Ravensblood Forest the swirling stream of what is and what was

Everyone cool with me just closing out the thread here? Chey, feel free to respond once more and/or just archive :)

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Arturo exasperated her! He accused her of not thinking about the family, but was Dakarai not family? and not just that, but single handedly the most important member of the family, to her — was she not supposed to do everything in her power to get him back? Arturo knew love; he had taken a wife, it seemed [this, of course, was the first time she had heard of or met the vivacious, enciente queen [and knew that Lotte must be a truly stellar woman to fell Ceannasach’s walls]. Olive grit her teeth as Arturo called her selfish, when the truth was exactly the opposite. It was out of selflessness that she did what she did; borne out of a complete inconsideration for her own health and safety. Of course, now her own health and safety now included the lives of their children, growing in her womb. Of that, Olive did regret — perhaps that’s why her credibility was shot and why no one believed her to be in the right mind.

But, then he provided a plan. This was the Arturo she knew — the one who always knew what to do. Ceannasach commanded they lay low, step carefully outside of their borders and take it as it comes; which was exactly what she was going to do, for she was scared and did not know what to do to remedy such a situation. The fae had gotten in too deep and now beseeched him to aid her in fixing it — was this not what packs were for? It seemed Ceannsach would lend her such support, but nor he nor Lotte nor Chusi would be pleased about it. With any hope, soon their anger would abate and things would be as they once were, during that blissful time between when Dakarai returned to her and before the crime against Furiosa — albeit, with many little roly poly babies to play with. 

Lotte, true to her queenly form, helped mollify her husband’s ire before he melted back into the shadows of the bleeding forest, then offered her hand to their petite, yet spritely nurse. She lavaged their many wounds and disappeared to find herbs, reappearing shortly with a mouthful of the medicines, then set to work cleaning her wounds. Olive was slightly abashed at the state they were in, that she had not been able to take care of her husband’s wounds better than she had. Olive shut her eyes against the memories as Lotte and the sheep dog went about their ministrations, flashing back to their flight from the woods — how harried and frenzied they had been, pulling along their wasted bodies and pushing themselves way past their corporeal limits, for fear the hellhounds were in pursuit. Though Olive spent many nights pressing various herbs and plants against their lacerations, her skills laid in identifying the plants… not necessarily their medicine properties. So the wounds had festered, the flesh of which the sheepdog clipped away with her teeth. Silently, Olive radiated gratitude for Lotte and the sheepdog, both of whom were showing the two the slightest semblance that everything would be alright.

When the deed was done and their den was offered, Olive could think of nothing more she desired. “Thank you,” Olive said breathlessly, looking up at the two women from a lowered stance. Hobbling forward, keeping her twisted ankle hovering above the ground [though it looked much cleaner after being treated by Coelacanth], braced herself against the nearest well women, eager to sleep for day and days.

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