Moonspear you wouldn’t leave 'til we loved in the morning

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and that was it.

there was nothing else to be said.

The thing she had never expected to come to pass had come to pass, and Olive was left breathless of the realness of it. Yes, her love for him would persist through time and space and no, neither of them were leaving — but the prophet could no longer perform the self-sacrificial duties assigned to a wife; could no longer fight for their matehood above all else. She could not be tied to him, through thick and thing, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health — for the universe sought to test such a bond and only sadness was the result. One day, in another time and another space, their souls would meet again and be able to bond properly.

but until that day happened, their endless love story would continue to be punctuated by a disjointed faultlessness that only Olive and Dakarai could achieve. 

”One time, someone told me something.” Olive stood wilted, but her verdant gaze lifted to meet Dakarai’s own. It had been a women she met shortly after leaving her mother and her father, striking out on her own. ”I’ll never forget it.” Though the druid was prone to reciting platitudes shibboleths, she felt this bore repeating. ”She said,” and then Olive paused for a moment to ensure her memory served her correctly, but then continued in a whispered aria.

“If you love a flower, don’t pick it up.
Because if you pick it up it dies and it ceases to be what you love.
So if you love a flower, let it be.
Love is not about possession.
Love is about appreciation.”

Dakarai liked words and she liked words, but words were just words and the quote suddenly seemed to blissfully innocent and unaware. Their love was hungry and consuming — but wasn’t all true love? No, Olive quickly reminded herself. Her and Dakarai's love was different. After all, why did the gods seek to strike them down and not Arturo and Lotte? Her own mother and father? Any other of the multitudes of couples in the world?

The dark knight was hurting, she could see it plainly in his eyes, though he worked hard to hide it. She was hurting too. To hurt together, anymore than they already had, would surely result in some emotion-fueled outburst. Whether that outburst be born of anger or of the thick sexual tension had yet to be seen, she didn’t want to find out. ”I— I must go… the children… i’m sure they’re hungry.” Olive grimaced, unsure how to say goodbye to the man who was no longer her husband. 

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