The Sunspire my dove, my lamb

set for 4/20 blaze it 
pping sb with permission

The cramping that plagued the druid the entire day prior did not abate — and the very second she recognized the oh-so-familiar familiar ebb and flow, the midwife knew what was up. 

Birth was an experience that had nearly petrified the fragile woman in the past [she keenly remembered clinging to Dakarai and expressing such fears unto him] but Olive took to this as she took to pregnancy, motherhood and all other things: with high expectations and a refined sense of grace. So when Olive came to her ultimate understanding she was, not surprisingly, reclining in a sun-dappled dell just a moment’s jaunt from her whelping den. Safe within the confines of Sunspire, she felt no need seek her subterranean sanctuary; the gentle, springtide weather had always nurtured her more than dirt and rocks every could.

With the copious amount of free time that she was blessed with the past nine weeks, the mother-to-be was able to monitor her pregnancy closely and had become quite familiar with the small beings that grew within her. She knew the foods they loved and their favorite hours of the day, for they quickened in the early morning and then again late at night. The mother sung to her belly constantly and knew that their favorite sounds were low and lilting. She knew how they felt when they rolled about within her womb, already exhibiting such character for spirits not yet born. They were passionate and wise and certainly lovely, for they were souls even older than she — and she was simply the conduit the gods saw fit to bring them to life.  How blessed was she!

Above all, the shakti woman knew that they already loved each other and knew that, despite their lack of a father, her family would be faultless and whole — and, dare I say it, immaculate? 

Needless to say, Olive had been eagerly preparing for and awaiting this moment for some time now and was thrilled to see this process through. She sauntered over to her garden, stepping gingerly and pacing herself through the throes of pre-labor pains. Here she had cultivated a crop chamomile, lavender and raspberry for this very purpose — and for Seabreeze’s purpose, and Liffey’s purpose — but the shoots were much too new and fine and did not yet grow in a summer-like overabundance. Careful not to strip the garden fully, Olive set about delicately snipping conscripted shoots and leaves to carry back with her for later.

She wished to let @Forrest and @Seabreeze and @Cassiopeia know, but Olive would rather endure the entirety of her labor and delivery alone than loose a howl and alert their thriving pack of her delicate state. Oh no, her fine sense of modesty would not allow for that, so Olive cursed the fact that she did not have some sort of ingenious pocket computer with which she could text her friends with and tell them to come over. Instead, all she could do was wait in a crampy, eager silence and pluck away at her many herbs.

When the task was complete and the tender little buds of chamomile were piled in a small bouquet, she picked then up gingerly in her mouth and carried them back to her dwelling; it was more a crack in the mountainside than it was a proper den, but she loved it and loved how she felt entirely safe being above ground in her newfound, thriving, well-defended parkland. Olive had never liked being underground, anyways, so this was quite the luxury! Furthermore, she wanted her babies to grow up experiencing the beauty of nature, even when they were nothing more than newborn milk-sodden babes — to learn to feel the godliness of the earth well before they opened their eyes. To know the gods before they let their faith be dictated by their sense of sight alone. Olive placed the bundle of yellow and white buds in the sun to dry.

It wasn’t long before her friend Seabreeze came for a visit. How happy Olive was! The two women embraced and while they were close, the laboring fae brought the other up to speed. “My time draws nearer.” she whispered eagerly into her friend’s ear, as she felt her stomach roll and womb quicken. She pressed her side to Seabreeze’s own, so that she could feel it, too. “You will stay, yes? They had agreed on it before, and there was no real reason for the other midwife might duck out now, but still she inquired. Olive would feel silly not to share this experience with another and hoard all the loveliness for herself. Plus, support of a fellow midwife could never be over-appreciated. Olive had already been blessed with one easy birth — would she really be blessed with two?