Hushed Willows 1936

Heat was not a new experience for Olive, having passed through two or three cycles at this point in her life, but that did it mean it wasn’t a thrilling experience each and every time. The sylph looked forward to the annual event more and more each year, not only for the obvious reasons but for what it represented; another year older, another year wiser, another year observing the cycles of life and another brood to carry on her life’s work of promulgating peace to the masses. Oh yeah, and the sex was great too.

Knowing that she was still in the foremost stages of her season, Olive did not yet seek out Delight for their agreed-upon arrangement. He was as she was, delicate and easily overwhelmed, and she did not want to lay so much upon her newest beau so soon.  Of course, she and her sea-scented lover indulged forth write — but perhaps, as Olive had matured, that all-consuming lust that colored her youth changed. Where there was once the animalistic need to have herself fertilized as quickly as possible, there was now no such rush. Like fine wine, or the flowing of thick honey, these things [so full of splendor and grace] took their time. Elysium wasn’t going anywhere, Delight and Seabreeze weren’t going anywhere, so the shrouded sylph fully experienced the luxury of easing into it and steeping herself in the cocktail of hormones until everything was as right as rain. 

Though she handled herself more responsibly, the general sense of itchy-antsiness was still very much present. Unfortunately for Olive, winter was still in it’s heaviest of seasons; the skies were cloudy and gray, and the ground was much too frozen for any real planting to be done. She visited Lily often to check upon the progress of the woman’s pregnancy, but without her two favorite pastimes to channel her excess energy into, Olive found herself milling about and making busy with inane tasks. Today, the piquant woman decided to move sodden and decaying plant matter to the spot which she had decided would one day be a garden — when the spring returned and everything thawed, nutrients would leach into the ground and make this area especially vibrant.

The thought of colored flowers and pungent herbs captured her attentions and drove her movements — the moving of sod was not a clean task, and as her heather-gray pelage became more and more streaked with mud, Olive began to realize that getting dirty was half the fun that getting clean rarely was.

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Though she was not as pregnant as she would be, Lily still felt the strain of added mass. The pups pushed hard on her bladder, so she urinated frequently. They squirmed a lot, so she was often sore. She felt constantly hungry and constantly tired, and in her darker moments, she wondered why she had chosen this at all. If it was even worth the trouble.

The blackbird, having relieved herself for the tenth time so far that day, came across the mud-streaked Olive with a look of amusement over her face. What are you doing? she asked, taking note of the bedraggled pile of old greenery at the midwife's side. Those herbs surely aren't good for anything; they look terrible. Oh. . .

She trailed off, for she realized Olive had been engaged in burying the plants, something she'd not really seen before. Seeds and saplings, sure, but not detritus. What are you doing? she asked again, but differently, curiosity entering her tone. 

Olive jerked her head up when a voice approached her — after a moment, Olive found it clear that it was Lily, but she had been so involved in her task that her ability to grip the slippery present moment was almost null and void. She stared blinkingly at Lily as the blackbird began to survey the situation and realized that she indeed did not know what was going on. Honestly, Olive barely knew herself. She was just making busy work, driven by the energy of her heat, simply to occupy herself until Seabreeze was free from whatever job or duty took her away and then they could make sweet, sweet love once more. 

Turning to look at the mess she had made and the muck she had displaced, Olive gave a hearty laugh. It did look like mayhem, especially with her silken fur dried and messed with wet earth. It nearly looked like she was wearing brown stockings, or dipped her legs in milk chocolate, for all the good it did her. “From death grows new life,” Olive half-explained. “The soil will be rich because of their sacrifice.” Olive didn’t really know how it worked, but it was a beautiful thing when absolute ruin resulted in absolute opportunity — it was truly how she felt about her plants, and the action of sowing and tending to a garden. 

Olive lifted a twiggy forearm at wipe some dirt from her brow, only to smudge and smear it across her forehead. With an exasperated, almost comical sigh, Olive shook her head and full regarded Lily. “How are you, my friend?"

The explanation didn't really do much for her--was it a religious thing or what?--but Lily smiled and nodded regardless. Oh, I'm all right, she responded, a little faintly. Seeing as I've never been pregnant, all the new, erm, sensations are quite a lot to get used to. But everyone has been so kind and helpful.

Seriously, she felt like a queen. A bloated, incontinent queen, but a queen nonetheless.

How are you? she inquired, canting her head gently to one side. Recovering after putting the festival together? She was grateful for Olive having done so much of the work on that (just as Emily is grateful to Rosie for doing the OOC heavy lifting). It was a fun night for everyone involved, and little to no problems were had.

Olive was thankful for Lily. She was young, but she was experienced in so many ways — and old soul in the truest sense of the word. It was almost as if the woman was without a single fault or moment of awkwardness. Olive saw her as a dear friend and, as such, she was placed upon a high pedestal. The druid was thankful for these moments where they could speak, in peace.

When Lily asked about the fertility festival, Olive knew there was a conversation to be had, is she abandoned her muddy gardening and sat a few feet away from the blackbird. She felt a little silly, being so dirty — but she was in heat, and such things were excused during this week only. “It was so splendid, wasn’t it? To have so many packs all in one place?” Her voice was sincere and full of life, and her mind slid back to that wonderful bacchanal amongst the willows. “It’s a wonderful tradition you started. We should continue it, often.” She nodded and smiled at Lily. It really couldn’t have happened without her.

For a moment, she fell hushed. The festival had also raised some questions within her — thought she took on the appearance of having fun, she was watching her attendants keenly. It was almost as if she had expected the Diaspora General to show up, but he did not. Even though he was represented by several others, it still left her wanting — hungering for more information. In the throes of her season, Olive found that her mind had wandered to her shadowed eidolon more than once. Olive gave Lily a sidelong glance. “That one pack, Diaspora…  What do you know about them?” Lily was a scout, and continued to be active in this endeavor even when pregnant. Surely, she must know something about this group that she didn’t.

She dipped her muzzle bashfully, grateful for the words of praise but not willing to take that much credit. She just loved parties; she came from a family that did. Why wouldn't they bring that same spirit here? Lily only wished that she had implemented them sooner, when they were still at Broken Boulder.

Her brows came together at the name; she shook her head slowly, finding nothing as she racked her brain. I think the festival was the first I've heard of them, Lily responded. I would remember that name, I know. I don't think I met anyone from there, unless they kept their pack affiliation hidden from me.

The blackbird looked concerned all of a sudden, not overly so, but enough for a marked change in expression. Why? Is something the matter, involving them? She hoped they hadn't been causing problems, or if they had, that they'd stopped completely.

Olive nodded her head attentively and pursed her licorice lips as Lily explained her experience with Diaspora, or lack thereof. This was both comforting and disconcerting, at the same time. Comforting because, if there was something to be worried about, surely the gravid blackbird —  a wild scout and ambassador if she had ever seen one — would know about it. Disconcerting because she wanted to talk about Diaspora, and learn more about them, and Lily was going to make her work for it. “Heavens, no!” she tittered in response to the Satori’s suggestion that there might be something wrong. ”I’m just… beginning to become curious about those around us.” she said, being completely truthful.

In the depths of her season, she discovered a severe craving for the Diaspora General that had begun to edge onto something voracious and obsessive. She craved Seabreeze and Delight too, yes, but she could have them whenever she wanted; this was a blessing, she recognized, but Stigmata was so distinctly not hers, and was as far from one of Elysium’s Angels as one could be. It intrigued her, especially because… “The stars shared with me that our neighbors are strong… some, growing stronger yet.” the woman turned a verdant eye towards Lily. In inspired something that Olive rarely felt: fear. Like how some foods are more nourishing when eaten together, it multiplied her wanting a thousandfold. 

But, Olive was not a wanton woman. She was the leader of a pack, and despite her heat, she tried to look behind these phenomenons to find what lies underneath. Clearly, she was fearful for something. “You don’t think anyone would ever come to hurt Elysium, would they?” It was something that Stigmata had once hinted at: not that he would harm Elysium, but that someone might. It was a reasonable concern. “… are we protected enough?” Olive asked hesitantly. Of course, there were her’s and Lily’s and Aliac’s children to think about. It was a question worth asking.

Olive was pretty quick to respond to her query, which soothed her. But then the conversation went into more nebulous territory. She didn't know much about Diaspora, and neither, apparently, did the Shakti. And if the stars were telling her that they were growing stronger. . .

Goodness, I haven't thought about it, Lily responded, shaking her head, her mouth a troubled, crooked line across her muzzle. I've always thought we were relatively safe, not because of security, but because of goodwill. We have no enemies. . .that I know of, anyway. We've done well to make friends.

She canted her head. Are you worried enough that we should send a scout? the Satori queried. To get to know them a little better, at least? Khali would go, if I asked. Khali would do anything if she asked (not that she was going to use that to her advantage, much). But in this case, it was a serious task she would ask him to undertake. She was too pregnant to do it herself, else she would.

quick post, but you know my jungle wifi sitch! <3

Lily’s word were all the druid needed to feel at ease.  “Oh, you’re right,” she said with a sigh.  “Diaspora is considered a friend, and here with our high walls and good will, we are safe.” Sure she was curious, but not at the expense of the sanctuary.  “I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize that or rouse suspicion.”

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Her ears canted forward at the word 'friend'. True, Lily was ebullient enough, but surely they didn't know Diaspora well enough to consider them that close, right? Do you know anyone from that pack? she asked, her face lighting in a curious smile. Anyone worth getting to know?

Well, there were few wolves not worth getting to know. There were, however, stand-outs.

She sat down with a small huff, suddenly needing to pee again. Ugh, I'm so ready to kick these little ones out, Lily said, a little sourly, but still with some good humor intact. They're really doing a number on my bladder.

I’ll throw an ending on here. I always enjoy our threads!

If she was ever going to mention her meetings with Stigmata to another soul, this would be the opportunity — but there was something dirty about it all, something that she wished to remain clandestine, so Olive opted for the latter. “Just those who come to our parties,” she sighed, allowing the subject to change without much fanfare. Olive laughed, “Thankfully all the world is our toilet.” and stood up, feeling rather heated and antsy herself. In her age, she had come to learn to handle herself when she was in season, and how to control her wild impulses. Swimming was one of these things. “Care to make a trip to the restroom, and then maybe go for a swim?” she asked, but Lily was already halfway to the restroom by then so Olive scurried on after her friend, figuring it wouldn’t be that difficult to convince her of.