Hushed Willows dripping in gold
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Ooc — Rosie
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Master Ecologist
Master Midwife
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#3
Olive dipped her toes into the water and lingered in the shiver than rippled from her toe tip, up her foreleg, down her spine and to the tip of her tail. She remembered, briefly, the days that she spent swimming amongst these water — they numbered many, and even occurred closer to winter than many might had found comfortable. But now the water was simply unlivable, and at these temperatures, to fall in might spell an earth death to those who were ill, young or elderly. Olive was none of these things, but still, she shied away from the water’s edge. 

So, the shakti woman was surprised when she heard a voice greet her. Who was here? Whoever they were, they should be far away, tucked in the warmth of their den with the one they loved — 

But Olive immediately recognized Elysium’s newest addition, Sontés, and was glad he wasn’t towed away some place warm. He had intrigued her since they day they met at the border, with his pedantic manner and his well-meaning, holier-than-though attitude. Whereas some might have been annoyed, Olive was thrilled — so often she was the most didactic one in the room, and in this, she did not mind being outdone. It was nice being amongst those who were similarly-minded, and Olive took this as further confirmation that her intentions for Elysium had been heard by the gods, and were being fulfilled for her. The druid thanked her gods, then turned away from the churning waters to receive him properly.

She dipped her nose in a sort of semi-bow, showing him respect. It did not matter that she was on the council and he, simply a guest — they were equals upon these holy lands, and in the sight of the gods.
“Indeed, it is a good day,”  she greeted, hoping to show that there were still a great many things to be thankful for despite winter’s hardened grip. “How are you liking it here?”  she inquired, suspecting the answer to be positive not because Elysium was that great, but because any place other than these willows might as well be a blast freezer.

“— oh, and please and be honest. We don’t much like those who fib, especially when it’s for my own comfort.”  She gave him a knowing grin, figuring it would help no one if he only shared comforting superficialities.
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

Messages In This Thread
dripping in gold - by Olive - February 09, 2019, 06:47 PM
RE: dripping in gold - by Sontés - February 12, 2019, 10:38 PM
RE: dripping in gold - by Olive - February 13, 2019, 09:33 PM