Hushed Willows it hurts until it doesn't

For a moment, the druid simply hung back and let Delight and Seabreeze luxuriate in each other’s company; she watched their kisses and their affection for one another, and Olive herself steeped in a sense of rightness that she hadn’t felt since that very first time meeting Dakarai. One of those moments when one couldn’t imagine how life could possibly become better, or what one did to deserve such a fortune. She found that she had so many more questions about the world, as well, for she now was able to look at the facets from a different point of view — one of whom was assured of the universe’s ability to make things right in the end.

When Seabreeze suggested that the trio abscond back towards whence they came — the rose garden where they spent many nap times — Olive quivered and knew she wanted to go. There was no rush, no hurry, but there was every possibility to make this a perfect and enlightening experience for each of them. Delight and Olive followed Seabreeze as if they were doves on the wind, but ones who hungrily prowled behind her as if Seabreeze herself was the source of all heat-scent and all creation; but it was Olive who alone held that power, and when they arrived at the dell full of ever-blooming scarlet, she became aware of it more than ever.

The seraph brushed her lips against the velvet of a rose and inhaled the scent, voluptuously innocent, then turned to brazenly brush herself against the length of Delight’s slight form, then Seabreeze’s, a tangle of willowy limbs and thin, silken fur. When her mouth alighted with Delight’s ear, she prompted in a voice that was husky with intention — but she did not want to force things.  “If you want…” Perhaps it might be empowering for her new wife, to make that final decision for the rest of them.  “You could…” Olive stood there, alluring and ready to fulfill her role as Shakti, as midwife and as lover of the two kindest souls she had ever known.