leaving traces of us down the boulevard

*Olive* · (This post was last modified: August 22, 2018, 01:05 PM by Olive.)

Perhaps — just perhaps — the sylph’s days of vagrancy were behind her.

Like the seasons of the earth, or the changes in the tides, or the rise and fall of the sun in the sky, Olive was a woman always changing. How could she ever think she would not? Had her ego grown so much that she thought herself separate from the ground upon which she stood, or the stars above her head; that they might alter and change consistently, while she remained ever the same? It was simply not so.

Where she once traveled upon her own volition, scouting lands far and wide and meeting wolves of all shapes and sizes, she now traveled only out of necessity. She had been a scout, once upon a time! Since then she had shed such a skin and adopted the guise of astronomer and botonist, which we far better fitting titles, especially nowadays. Before, she had been free and unfettered! Though she had not noticed the change, she did come to see that, if she left for any extent of time, someone was negatively affected: her love, their babies, or their group as a whole. Moving with pups was a burden, and not something she preferred to do unless absolutely necessary. As her obligations began to change, so did her life evolve to reflect it.

The one thing that did not change, was Seabreeze.

With her nose to the ground, she sought out her soulsister. It was never a difficult thing to find her, for there was a very subtle pull of her heart towards where ever the sea sprite was at that moment — and, very rarely, was that ever not at her side. The woman was comfortable, so comfortable! and in a way that excited the Shakti woman and held her close. The sense of safety, support and sisterhood; it was so real when it came to the pale woman, who’s exterior paired well with Olive’s almost as much as her interior did. So deep was this trust, that Olive ever dared to uproot her entire existence with this woman and rebuild a life which so depended upon hers. It was love, a real love, and Olive’s subconscious greatly loved to toe that fine line between familial and romantic.