Ravensblood Forest blood flutes

The exchange between Armand and Arturo commenced and began with compliments, to Olive’s muted flattery. A gift, a confidant? Olive believed those to be misnomers, though she appreciated the men’s faith in her. The woman simply did the job that the universe put before her and equipped her to do: the calling to assuage suffering and crusade for peace. This was one of the reasons she had felt Furiosa’s death so keenly — it was an affront to her very soul, reminding her of the all the work she had yet to do in the world. Olive acknowledged their kindnesses with a wisp of a smile upon her lips, as much as she could afford the [albeit tense] situation. The feathered woman gathered herself and stood with poise, hoping to match their descriptors.

The gilded boy stated his case, believing himself to be tormented and despaired. Olive’s peridot-enameled gaze fell downcast as he said the mention, ears slicking back against her skull in distaste at the memory of her and Armand’s meeting. Sullen and hopeless, writhing upon the ground was he — mental and emotional pain was akin to physical pain, the torture of which was as real as a splintered bone. But Olive was proud of Armand, of how he wished for a new lease on life [rather than the simple release of death]. That’s what Teaghlaigh had given her; and with any hope, that’s what Teaghlaigh would give Armand as well. Olive lifted her head as the masked coywolf overtook the conversation, not immediately denying Armand's request. At this Olive felt happy, for she had a resolute tendency to bring home all sort of bleeding and broken things, and she truly was usure of how Arturo felt about it. 

Arturo began to explain the lawfulness that the family and its associates abided by, the foremost being faith in the family and that of Ceannasach’s words. These charters were some that Olive knew well. She mentally rehearsed them as she traveled the borders and marked their territory. During her travels she would verbally loose them from her dark lips, practicing and appreciating how the words sounded amongst the silence of the universe. For too long Olive believed the only certainty in life was death, but the laws of Teaghlaigh helped her place this belief in something immensely more profound.

This was not her place to speak; not yet. Olive placed the weight of her slender body into her shoulders and front legs, leaning forward and towards Armand in interest and intrigue. If he were to flee, it would likely be at this moment, when the responsibilities of family were place upon his weakened haunches. She would help him [as she helped Howl and, of course, Dakarai] but first, the terms needed acceptance.