Ravensblood Forest the swirling stream of what is and what was

this seems like a good place to wrap this up, especially since the bfw thread is underway. :-) last post from me & turo.

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Arturo does not wish to linger. His ire has not yet settled — and it likely will not for many weeks, months even — and lingering only continues to feed the fire that burns low but at it’s hottest. His brow furrows and his lips form a terse line when Olive speaks to him, reminding him that she stood with him when he claimed Ravensblood yet her words sound like an accusation to him. She cannot understand why he is so angry with them. Just as Arturo cannot understand why they think he should not be. Ceannasach does not understand how they think their crime was justified and why they believe he should support them, why they should not be treated as criminals. They committed a crime against a savage pack (if the words about Blackfeather Forest are to be believed) and potentially put The Family at risk — of which is the greatest crime yet. Arturo does not care about their crimes to the Blackfeather wolves. What he cares about is the whiplash that he suspects will come down upon Teaghlaigh. If it comes to pass it cannot go unpunished and that is simply how it is. The muscles in Arturo’s cheek jump as his burning gaze rains down upon Olive. “You did not stand shoulder to shoulder with me when you trespassed and risked the entire Family. You did not put The Family first. You should have returned to us and we could have found a way to save Dakarai together. Instead, you were selfish. You endangered yourself, Dakarai, your children and your Family.” It should have been enough to warrant exile. It was enough. He should do it. He should chase them from his borders and leave their wounds to fester. He should let them die.

He trembles for a moment because he should but he cannot. He is uncertain of how to perceive Dakarai still, Arturo cares for Olive. She is the little sister he never had — the one that he hadn’t realized he needed. He was protective over her even in his ire. Arturo understands better than anyone that love makes anyone capable of crazy and stupid things. He would have ran into the flames that consumed Donnelaith for Lotte without a second thought to his own life, knowing that the fire could have consumed him if he’d have needed to; but even if she would not have freed herself and even if he would have and the flame would have taken him it would not have truly put Teaghlaigh in danger. They would have mourned (perhaps) but they would have survived. Someone would have risen to the occasion. “I do not know,” He speaks, exasperated. He is suddenly tired. He does not know what to do. Not yet. “We lay low. We step carefully outside of our borders. We will take it as it comes.” For now this is the best he can offer. He has been thrown into territory he does not know how to masterfully navigate. Arturo only hopes that he finds his footing before the Blackfeather wolves show up on their doorstep. His gaze seeks Lotte and he moves towards her, brushing his side against her’s before the shadows of the bleeding sequoias swallow him as if he is nothing more than a wraith.

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