Ravensblood Forest pale sun rising

Olive stayed locked in her deep bow for several second long before rising out of it. Arturo did not expect her to become the Red Herring that Furiosa had been. And how could she? Where Furiosa had ben divisive and unforgiving, Olive was gentle and understanding. Where Furiosa might had angered; Olive remained placid. Olive would shine in places that departed red herring never could, and the seraph was pleased that Arturo had confidence in her own brand of governmental acumen. Now, she would have a hand in the stewardship of the family. Olive lifted an aristocratic chin at the thought. This was a strong platform for her peaceful crusades. Her opinion was esteemed; for she was poílin.

“I would be honored to stand by your side as your Red Herring. I trust no one else with the act,” not true, for she very much so trusted Chusi and Dakarai [even if Ceannasach didn’t necessarily warm up quickly to her betrothed]— but it sure sounded nice, didn’t it? Though Olive’s words were business like, her decorum forsook her: her paws tapped the earth, ash and cream banner swept to-and-fro behind her, ears sitting tall of the … all telltale signs of her excitement and acceptance of his offering. Olive let loose a chuckle, further breaking her professional demeanor. “I guess I won’t really be standing beside you, eh? More like in front of you?” She would be the smokescreen, keeping their Ceannasach guarded and safe. Dakarai would help her with this task, no doubt; but Olive was keen to try her hand at such a task. “Might you have any words of wisdom for someone new to a leadership role?”

Then, the lamb’s mind turned to the scene she witnessed earlier that day. Doe, her seismic fit, Szymon lashing out at his subordinate -- It had all been so… disconcerting, and even though the Red Herring didn’t know what to make of it, Ceannasach was sure to. Therefore, she had to enlighten Ceannasach as soon a possible; was this not part of her newly installed bureaucratic duties? “I worry for Blackrock Depths,” she transitioned rather abruptly.  “Doe, she’s— she’s not well. Szymon seemed no better.... More than just Donnelaith must have burned in that fire.” Olive stammered. “Their spirits seemed… burdened.” Then Olive paused, a weird mixture of concern and enthusiasm writ upon her features.