Hoshor Plains the roots beneath my shaded tree / the moon dancing across my sky

The boy did not repel her advances, though she thought he might. Instead, her son let her stay there, cradled into his collar bone. It was almost if the roles had been reversed, and she was young and needing of comfort — and he was a man, having seen too much in his lifetime. This dynamic was new, but her children were grown and now she was not mama, some unerring angel who provided a boundless hearth and home, but a fallible woman who fell prey to her own shortcomings just as much as they did. It was new, but it was so real and in that moment there was nothing more beautiful than this mother and son who had parted ways to pursue their own passions — hers being pious devotion, and his being… whatever he was interested in, now — and could respect each other for it, without conditions, without rules. Just a deep, familial bond.  

Every creature deserved the right to a happy life, even if that happiness lay in places where she wasn’t. Olive understood that, now. 

Aries spoke in short sentences, without much pomp or explanation. He had grown into a terse, serious man; so unlike his verbose, lovely father. The druid hauled in Aries’s scent and waited a moment, lingering in his closeness, before responding to him. Perhaps words were not the only communication at play, here. 

Olive exhaled, pulled her face from the crook of his neck and looked up at Aries. Her eau-de-nile gaze swam with accord. “None of us did,” she spoke in a hushed manner, not wanting to offend the gods who had offered them shelter upon Charon and Amekaze’s mountain so readily. Without that sheer good fortune, it was likely that her remaining babes would have perished. Was she unendingly grateful for the assistance of Moonspear, and for the act of raising her children [especially when she had been to distracted to do it herself]? Of course. But Olive did not belong in Moonspear no more than Aries did. She belonged in Teaghlaigh, declaring war upon all the world’s evil from behind Dakarai and Arturo’s aegis. Ravensblood Forest was her home — and Moonspear had always been her auspicious second option. She could not fault him for this, just Olive knew his unceremonious departure, with no word, would always sting.

Olive wheeled back a step of two, not entirely sure if Aries was as needing of touch as she was. “Where do you belong, now?” the sylph queried, now quite eager to learn more about the man who stood in front of her… now that she could believe he was really, truly, actually here! He was! He was!