Moonspear you can only remember what you want to forget
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Ooc — Rosie
Astronomer
Master Ecologist
Master Midwife
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#3
For a moment Olive gave pause and mused about bringing the small batch of flowers to scent the queen’s chamber, as it was surely inundated with many different bodies, both old and new; but rather quickly, the waif dismissed the idea. When it came to the Ostrega family, Olive very easily found herself in an shroud of unknowingness; she was constantly being surprised by their demeanors, both cordial and severe. Olive doubted the gesture would be appreciated to its fullest extent and doubted even more that a gentle lamb, such as she, would be allowed near the newborn whelps. So the mother easily fell back to the original plan of bringing the bouquet home, to that den upon the mountainside that housed her babes; the warmth and happiness of which was so tightly wound around her own; and the mother would let them carouse and explore. Idealistically, the druid wished to nurture within them a love of nature and appreciation for the divinity of it —  and at this point in their development, they were captivated by things of vivid colors, that tickled their noses and delighted their other faculties. Wildflowers easily fit the bill and served as a means to introducing the ash and ebon babes to their higher purpose.

Just them, something — a whisper on the wind — spoke to her. You are not alone.

Turn around.

So turn around she did, wheeling about on four pointed, slender limbs. Sidereal gaze landed up the form of a man, silhouetted and backlit by the fading sun. Olive stumbled forward a step or two, eyes squinting against the sunbeams, trying to figure out the figure before her. His scent was new to the mountainside, as hers surely was all those months ago; and she could scry nothing from it! Intrigued by this unknown, silent presence, the woman took a slow, drawn step forward — lips still tied tightly around the stems of the crimson flowerets — and an inquisitive lilt of her head gave away her curiosities. The druid wondered who he was, wished to know how his story went; it was a request she made of most of the souls she encountered, and this man was no different. Despite this, the lamb was still conflicted; she had far too many kerfuffles with the mountain wolves to approach him fully and speak first. If they were to make acquaintance, it would be on his terms.
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

Messages In This Thread
RE: you can only remember what you want to forget - by Olive - May 30, 2017, 09:22 PM