Ravensblood Forest Im here with a pledge hand slapped across my chest

As Dakarai offered his descant, Olive found her mind jutting back to a phrase uttered so eloquently by the adolescent to her side: those blackfeather fuckers. Olive had been restruck by the feeling that she was incredibly undeserving of her dark knight. Dakarai had done so much for her; and how much had she done for him? The specter had been witness to his entire family’s extermination and somehow found the capacity in his heart to love…her. He had come back to her and fought for her, forsook an entire stygian pack and traveled great distances [while injured!] just to be with her…and all little Olive could do was nurse his wounds and offer her eternal love. The two just did not seem commensurate in her eyes. 

Guilt began to simmer in her gut, but guilt trips were for later; now was for reveling in the return of her kindred spirit. Ceannasach was still weighing Dakarai in the eyes of Teaglaigh, but Olive did not worry about the tipping of the scale. Though Arturo did meet Dakarai in a most consequential state, Olive trusted Ceannasach implicitly to make the righteous decision; just as Arturo trusted her [and the rest of the pack] to keep the family safe. 

Admittedly, the greyscale fae was too preoccupied with the rapid beating of her heart and soul to harken to the formalities that flew around her [or lack thereof, in the case of Dak's name]. Having choked down her anger and guilt from moments before, Olive was once again bemused in a reverie of the eastward Sunspire and the devotional scene that took place upon it. Olive wanted to shout Dakarai’s name and confess unto Arturo and Chusi endless adulations for his character and his innate goodness.

However, instead of being cloyingly sweet, Olive opted to exude softness and encouragement: Dakarai’s perfect embodiment of peace. 

“Take it nice and slow,” the maiden murmured into him, running her tongue across his matted, murky pelt. Olive, too, was curious about the skills Dakarai possessed; but no matter how valuable the information, her king needed to find repose and heal. Their courtship had flared with such force that these types of details seemed negligible - and, in the face of Dakarai’s wounds, still did. Olive turned to Chusi and Arturo in turn, concern gently written upon her features. 

“Ceannasach, shall we summon Isley? I worry about these wounds… They may fester if not properly tended to soon.”