain, she had been sorely mistaken. Nearly ever night found her in tears, weeping delicately [yet with force!] as she lamented the losing of her kindred spirit. Olive cried openly in from of her children, holding them tight in their last days of nursing — they knew something had happened, knew it from the squall of energies she brought into their den, but would not remember. It was one of the only solaces that Olive could find those days: that her children would grow to never know the poignancy of their babyhood.
It was a situations she quite never had imagined herself to be in. She had been reborn when her and Dakarai’s souls collided, and for so long she imagined he would be her death, too. No matter the pain she felt inside, it was word from the gods and it must be obeyed; lest the star-crossed lovers bring more sadness upon each other, Aries, Cassiopeia and the wolves of Moonspear. The gods were not interested in pandering loyalties, only wholehearted enlightenment and demanded her compliance — her torment was a clear sign of her dedication.
Surely, they would be pleased with her now.
The worst was how her mind called out for him. At every moment she wondered what he was doing, knowing full and well the knight was upon the mountain… somewhere, doing something, Did his soul bleed for her, as hers did for he — or did he simmer in his anger and let his darkness take over? Oh, how she wished she could go to him, embrace the brooding rogue, kiss away the sadness and tell him it would all be okay?
In her mind, she had imagined she and Dakarai could coexist, still very much in love and delighting in every part of it, but distant enough to not incur the wrath of the gods. Admiration without the dedication; it would have been a thing of beauty, but the time for such things had passed. Her love for Dakarai was not something that could be broken up and made piecemeal — it was an all or nothing sort of deal. Where there once was all there now was nothing and, like an addict, she needed to purge Dakarai from her system.
Only when she realized there was life beyond him, would she be able to move on.
Dakarai had taken the children, though the mother worried about leaving the month-old pups with a man in such a state. Where Olive was diaphanous, Dakarai was a conflagration — but she knew his love for his children would never be touched by his resentment of her. But still, seeing her king for even a moment had shaken her so the druid took a silent tour of the mountainside and eventually ran into the girl Hydra.
“Hydra,” she hymed softly, coming up behind the inky shewolf and not realizing her mistake. “Hello.”
If the wastrel had thought she’d known pain, she had been sorely mistaken. Nearly ever night found her in tears, weeping delicately [yet with force!] as she lamented the losing of her kindred spirit. Olive cried openly in from of her children, holding them tight in their last days of nursing — they knew something had happened, knew it from the squall of energies she brought into their den, but would not remember. It was one of the only solaces that Olive could find those days: that her children would grow to never know the poignancy of their babyhood.
It was a situations she quite never had imagined herself to be in. She had been reborn when her and Dakarai’s souls collided, and for so long she imagined he would be her death, too. No matter the pain she felt inside, it was word from the gods and it must be obeyed; lest the star-crossed lovers bring more sadness upon each other, Aries, Cassiopeia and the wolves of Moonspear. The gods were not interested in pandering loyalties, only wholehearted enlightenment and demanded her compliance — her torment was a clear sign of her dedication.
Surely, they would be pleased with her now.
The worst was how her mind called out for him. At every moment she wondered what he was doing, knowing full and well the knight was upon the mountain… somewhere, doing something, Did his soul bleed for her, as hers did for he — or did he simmer in his anger and let his darkness take over? Oh, how she wished she could go to him, embrace the brooding rogue, kiss away the sadness and tell him it would all be okay?
In her mind, she had imagined she and Dakarai could coexist, still very much in love and delighting in every part of it, but distant enough to not incur the wrath of the gods. Admiration without the dedication; it would have been a thing of beauty, but the time for such things had passed. Her love for Dakarai was not something that could be broken up and made piecemeal — it was an all or nothing sort of deal. Where there once was all there now was nothing and, like an addict, she needed to purge Dakarai from her system.
Only when she realized there was life beyond him, would she be able to move on.
Dakarai had taken the children, though the mother worried about leaving the month-old pups with a man in such a state. Where Olive was diaphanous, Dakarai was a conflagration — but she knew his love for his children would never be touched by his resentment of her. But still, seeing her king for even a moment had shaken her so the druid took a silent tour of the mountainside and eventually ran into the girl Hydra.
“Hydra,” she hymed softly, coming up behind the inky shewolf and not realizing her mistake. “Hello.”
and all my days are trances, and all my nightly dreams
are where thy grey eye glances, and where thy footstep gleams
in what ethereal dances, by what eternal streams
are where thy grey eye glances, and where thy footstep gleams
in what ethereal dances, by what eternal streams
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Messages In This Thread
procedures - by Alya - April 25, 2017, 02:14 PM
RE: procedures - by Olive - April 26, 2017, 08:15 AM
RE: procedures - by Alya - May 01, 2017, 09:50 PM
RE: procedures - by Olive - May 04, 2017, 11:00 PM
RE: procedures - by Alya - May 07, 2017, 03:37 PM
RE: procedures - by Olive - May 13, 2017, 09:25 PM