Ocean's Breath Plateau the lemonade springs where the bluebird sings

All welcome!

NOTE: Each of the traveling threads is a day apart. ♥ This is day five, March 25, 2017.

The steady heat of the afternoon sun might have proved oppressive were it not for the cool, crisp breezes that scampered ashore to weave through the tall, soft grasses that blanketed the plateau. It was a pleasant place to stop and allow Olive to nurse her children, and Lotte found quickly that the rhythmic shushing of the feathery blades against her fur acted as a soporific. Tucking herself into an appropriately sized dint in the earth, she curled into a ball and pillowed her nose on her hind paws, her throat and cheek flush against the curve of her abdomen. Now and again, the fluttering kicks of her children forced her to alter her position, but for the most part she was content to sleep off the toil of travel until the pack was ready to move again.

During Teaghlaigh’s trip to their new territory, Olive will be experiencing the 7 stages of grief — grief over the pain of Dakarai losing (and regaining) his memory, being brutalized, BFW finding them, being demoted and abandoning Ravensblood Forest… and a little bit of postpartum depression. Each thread will represent a different stage of grief, dated in order (albeit, a little expedited). This thread represents stage four: depression, reflection and loneliness. 

Of course, feel free to skip Olive! I’ll bring her in when she is needed and/or addressed.

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These days held very little happiness. Their pace was brisk, despite their interminable slowness. The travel had begun to wear and tear on her body; there was a constant sense of soreness that pulsed in her paws and legs and her still bloated, postpartum tummy. Her mind, which had abused itself endless during every leg of their journey, was tired and listless. Even her mewling infants [so young, so undeserving of such a mother!] seemed depleted, certainly affected by their life-giver’s melancholy aura. Olive felt herself slip even further into depression at her inability to transform such a journey into a fun adventure for her babes — it was the thing she wanted most for them; to spark a love for travel early on. 

But Olive was tired. Olive was crestfallen. She wept silently at almost all times and most of her intermittent energy was cashed in for the fatiguing act of relocating herself and her babies. There was no fun to be had where the new mother was concerned — and no sense of togetherness, either. So when their fifth day of continuous travel was punctuated by yet another hiatus, Olive found harborage amongst the soft grasses of the plateau, pressed up against her lover @Dakarai. The tall spring grasses that swayed around and subsumed the family also shielded them from their reality; it harbored a cloud of sweet milk-scent and Olive luxuriated in it. The action of nursing stirred the oxytocin in her brain and gave the ophelia a slight reprieve; but it was always overshadowed by the hopeless that she harbored in her delicate little heart. Through half-lidded eyes Olive observed as their scanty little mouths [one as black as an oil slick and the others a fuzzy, heather grey] latched onto her breast and pulled forth the thick nectar; the gentle prick of their milkteeth and their featherlight, grunting exhales were  reassuring reminders that her and Dakarai’s babies were real and not a dream conjured by her incoherent and distracted mind. 

Real as they were, the three cubs felt so far from her in both body and spirit — it left olive with an all-consuming desire for physical contact with the cubs and it pained her that she could only carry one at a time [instead of all three]. If she were home, nestled against the enduring stone of her grotto, there would be no need for them to part for even a moment; but here it was necessary to part from her brood so often to be carried and cared for by another [even if those others were often the trusted Dakarai and Lotte] and the sullen fae would take any opportunity for closeness she could [given the circumstances she was given]. So when her eldest finished his meal, the dove pulled @Sirius forth and set to bathing him with her small, rose-tinted tongue — to clean him of residual milk but also, if anything, to soothe her melancholy with the bright light that emanated from her children.



 

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oh jeesh! Have i missed all the others?! Could someone tag me in them?

They had set off five days ago for their new home, and during the travels Dakarai spent his time pressed against Olive. He had taken over the role of light in their family and it scared the shit out of him. Where had Olive gone? This shroud of dark emotions and prolonged silences was not the woman he had fallen for, but merely someone else in her body. Her grief and despair was weighing heavily on his own, and he had to wonder if this was how she felt when dakarai lost his own self and memory. She barely spoke to him anymore, or to anyone for that matter. He was angry with her,worried for her,and bitter that they finally had a life together and she was missing out on the best parts.


It was getting to him rather quickly now, and he found himself casting dark glances her way. Finally when he could take it no more he stopped her with a gentle, but firm nudge to her shoulder "I get it. You are upset, broken. But you are hurting me and our children Olive. You dont speak to me, play with them. What is wrong with you  Mo chuisle?" the term of endearment fell desperately from his maw, as he looked at her with pleading eyes his ears flattening against his head as he sank to his belly before her.

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The pale wolfess looked up when the dark knight sunk directly in her line of sight, beseeching his wife to explain her troubles. Olive lifted her tongue from the feathered form of her son [sitting so nicely between her forearms] gave Dakarai one longing look, blinked once and then cast her gaze off to the side. She couldn’t look at him, to see the disappointment that was so clearly writ cross his features. I did not take a keen eye to see that Olive was in the throes of some otherworldly type of pain, but Dakarai had special insight into Olive’s mind and all the words he spoke were true; but it stung to have it [seemingly] thrown back in her face. Dakarai meant well, for her, for him, for their children and the family as a whole — he always would. 

Then why couldn’t he see that he was better off without her? 

As true as they were, Olive reeled against his claims that she was hurting their children with her apathy. Did he think she hadn’t tried to stop it? Here she was, cleaning milk from the face of their son — and tender act, but after the initial surge of motherly euphoria she was immediately struck with a feeling of emptiness. unworthiness. desolation. She went through the motions [albeit despondently, as these motions were more than enough for all other mothers] and never kept their babies far from her hearth and home — and though it pained the mother to continually face her failures [seemingly without end], she would always do so. Her babies would know the warmth of her mother’s body, if not the warmth of her personality. 

Olive’s eyes shifted back to Dakarai and then [as if her glance was a mistake] quickly flicked back to at the emptiness that occupied the space above his right shoulder. He implored her to speak but she could not [would not]. Words failed to soothe and had always only made their matters worse.  Whenever she opened her mouth to speak, sadness followed — so she wouldn't speak…. she could do her family that favor. So Olive grit her molars together in contention but still plucked up her child with deft jaws and carried him to an area several feet away from her beloved inquisitor. Olive flattered the soft, amber reeds with several twisting circles and then bedded down in them to resume Sirius’s bath, away from the only wolf whose pain she simply could not face.

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Dakarai sat and endured the silence watching the many types of pain flit across Olive's beautiful face. He flattened his ears as she gathered Sirius up and carried him a few feet away from him. He took a shaky breath inward as hurt welled up in his chest, but shoved it back down again as he stood up. Picking Cassiopeia up and carrying her with him, he placed her against Olive's side and took his spot laying behind his wife.

With a soft whimper he placed his chin ontop of the back of Olive's head before trailing soft, slow kisses down the back of her neck and the beginning of her spine down the the middle of her back. All the while he murmured all the nicknames he had given her on their long and not so magnificent journey of love "“Anthousai...My sweet embodiment of peace, Goddess among women,Innocent goddess, My queen...Olive no matter what we go through I love you. We will make it through this, I am not mad at you, Nor am i disappointed in what you did. I made mistakes too, the one mistake that started this whole mess. I crossed into their borders in the first place" he spoke soothingly, as his maw trailed back up her neck slowly. Once done speaking he placed several more kisses on top of her head.


"If you are to suffer, than let me suffer alongside you. Let me share in your pain and lighten your burden" he pleaded with her quietly, his voice hushed so that noboy else but them could hear this conversation.