The Sunspire please twirl me one more time and don’t stop spinning me
775 Posts
Ooc — Rosie
Astronomer
Master Ecologist
Master Midwife
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#10
 
I’m so lame, but is it okay if we close up with your post? I’m really thankful that Wraen and Olive got to know each other! ❤


“Yes,”  the mother responded, her smile bright and proud as she entertained the possibility of talking about her children. She was so absolutely enamored with them in every single way that it was hard to not let her love for them consume her every thought and every action. Still, she was teetering quite upon that particular edge of utter and total devotion — the kind where you’d die for them, the kind she had never truly experienced before. Everything up until now, Olive realized, had been in self-defense; sdefense against her own ego and karma, but also acting from a place of real fear and unsettled-ness. Now, she felt truly free.

The misted femme leant her head down to plant a kiss upon the skullcap of her smallest son, her chillin’-est son, her calico-eat son.
“This is Oaxaca,”  she introduce as he bobbed along to a song that she could almost hear — perhaps if she hadn’t been in the presence of an acquaintance, Olive might have been able to perceive her son’s son more easily. They were a musical family, surprisingly. Olive loved to sing and dance with Seabreeze (though neither of the matron-midwives were that active anymore and warble alongside her little babies, singing their songs that were part nonsense, part genius.  Olive then pointed down her muzzle to the two cubs nursing at her belly. The woman usually felt vulnerable with this act, and did not choose to feed her cubs with anyone but her soulsister present, but here she felt quite at ease. “Séamus and Eleuthera. Two boys, one girl… The same ratio as my first litter.”  

Then, without much warning, Eleuthera flailed one arm forward and caught her brother Séamus right on the nose. He squalled, then she squalled — as the two were wont to do — and though their mother leant her head down to cajole and pacify them with kisses and a deep, empathetic understanding of their frustration, neither’s sobs could be quelled. Olive cut a guilty what’re yah gonna do? grimace at Wraen and return to trying to soothe her two crying babies, while hoping that her youngest son would remain placid. She trusted that he would.      
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