Arrow Lake i want a boy who’s so drunk he doesn’t talk

aw, set for the new moon on the 17th

The earth was restless so Olive was restless. The night was young, but already the woman knew she was not going to find sleep. Olive belabored many things — her exile from teaghlaigh and the pink scar that permanently marred her pretty maw, for a few examples — but this was not one of them. It was the new moon and she buzzed with energy, so she simply did not go to bed that night and continued about her tasks. As a lone wolf, these were few. No borders to maintain, no caches to stock with death, not that she had partaken in these responsibilities anyways. So Olive used the time to forage and find food. So slight of frame, it did not take much to keep the woman hale and healthy. 

Now she foraged by the weak moonlight, picking through the barren branches on low-lying scrub bushes. Some had winter iceberries, tart and red, hidden in the crooks and crannies. The woman located them not by sight but smelt them with her sensitive nose and felt them with her licorice lips before plucking them and swallowing, knowing full and well that winter was not kind and would likely wipe these out these gems, soon. Winter took without asking permission. 

When she had picked over the entire area, Olive retreated to the shores of the nearby lake, enticed by the way the water’s surface glittered and flashed with pale moonbeams. The new moon did not afford much radiance, but here the effect was multiplied and she gazed into the water, absolutely dazzled and enraptured by the light show. Before long she was reminded of how thirsty she was and broke her meditation to drink, drawing the cool water into her belly and feeling it settle there. With her concentration now broken, the misted sylph picked herself up and began to stretch her limbs, hoping to shake some of the restless energy through repetitive, mindful movements.  

These two met exactly a year ago.

There was another soul that was wandering the area that night. Birk, troubled by the dreams of the Queen, who called for him to follow only to disappear in the woods without a sight or trail, he decided to spend the rest of the hours left until dawn doing something. He did not like to feel the longing and loss for the person, who had been the closest definition of love in his entire life, therefore he hoped that he could occupy his mind with something else.

He would not have noticed her in the dark, had it not been for the sound of water and ice-breaking. Curious he drew nearer and nearer, until he spotted lone wolf near a lake. Encouraged by the fact that there was no one else around, he came closer, announcing his presence with a quiet bark, once he was within hearing distance.

Aww, cuties!

Olive’s attention was drawn to the presence of another coming up behind her. Had she been in anything but her most alert state at that moment — so strange, for such early hours in the morning! — she might have been spooked. However, the chuff of the stranger seemed kindly enough and Olive pulled herself up from where she stretched her limber limbs; rising to her full high, as petite as that might be. With a sweeping turn — her movements made graceful thanks to the moon’s potent energy — she turned to face him.  

Blinking her eyes at the man, she was struck with an immediate sense of familiarity [that was all too common nowadays].  Olive knitted her brows together and stuck her nose out closer — as if the extra inch would afford her a better sense of smell. “I know you, don’t I?” she chimed, and if Olive were a human these words would have accompanied by a pointed finger; trying to pin exactly where in her history she had met this wolf and what state of mind she had been in at the time. Were apologies in order here, as they were almost everywhere else? 

The she-wolf was alert and quick to react, once she had heard Birk announce his presence. Therefore the Northerner stopped, choosing a proud and confident stance to keep and with head tilted to the side, listened to, what his object of interest had to say in the matter. 

Her words surprised him, because though his memory was almost flawless, when it came to remembering pretty girls, who had crossed his path, there had been far too many in a very long span of time. Therefore, while recent names and faces stuck, the rest were tested by elements and eventually disappeared. 

"Maybe," he said with a crooked smile and sat down, to make the other party more comfortable with his presence. "Though I have to say that I have met many beautiful women over the months, therefore... the real question to ask is - when did we meet?"

Olive couldn’t blame him for not remembering her because, well, she couldn’t immediately recall him either. Though she didn’t know it, so much had occurred between their first meeting and this very moment — things that she had belabored so often in her mind, that she did not care to run through it all again right now. That was one of the biggest changes, in her mind: she was now ready to leave her past behind, whereas before the lamb clung on anything and everything the universe handed her. 

She had to prove her resiliency to herself, if for no one else. Perhaps that was the lesson to learn from all of this life’s messiness. 

The ash-and-bone femme sighed, shrugged her shoulders and rolled them down her back, casting a sidelong, emerald glance to her new moon and letting her attention fall back to the man. “Oh I see,” she sighed demurely. With a playful smile tugging at her lips, she continued. “I am not worth remembering amongst a sea of pretty girls.” Her plumage made low and wide sweeps against the ground between her hocks. Surely that was not true, and she knew it. “It must have been a long time ago.” 

"I beg to differ," Birk replied with a mischievous smile, "If you have made into the list of the beautiful ladies that have graced my life with their presence - then that is a compliment." And it really was - life for him was dull, mundane - at best. He had grown up surrounded by savagery and ugliness. Beauty was a temporary and fleeting thing and, although two years had passed since he had left his old life behind, he still cherished every moment, when someone came to charm his existance and give some colors to it. 

"And in my opinion, names hardly matter, when a person is truly beautiful. It radiates, it shines - it isn't forgotten," he finished.

“I suppose we’ll never know,” she tittered and breathed a small “yes,” in complete agreement with his mention of radiating, shining beauty. The druid recognized other more from the energetic imprint they left upon her rather than names, or faces. It was how this man’s identity registered in her deepest recesses, while his name and their meeting continued to escape her. Her perception of others was not limited to her five senses — she felt other’s presences before she saw them — so, yes, Olive knew exactly what he meant, and she respected it. 

Either way, if they were to remember each other, wouldn’t the gods have made it so? The tiny priestess had questioned the gods often as of late, but in this, she relented.

Drawing close, Olive found comfort in the unexplained familiarity. “Oh, in that case,” she chirped, “Perhaps it is best we remain… anonymous.” and, leaving no room for dispute, she carried the conversation to one of her favorite topics (second only to flattery from strange, yet familiar, men) — the moon, or, the lack thereof. “It’s a new moon.” This time, for her, always symbolized renewal; and there can only be renewal where there was once nothingness. Mother moon and her phases — the most dependable force on the planet. If the lunar goddess could perish every month, only to be reborn once more, then why couldn't she. “That’s why it’s so dark out.” she mentioned casually, as if everybody mused upon these types of things.        

If she wished to remain nameless, Birk was not going to argue - it would make things a lot easier, when they met each other again. Having exchanged no names previously, would spare the awkward "I think I know you" moment in the future. His gaze, however, lingered on her frame, memorizing all the pretty and dainty details of it, because she was a beautiful creature and he would hate to forget her again. 

Her mention of moon, made him look up in the sky to search for it and then cast a surprised glance, when he saw none there. He was no astronomer and had no interest in the celestial objects, until someone pointed out to them. Therefore the fact that the moon was not, where it always was, was a little confusing. To say the least. 

"Who ate him?" he asked playfully, knowing full well that there was a very rational and scientifically precise explanation of the moon's whereabouts.

The man followed her prompts and turned his attention to address the sky, swathes of crushed, black velvet and stars that looked as if fireflies had been frozen in time — Olive felt as though she could reach up and pick them right out of the night sky, but knew she would never, ever get the chance. Anything she knew about the astronomy and astrology was purely speculation; nothing more than intuition. 

“Her,” she corrected, throwing the stranger a spirited, sidelong glance and crooking her brow suggestively. Most creatures did not give inanimate objects genders, but the moon was distinctly feminine in her receptivity and supportive nature — just as the sun was masculine in his power and strength and fortitude. It was intuition, yes, but it was indisputable!

The shrouded sylph tittered at his assertion, for it was such a silly thing! Her gaze glimmered in the starlight and Olive found she could not pull herself away from the swirling starry night, not even to answer the man’s question. “She has not been eaten, she is in hiding.” Olive pointed out, her voice light and dancing upon every word.  “not even the gods wish to be seen 100% of the time.” and if the gods did it, then that surely means it was okay for them mortals to do it, too! There was so shame in needing seclusion — for, from seclusion, there was rebirth.

“In two weeks, the moon will sit full in the night sky — oh, that is the witching hour! Then, in two more weeks, the moon will disappear again.” Finally, the woman turned to look at the star-dappled stranger, wondering what his take on all this information would be. Perhaps he had already known, and was testing her! “It’s the most reliable system in the world,” Olive said with a sigh, letting her voice trail off with her next, solemn statement. “Sometimes, it's the only thing you can rely on…”

 

Birk furrowed her brow, when Olive corrected him in regards of Moon's gender, because, where he came from it was the other way round. Moon was a male, guardian the warriors and representing masculine power, whereas the Sun was a female, viewed as a mother of all the living things. But this was as far as his interest for deities and religion went - he did not care much about, what people thought of those shiny orbs in the sky. Fancy stories - nothing more.

"Reliable, hmm..." Birk looked from Olive back to the empty place, where the moon had been, and could not for the world imagine, what use was this knowledge to anyone. Navigating? If you had a good set of brains and nose, you could find your way around. Counting time? Did it really matter, when you had to be thankful for the every morning you actually woke up, for every day that you did not get injured? It did not hunt for you, provide for you, care for you - a useless system, even if it was reliable as a clock. 

But he said nothing of this to the woman, sensing that this piece of knowledge was very important for her. "I deduce that you don't have much of a family or friends?" Birk asked, his voice neutral. If that was the case, he could easily relate to her, because the only person he relied on was himself.

The stranger did not seem as interested in the moon, or the lack thereof, as she was. In fact, few people ever were — many entertained a decent wonder in regards to the heavens, but it rarely escalated to fanaticism as it did for the ash and cream druid. Not that Olive ever regretted it, even in throes of her deepest sorrows and most awful punishments. The gods dealt their karma no matter is she were aware of it or now, as they did to everyone. At least, as the moon gods’ disciple, she had a chance to bargain against her misfortunes.

But still, Olive could not help but appear crestfallen when he did not make comment or further engage her on the subject. Instead, he asked towards her friends and family, which was not an unfeasible transition given her last statement. This was one of her least favorite subject [but also, somehow, her favorite] and she knew she could not get out of answering his question truthfully. 

Olive spoke softly, with an air of solemn earnestness that had become characteristic of her. “I do…” she conceded, voice trailing off and gaze meeting Birk’s own.“but, they are all… absent, right now.” Okay, okay, it was a small fib — but did this stranger deserve to know her story when he did not even know her name? If he did not care for the moon, would he even care for her auld lang syne? A quirk of her brow silently asked what about you? though, she admitted to herself, she would be jealous if it turned out he had both friends and family. Lucky bastard.

She quickly moved on. “Oh, so, does the moon not impress you?” the lamb questioned playfully, squinted her eyes at him and wiggling her nose. “Well, what does impress you?”

"Like most people here," Birk said, but did not respond to her silent inquiry about his own state of affairs. As far as family went - he did not give a damn, where they were and what were they doing now. Whether they even were alive. They had lost all meaning to him, when he had made a decision to leave the group and that way - all the past behind. Friends, however, were a field, where a lot was yet to discover. So far - he had not met any person he would want to bond closer with. 

"Is that a bad thing?" he inquired nonchalantly. People, who spent too much time gazing at the stars or moon, either got eaten or starved in his limited opinion. "The living," he said. "Extraordinary and remarkable creatures."

Hmmm! The man asked questions that made her think. Olive supposed it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing that he was unimpressed by the moon’s grandeur. Perhaps he preferred the sun, or the water, or any of the myriad of elements that wolfkind chose to deify… But, what was more likely was that he was not a religious man, and he preferred to keep himself amongst the realm of the living than dispersed amongst the ethereal. It was not a bad thing — in fact, this was how most other chose to live their mortal lives. It was not her preference, but it certainly wasn’t bad. 

The earth was a kaleidoscope of worldviews and perspectives, and she did not have it in her fight them all — and certainly not those who were nonviolent. Her proselytizing was better served elsewhere. “No,” the lamb agreed after thoughtful consideration. Then, she listened to him and the stranger answered her unspoken question with ease. “Okay, okay,” the woman acquiesced, the descent of her tone topped with a sweet smile. The druid would gladly climb down from the astrologer’s mantle and meet him here, in the real world, upon solid ground. After all, he was right! The living were infinitely more remarkable than the gods, with all of their flaws and emotions and other psychosocial aspects that could simply not be explained or reasoned with. She knew everything about the gods — but those who were around her, kept surprising her. “I agree.”        

"I have to admit though - that kind of people is rare," Birk mused on, feeling that since he had started the subject, he should go on as well. Even if he had very little to add. For the very reason that was mentioned above. 

"And more often than not - there are people, who like to pretend that they are either or both of those things and yet - they ain't," here he smiled and added laughing. "Like me now - trying to pretend, how very smart I am, but talking an utter nonesense." 

"What about you - what does impress you - I imagine that you are just as smart as you look, you might have better examples and reasonings," he asked with genuine interest in the she-wolf.

The shrouded woman listened wholeheartedly to the stranger speak on about the rarity of extraordinary souls. In this, Olive did not wholeheartedly agree — there was something in every being that deserved to be loved — and not because of the decisions it made in its life, but because it was simply alive. To be alive was amongst the most amazing anomalies in the world, and that perspective meant that everything was extraordinary. It was a most wonderful way to live, when her pervasive sadness let her. 

But still, she understood what he meant. Some of the wolves she had met truly challenged her idealistic sense of unconditional love. At this, Olive laughed and let her words jab playfully into his conversation, cutting him off. “Nonsense? No!” she chirped when he spoke of himself. The sylph took a sweeping, jaguar-esque step closer, letting him know that his words were not true! “There are far too many wolves whose remarkability only goes skin deep.” Olive sighed, her breath evanescing into the cool nighttime air. “It is not their fault, though — Sometimes this world is not so accepting of people’s true selves. ”

Olive turned her head to the side, her faceted jade gaze landing upon his alabaster pelage. “The only nonsense you speak is to say such things about yourself. You are not one of those wolves, I can tell.” She nodded. “Honesty impresses me... rawness; realness.” she replied, after a moment’s deliberation."I admire most those people who can look the world in the face and have the courage to be their true selves, no matter the cost."  

The she-wolf was very quick and eager to defend Birk's harsh judgement of himself and, while she opposed every argument of his with one of hers, he had to wonder and feel amazed for such a passion in the name of an almost stranger. He did not believe for one second that a person could be that naive to trust in good in others based on first impressions and some spilled words here and there. It was more likely that she had not spoken to another soul in so long that any wretched soul (like his, for example) seemed the epitome of wonderfulness.

That was not to say he did not enjoy her compliments, he basked in them like a tomcat in the sunlight and with a warm glow in his eyes, he kept smiling all the while she talked. She - on the other hand - appeared to be just as nice as she presented herself to be. Even more she finished with words that gave him an opportunity to find out more on this subject, therefore: "Do you count yourself among those brave people you speak so highly of?"

The sylph loved the expression upon his face — he was clearly tickled by her cordiality. There was always a part of her that loved to please; men, especially. It manifested as a lightness in the pit of her belly and an expansive feeling in her chest, and felt quite lovely. Looking at the stranger smile at her, she felt it begin to blossom.

“Me? Oh, no!” Olive lashed her ashen plume as the man asked after herself. She should have said yes, but she looked so much better when she was demure; cloaked in humility. Olive was slowly learning to love herself again — to recognize her own divinity — but it had been slow-goings for a while there. These tendencies towards sadness, she reckoned, would likely never go away. “I am just a humble servant.” The woman said this with a twist of a smile, letting him know that this was not a bad thing.

“But I try my hardest to be true, for better or for worse.”

Olive pirouetted and laid her hips against the earth, tail curling demurely around her narrow haunches. That had never been one of her faults; Olive could not be less Olive if her own life depended on it. In fact, she had nearly sacrificed her life to protect her Olive-ness. To be her was something only she could accomplish, so didn’t she owe it to the gods? It was auspicious, but it wasn’t all sunshine and roses, though. “I have lost some of those I love in the process, she admitted, her eau-de-nil gaze holding his own. This was not a bad thing, either. “but... I trust the process.”

Olive mused thoughtfully. “In the end, though… aren’t we better without those people?” She pressed her feathered ears forward on her crown and leaned in towards in, interested in his thoughts on the subject. He had a perspective that balanced her own; she appreciated it very much. “The ones who keep you grounded — when you truly want to fly?”
  

"I think that it is not easy to be yourself, when you don't really know, who you are," Birk replied, having a feeling that this dainty female was closer to that big secret than he himself was. As far as he could remember, it had always been about adapting and wearing those masks that people expected you to wear. When he had run together with his birth pack, he had been this emotionless, tough and aggressive person, because the environment they lived in let it be no other way. He had been this cheerful and carefree spirit, until life forced him to be part of a pack. Yet another mask - of loyalty, duty, working hard and getting along, even if you did not particularly liked those people. 

And now... he craved for the leading position not because he had had that inner-wish himself, someone had said that he could do so much more with his life. Therfore for the lack of a better purpose - he did. Joined a pack, acted civil, tried to be a trustworthy person, fill in the niches that were free and climb the ranks. Was his heart really into it - he could not answer. He had never cared to delve that deep into himself, choosing the easiest way that was closest at hand. Probably - somewhere between those many masks he wore, there truly were bits and pieces of his true-self, and if one carefully picked them out one by one, they could make a whole picture of, who Birk was.

"Can't speak for myself in that matter - never had anyone that close and therefore I always got up and left, if I wished so," he replied. "But I agree that it is better to be free and happy, than... dutiful, but discontent."

It was nice how he entertained her conversations and did not shy away from philosophical topics, despite his clear unknowingness of the subject. To Olive, it was all more a matter of opinion, anyways — but the topic of the lupine condition oftentimes did not seem pertinent, and those around her defaulted to trite subjects such as the weather or the movement of the elk herds. It was nice to indulge in such conversation with a willing and lighthearted partner.

“That is true,” she agreed when the brute mentioned that it’s impossible to be oneself, if one doesn’t know oneself. Otherwise, how could it be labeled as the truth, if it stemmed from a place of ignorance? It was often the first hurdled that kept others from pursuing the spiritual path, and it was a big one indeed — for truly knowing oneself was not always pretty. But, they were not alone to fight down the path of universal truth on their own. With a wry smile, the lamb pointed out “but, the universe is a wonderful teacher, to those who choose to listen.” For it was the gods that had paved her road from curiosity to self-inquiry, after all. 

A giggle pealed from the woman’s maw, and she attempted to cover her mouth with a tiny, pointed paw. “Then you are truly lucky!” she commented brightly, out from behind her shield. For so long she had wished to be free, but was unwilling to leave her cubs behind; she loved them so! Now that she was not caught in the clutches of necessity, Olive felt her soul become light and buoyant once more. “Are you a pack wolf? I feel you might be a hunter — or a guardian.” Olive planted both forepaws back upon the earth and leaned towards him once more, pretending to cut a critical, discerning eye towards him. She could scent others upon his pelt, but she wanted to hear him say it.
 

Again she turned to the celestial bodies as her source of all information and guidance in life. Birk inwardly rolled his eyes, but let his gaze wander to the sky and wonder, what was so special in those shiny dots above, that could give one wolf peace of mind. Did it depend on, how long you looked at them? Or, whether you needed a special kind of communication to hear them talking? In a way he envied the nameless woman a little, for she - in his opinion - had it easy. She was told, what to do, while he - once thrown in the middle of the lake - had to learn himself, how to stay afloat, how to swim and how not to drown in the process.

"Is that much of an importance for you?" he asked curiously tilting his head to the side. "Seeing that you bow to no one and are your own... man?"

For a moment, Olive turned inward and pondered the stranger’s question. She had almost forgotten that they were playing at a ~*mysterious*~ game here, one where they did not know each other’s names, or stories, or true personalities. It felt so natural to ask after his passions, as she felt very at ease around the man… but it was more fun to leave so many stones unturned. Not every wolf she met was meant to be in her life forever, and that was not a bad thing.

“Hmm, no…” she answered sweetly, almost girlishly. Her lips pressed together as she pretended to be in deep thought, pondering the value of the information she sought. “I suppose it doesn’t.” A raised brow punctuated her statement, and she lifted her body to stand, moving in a tight pirouette as she did so. The sylph questioned him. “Bow to no one? Then what do you call…” her voice trailed after her chest dipped into a slavish curtsy, one paw lifting and curling into her breast as she did so. Olive’s bright, faceted-jade gaze thrust up towards the stranger. “…this?” 

"Now you bow to mock me," Birk replied, watching her with an amused smile. She was pretty and the silly thing she had just done had made her all the more adorable. Childlike even, if not for the obvious difference in age and the maturity of her thoughts and views of the world. It made him wonder, what had she been like, when the life's hardships had not yet put the ugly marks on her soul and left dirty footprints there.

"Yet your spirit is unbent," he remarked.

The fae lifted herself from her humble curtsy and shot the man a sly grin. Turning up her chin playfully, she chimed  “Oh, I do not mock!” and laughed as she took a dancing step away, backwards, away from him.  It was true, she did not mock him — instead, her intentions were to flirt and beguile. His attentions felt so sweet.

As he often did, the stranger made mention of an idea that gave her pause. Certainly, the ambiguity of the new moon had skewed his perception! For she was bent — not broken, but bent. Perhaps if they had remembered their first meeting, just one year prior, he might have recognized this change in her. “I’m not sure the spirit can ever truly bend,” she commented easily, moony eyes fluttering slowly. “Perhaps it evolves into something entirely new, something closer to enlightenment.” It wasn’t the truth, but whatever. "Something more beautiful.

"When you look at it like that... maybe," Birk himself was not so sure. Remembering, what he had been, when he had run with the Ice Giants, and what he was now - a big difference. Maybe his soul had evolved into something better than it had been, though he was pretty sure that the darkness of his past was still lurking in the shadows and that, if he wished so, he could easily convert back to his old ways. 

"But break it can certainly," he added, thinking now about wolves he had met in his previous home and who he did not believe could ever change for the better. They were beyond improvement or any kind of repairs. "Well, lovely fae," he got to his feet and stretched, "though I would enjoy talking to you all night long - I have to return for the night-patrol at my pack."

fade in your next post, perhaps?

The man spoke more words and Olive listened, drinking in his voice even as he disagreed. It was no matter; very few others saw the world as she did, and loved the things she loved, so the druid was used to critique — and she rather liked the way the stranger challenged her, forcing her to revaluate some idea that she considered to be fact. 

“Me too,” she stated when he announced his departure, though she had no place to be and no duties to uphold. Thus was the life of a lone wolf, and the shirking of responsibilities suited her well. Still, she felt compelled to leave her true identity obscured — visible on the surface, but clouded when one took a closer look. “Until we meet again,” she laughed, walking past him and bumping his hips with her own as she slid by. If they had met before, and they had met again tonight, then Olive was certain this was not to be the last of him.