caught up in your ghost story

The pregnancy was wearing on her gradually, ebbing away at her energy in a way she had never experienced before. Annika didn't know if it was a positive or negative sign, but she was absolutely exhausted. Traveling so late into her pregnancy had been miserable, but she hadn't complained. There was no use in whinging about something she had agreed to do, no matter how painful it was to waddle miles upon miles and how even resting, she felt uncomfortable. What was worse now was the desire to nest, to bed down somewhere and line a den with plush furs and make it cozy as could be. Difficult to do while traveling, naturally, but she yearned for it.

The mountains brought her closer to @Valeska and Elysium, though she couldn't see herself heading back there to visit anytime soon. She hadn't a clue if Harper was still skulking about, but she didn't trust the woman not to attack her while pregnant. It had become painfully clear that Annika was unwanted in her sister's life, and so she knew any potential pups she had would be equally as shunned. That was fine.

She had gone her entire life without a family. What difference did it make now?

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Olive was enjoying the period of relative freedom that generally came after long periods of reclusivity. She gave herself a large berth around Little Haven to travel, often time staying away from The Hireath for days at a time before returning to bring whatever news came from the outer world, indulge in their overflowing caches, check on @Meissa's progressing pregnancy, rest her weary bones in the cozy depths of the dens... but it was never long before she set out once more. She oft wondered why she had never pursued scout-hood for her career, as she took to it as a fish in water; but medicine was her trade, and travel, her pleasure-sport.

This evening, upon making her way back towards Little Haven's territory, Olive found another wolf. In fact, the pale druid scented her long before she saw her; a pregnant fae, not far. Perhaps any other wolf might have simply moved on, but Olive had an entire ancestry comprised of midwives and wet-nurses behind her, and this unspoken lineage drove many of her choices in her life; as did it belie her decision to seek out the pregnant bitch and offer whatever she could in her service. Finding the women in repose, Olive waved her tail in greeting and maintained her distance. "Oh, dear mother to be," she sang, hoping her words carried despite the relative distance. "How may I serve you? Something to eat, perhaps?" because that's what the shamanwoman was created to do: to serve her Gods, and there was nothing more godlike and holy than a gravid woman, embodying the meaning of life itself.

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Annika recognized the scent that approached to some extent, having encountered others from the same pack. The woman who approached was foreign, however, and Annie noted with some relief there was not a ring pierced through her nose. She paused in her steps as the stranger referred to her as a mother to be, offering her services at the same time. Annika's cheeks flushed, her eyes unable to hold direct contact for long. "There's nothing that can be done." Annika had no need of anything and her pups would never see the light of day, so she couldn't fathom what need she would have of a midwife. "I appreciate the offer, but there's no need."

@Olive

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Olive couldn't help but titter at her response, not knowing the true meaning behind her words. "Please," the silken, pale women stepped forward with a smile. "Mothers are never given the grace they truly deserve," she suggested, knowing this to be the truth in 90% of the cases she saw. Mothers gave too much and ran themselves ragged; while fathers, even the most doting, kept their distance. It was nature's wild law, and not something they could battle against alone. Together, however, shewolves could support one another through these vicissitudes of life.

"Allow me to groom you," Olive suggested, waving her tail, hoping her forwardness would not be unwelcome — but if Olive knew anything else about women, she knew that they did not often accept help, and needed to be cajoled into it. There were so many things that became nigh impossible once a pregnancy engulfed one's waistline, and regular grooming was oft one of those things. Mustering all the warmth in her gaze that she could, Olive expressed her next true sentiment. "Nothing would please me more."

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Annika was accustomed to bizarre wolves. She'd seen a lot of weirdos in her life, particularly as a child, but this.. was a whole new level of awkwardness. It felt wrong to shatter this woman's heart, but Annika felt she had no choice. "I have never successfully carried a litter to term. These pups are as good as dead, I am no mother. You do not need to waste your time on me." Her gaze was steely, but overall, Annika was.. sad. Sad that this woman had approached her and thrown such lavish accolades, sad that she would never actually live up to them.

@Olive asked to groom her, and for a heartbeat she wanted to say yes. Not because she was filthy or needed it, but because she seemed so sincere. How long had it been since someone had so genuinely wanted to touch her? Without the scent of heat to draw them in, she doubted even men would have been interested beyond brief touches. Annika felt her heart weighed down in her chest, unnaturally quiet for a few breaths.

"O-okay," she finally agreed, ears angling against her head. Annika wouldn't explain her change of heart, hoped she wouldn't be asked about it. Uncertain what to do from there, the Russian simply stood.

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Oh. Immediately, Olive felt a pang of guilt for having forced the woman's hand, revealing the nightmare that likely haunted her every waking moment — but as Olive saw it, all the world has had its traumas, and every soul had its karma. There was no reason to hide one's suffering and sorrow for the sake of the comfort of others. Olive, especially, was attuned and ready to hold space for those who were suffering; in fact, she saw that to be the essence of her life's purpose. The woman needn't hide her despair or shame from her, an essential stranger who ever-suspended judgement when it came to those in need.

Still, it was hard to know what to say in these moments. The little witch erred on the side of 'validation.' "All the more reason to treat you with kindness," she spoke softly, solemnly, and moved towards the woman to take her place at her side. Not wanting the stranger to feel like a spectacle, or a subject to be pitied, Olive got directly down to work, placing her tongue against the fur of her shoulder and licking it against the grain to clean it, and then with the grain to smooth the fur back down. For several moments, there was silence, and the sylph did her best to channel love energy through her simple caresses; to be a conduit; to impart some sort of higher vibration in the woman that would last beyond their short meeting. Attempting a casual demeanor despite her intentions, Olive pulled back for a moment.

"What should I call the woman who possesses such strength?" she questioned, using these words more out of certainty, than of flattery. The hardest trials forged the most dynamic individuals, Olive usually found, so she already knew the woman to have an interesting character.

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