Silvertip Mountain holy holy

Olive found a certain serenity in the moments following her kittenish outburst. Because the woman was hedonistic as best, it felt good to sometimes indulge in, linger in, her badness. That had been her subconscious’s goal in driving her to Ravensbood Forest, hadn’t it?  A little bit of badness had gotten her many things in her life; and if she was hedonistic at best, then at her worst she was tempestuous and demanding of those who she loved — but it was never with ill reasonings, and never stemmed from a karmic center of evil as did some other wolves’ badness — evil that a younger Olive dared not believe in but the Olive of today knew far too much about. She now took measures to protect herself from it. 

To protect herself, the fae knew she knew she must hide her baddness, no matter how innocuous as it may be, and could not let others see because they did not understand it. Olive had been somewhat successful in this endeavor, as she understood most people to regard her as a soft and demure being — and while that was not untrue, very few others knew the true squalling of her mind. In fact, only two came to mind: Dakarai and Carina, both of whom loved her in spite of it. Neither were with her at that moment, but this she knew. 

lf any approaching wolves were waiting for Olive to notice their presence on her own accord, they would be disappointed. The misted druid was too withdrawn in that moment to notice anything that was not in her immediate vicinity; anything that was not a fluttering thought in the confines of her mind, really. She watched as the crystalline water’s surface return to a state of calm and she pressed her eyes closed in order to finally take her cool drink, undisturbed — and then began to preen her silken collarbone. 

A voice eventually was intrusive enough to draw her attentions. Olive had not known she shared this promontory with others, so when she lifted her gaze to see not one, but two feminine creatures, she was surprised — but not unhappy about it. 

Olive picked up her body from the cool earth, gave her pelt a succinct shake and strode closer to the two others. Both youthsome, both beautiful and both filled with a curious energy. The seraph gave a muted dip of her narrow, milky maw and regarded both beings kindly. “Not yet,” came her reply, cool and rife with suggestion. It had come to be something of a long time since she last spoke to others and her voice was nearly as foreign as her reflection had been just moments before. Olive rolled her tongue against the roof of her mouth, tasting her next words before choosing to speak them. “Are you?” She questioned in return, looking at one girl, then the other, and her tail swept low and wide between her twiggy hocks [one of which would always bear the scars of her past transgressions]. Olive guessed she already knew the answer, but it was still a valid question. The two had both made their appearance at the same time, after all.