Ravensblood Forest Betrayal between the trees

The two women of Teaghlaigh connected again in an embrace. Olive rested her small, feathered frame against Isley’s, appreciating the interlude. The grey girl was always sought to strike balance between the two extremes of her personality: the need for companionship and the need for solitude and privacy. The fae found herself swaying like a pendulum between the two - but, right then was a moment she opened herself completely to the idea of unity in the face of grief. Why should she seclude herself, when togetherness assuaged so many of the feelings within her?

This, really, was Olive’s first foray into real sadness [until then, she had lived a pretty fortunate life]. Leaving her natal pack had been tough, yes, but that experience was tinged with excitement and the red herring’s death had been tinged with dread and a weird sense of regret. Though she hated the very experience of it, Olive felt as if she more deeply understood the wretched golden boy she found to the south, the boy who loved to wallow in his sorrows — the intense emotions were almost addicting and left emptiness when they subsided.

Isley could speak no more truth than she did in that moment, and she took at face value. Olive had always preached concepts of cosmic unfairness [the idea that life played along to its own accord…and no one else’s], but she had never really known unfairness. Isley seemed to be wise on these matters and Olive wanted to know more.  “What do you do with it?” Olive inquired, with a curious sadness dancing along her timbre.