Whitefish River some sad singers, they just play tragic

It was then that the roles reversed, and Olive was the one left waiting for the inkblot’s reaction, grasping after the forgiveness that she so dearly sought. Though the shuddering of her breath subsided, tears still wet her velveteen cheeks as the sadness of reality set it. Had her actions affected so many, so negatively? How could it have truly been the gods’ divine will, if that was so?

She held her breath as Carina approached her, and subsequently released it when the girl did nothing more than brush her lips and cheek with her own; it was a piece of the tenderness that she had come to love about her relationship with the silent one, and Olive was left astounded at how an act so small, could represent so very much. Olive leant her head lightly against that of the sheepdog, and smiled earnestly. With this communion, perhaps this one aspect of her storied past would finally be called to a close. 

The coconut, which had been so unceremoniously abandoned, was picked back up and held betwixt the girl’s jaws. Olive’s grin widened and her tail began to make wide sweeps behind her, thrilled with the girl’s attempt to make-nice. Whatever Carina wanted to do, Olive would do too — and if there was stewed pumpkin to whet her appetite, well, that was all the better. Making to follow the dark one as she approached the river. Drifting alongside the strange man, the large man, Olive glanced up and questioned “Seelie?”, harkening back to the word he had spoken when he first arrived on the scene.

Though they didn’t know each other’s name, Olive was certain that they were already past introductions.