Ravensblood Forest Billions of Eyes

Olive was not alone with the stone for more than a few minutes before someone was upon her. Being so close to the borders, her [newfound] pack instincts warned her that it might be unwelcome intruder. Olive steeled herself against the new presence, for Olive knew Teaghlaigh’s policy on acts of trespass and she had no desire to pass such a verdict. Condemnation of death [not the departure itself] was an uncomfortable thought for the pale creature, whether it be prey, nature or wolf. It was not her right to swing that sword... It was purely the decision of the universal gods, whenever they decided to call their spirits back home.

Alas, it was no intruder but a packmate; part of her Teaghlaigh family. Within seconds her icy facade melted into that of warmth and cordiality. The fae beamed up at him, her grin driving her cheeks so high that her vision was slightly compromised. He announced himself through a chummy greeting and mention of beauty: there was no question in her mind that he spoke of the stone. It pulsated, glowed with the power it stored. Olive brushed it gently with her nose, noting it’s resemblance to her beloved moon.

“Palisander,” Olive purred. Though she had yet to formally meet this male [a brother, albeit not by blood], she knew of his name. They had seen each other at Teaghlaigh’s inception and victorious promulgation; even Olive’s sensitive nose had intercepted his scent lingering amoung the sequoias of Ravensblood Forest. It was a scent quite often accompanied by that of a female [Izzy, Ice, Lisley…Olive had a difficult time recalling the name].  

Olive rose to her feet in respect, momentarily taking pause to glance her bright green gaze down to the opalescent moonstone which lay amid her soft, milky paws. In fact, the arrangement of it all appeared as if she had laid three of the stones side by side [never mind that two of the stones were made of bones and blood, rather than everliving stardust]. The stone was beautiful… but it was not hers. The forest could take the gift back and quickly as it had bestowed it upon her. The rules of nature could not be bent and Olive felt a slight twinge of guilt over her possessiveness of it.

“It is, isn't it?” The female swept her gaze from the moonstone to Palisandar, freely allowing the cosmogonic energy of the stone to affect her thoughts and movements - not unlike a high from a drug. “Come closer,” She urged.

“Touch it.”

The muted fae's heartbeat quickened at the thought of sharing this experience of oneness with another. Olive did not know if the brute would be receptive to anything further than the stone’s exterior beauty [as it took an atomic level of attention to perceive]. Many wolves were not receptive, but that would never keep her from trying. She often questioned whether it were limitations of the physical, or limitations of the mind that kept others from seeing the wolve's true role in this world.