Gyrfalcon's Keep bo'ijani

@Olive

 

So this is where our heroine's journey begins; a dying meadow painted in shades of gray beneath a thin blanket of white. The sun's retreat is long past and the moon provides all of the light needed to properly stumble in the darkness. There is silence everywhere, yet in the night can be heard the hymns of the wind.

Djehanne sat beneath the starlit sky, her eyes entranced by its beauty. Occasionally, she would close them and speak a prayer into existence, though no sound escaped her maw. The art of discipline and devotion was a silent talent, after all. From what she could tell, there lived a pack nearby (she wasn't interested in their borders, but rather wary of their members) and yet one woman's scent stuck out to her.
Even though she longed for a name to call the she-wolf forth, such was something that the breeze couldn't carry to her ears, and so Djehanne sat, waiting. If the other was to find her way toward the plains and therefore to the priestess within them then it would be based on the will of the gods alone. 

The cold never suited the grey woman. Olive understood and accepted the winter; the role that it played in the rhythm of the seasons was inarguable. The white flurries that the heavens bequeathed them facilitated the return of nutrients to the earth [in the form of decaying vegetation] and facilitated the fresh growth of springtime. But winter was bleak and nipped at her bones. The snows kept her stationary far too often and stifled her motley of visions. Though - Father Winter had his reasons and he dismounted upon the Teekon Wilds every year, regardless of how she felt about it. And so Olive submitted to winter, year after year, season after season.

If Olive had her druthers, the vibrancy of spring would last the entire year. The prosperity that warmer weather afforded life [in general] was boundless and the complexity of it all fascinated her to no end.

No matter the season, however, Olive would never not be touched by wanderlust. Her curiosity to see what lay just beyond the familiar led her in wide circles around her home, Ravensblood Forest. The smoky prospector was always testing the limits of her paws and the limits of the land around her. Often times she would simply traipse in a straight line, jutting out from the forest into the unknown. The sylph would do this for hours before turning around  [she even spent a few nights in the wild when Olive overshot herself]. This thirst to move was instilled in her from a young pup and did not change when she grew and joined a pack of her own - Ceannasach even encouraged her to travel outside their territory… and, leaving the safety of Ravensblood Forest felt a bit dangerous. It was during one of these bouts of wanderlust that she met her eternal, kindred lover; this was all the proof Olive needed to believe only greatness could come from her wayfarer ways. Travel was a part of her physicality as much as it was a part of her soul - Olive’s willowy frame benefitted immensely from the consistent movement and kept her petite figure filled out. 

It was for that reason that Olive rose from her bed in the stony grotto, next to the warmth of her lover, and trotted to one of her favorite locations: Gryfalcon’s Keep. The energy of the place dew her forth, as if she were a moth to the flame. The sylph cantered through the light layer of frost, her dainty paws leaving dark imprints  - a window to the decomposition underneath. The darkness cradled her within its arms and pulled her forth; but the darkness could not hide the form of a white stranger.

“Darling, why do you sit in the cold?” her rich alto sung as Olive neared the stranger.

Femininity seeped from the nymphette as she approached, light in step. Awe was smeared across Djehanne's face, only broken by the inviting smile she held. 

Darling, why do you sit in the cold?

No words were uttered in response. Only a motioning of her head toward the sky and a childlike attempt to grasp the stars was offered. In the winter when the earth was silent, it was the stars that kept Ila company. She would tell them her stories and to her they would breathe hymns of appreciation. Even the sky became lonely from time to time. 
A soft whimper and a nudge toward her companion served as Djehanne's way of asking the same of her; why would a pack wolf be this far from home? A story was a story and Djehanne decided then that she would listen them all.

The silent woman offered her no words, superseding verbal communication with formal gestures. Her gesture was simple: a soft sweep of the chin towards the darkened Arcadia that hovered above them. Olive’s forest-hued eyes followed the woman’s action, landing upon the stars that glinted above. They shone strongly that night, their ancient lights softly luminating the duo and bathing them in their eternal wisdom. There was nothing quite like opening yourself to the heavens and letting it guide you - it was affirming and soothing, like a mother who cradled her baby. Since Olive had the luck to be born a wolf, she was intrinsically  connected to the sky and often felt compelled to sing her songs unto the moon, the night goddess. As a women, her internal and hormonal rhythms were in lock-step with the moon and its divine feminine cycles of waxing and waning. Olive wondered if the white wolf before her recognized this strength, which lay inside her as well.

“You and I are two of a kind, it seems.” Olive’s gaze fell back upon the woman and she spoke softly. 

The bite of the cold dulled her sensitive nose somewhat, but the thin air allowed scents to evanesce in a nearly palpable manner. Olive pulled forth a vigorous inhale, taking pleasure in the crispness that drew past the back of her throat and swirled within her lungs. Black nostrils tingled with the shewolf’s scent; her scent was thick and heavy but was unencumbered by the bouquet of a pack. Olive was momentarily dismayed, as she had been looking forward to meeting more of her Donnelaith and Blackrock Depth allies - but Olive’s attention was drawn back as the shewolf fed Olive’s question back onto her. 

More silence? Olive canted her head towards the alabastrine wolf. Olive felt the need to talk, to provide the words that would fill the space between them. It was not out of a selfish need to tell her own story, but… Olive couldn’t really explain it.

“I wander,” the sylph responded matter-of-factly with a toss of the head. “My family and I, we are forest wolves. But when the trees speak too loudly, I retreat here. With the Gryfalcons, it is usually a squawking bedlam - but I love it. It seems the oncoming winter has either silenced them or driven them from their keep.”

“Do you have a family, too?”

Djehanne liked the low lilt of her companion's voice. It was soothing, gentle; in that moment, it was decided that her name would be Bo'ijani -- one of light. Indeed they were one in the same; wandering souls with no convictions to settling. A sharp breath was taken before Bo began on her own telling of the present (luckily, she was good at reading signals, which Djehanne mentally praised her for). Once she was finished, she posed a question of family. Did Djehanne have one? Not anymore, no. But at one point in time, she had a family more intricately connected than that of most.
Her parents (and later, the first two of her three mates) loved and cherished, as well as another girl and a younger boy (two of her sworn lovers, but again, we're getting ahead of ourselves). Once she was old enough, her father claimed her as one of his, thus she became his partner, as well as his other two choice females -- Ila's mother and her premier servant. As the leader's mate, she was allowed her pick of lovers; her younger siblings and the pack's priest were the most logical choices. Bo would never know any of this though, for something that complex would take ages to sign.
With a smile and a paw to the raw earth, Djehanne shook her head.

Still the woman articulated no sound, sharing gestures in lieu of utterances; and yet she communicated honestly and Olive understood her in a profound way. The stranger confirmed the assertion with a single shake of her head, and Olive felt a picture of the shewolf’s family materialize within her mind - albeit, shrouded by a dark sense of anonymity. Though the figures that existed in front of her mind’s eye were likely products of Olives own vivid imagination, there was a part of the nymph believed she, herself, could tap into the earth’s collective consciousness and access the infinite knowledge of the planet’s history. This connection was a thing Olive tried to hone daily… but it chose that very moment to rush into Olive, in the form of spectral wolves whom Olive assumed to be the shewolf’s family.

As quickly as hallucination appeared, it faded and left Olive blinking in the night. Her eyes refocused onto Indrani and, for reasons unknown, the sylph felt herself pushed towards the white mistress. Olive openly sought the silent communication that only touch could afford and she pushed her nose into the woman’s blanched décolletage, nuzzling in a friendly way. She hoped that the stranger would be receptive to her openness, for it was an unprovoked caress [only born of a guttural need to embrace [i]Indrani.

This time, their conversation fell silent as Bo nuzzled into the woman's pelt. A smile crossed Djehanne's face, and she bent down to whisper into the other's ear, Thank you. Her voice was hoarse and scratched against her throat as it was forced from hiding, thus Djehanne retreated into herself, taken over by insecurity.
It was a private part of who Djehanne was, her voice, for it never seemed to match the beauty she boasted externally. It hadn't been properly honed since the days of her first words and it seemed that now, she would only speak when needed. 
Now that the two women were seperate, Djehanne gave a half-smile, and looked back up to the stars. She was once again entranced in their beauty, yet now there was someone to share it with.

The fae immediately understood why the woman muted and voiceless. Her voice was a peculiar thing; her vocal chords brought forth raspy and forced tones that obscured her simple sentiment. Her speech came as a momentary shock to Olive not only for its modulation, but because Olive had been reveling in the elegant silence of their embrace.  Olive felt the vibrations as her head lay against Indrani’s neck and raised her head to look the white specter’s visage, her mind racing with question.

But Olive spoke non of her questions and smiling genuinely at her, expressing a silent you’re welcome. Olive backpedaled a step, giving the woman’s vulnerability a buffer zone – but she seemed bothered not, at least outwardly. Instead she looked towards the stars, which spoke infinitely and filled the margins between them. Olive followed, as she always did, craning her head upwards as she had done time and time again. Her mother used to tease her about this, exclaiming that her neck would stay that way should she continue to bend her slender frame.  The harlequin giggled to herself at the memory.

Suddenly, the eternal heavens opened and shone their light upon Olive. Perhaps, she mused, the wolves in her vision were not Indrani’s family, but her own brothers and sisters of Teaghlaigh? Olive turned her head towards to white wolf to speak; the words were spoken by her mortal body, but inspired by the gods.

“You don’t have a family… but, would you like one?

For a moment, the two shared a mysterious silence beneath the cosmos, but Bo broke the sheath with a question to Djehanne. Did she want a home? Having been alone for so long, perhaps it was time that she found another place to settle, and yet the idea of staying still on such a vast track led a pang of anxiety into her chest. She'd become accustomed to life as a loner, and she worried that without that freedom, she wouldn't know how to continue. Djehanne tilted her head to the side and perked her ears upward, as though to ask for more.
Rather than keeping her attention on the night sky, she turned her body to face Bo's and contemplated both the risks and benefits. For one, a pack would mean the possibility of surviving the winter, but Djehanne wasn't afraid of death. She'd also have other wolves to bond with, and yet sometimes the company of others became overwhelming to the young femme. Regardless, she wanted to know more of this family Bo spoke about.

The frosted babe did not immediately decline her offer, instead beveling her gaze as if to inquire for more. At this, Olive felt a gentle smile dance across her ashen lips. It was hard for her to put into words a thing such as Teaghlaigh. The foe had actively abstained from pack hood for close to a year of her young adulthood, shirking the responsibilities of a family in favor of spiritual expansion. Then she had been subterfuged by the warrior Furiosa; the woman who brought her to the family out of dereliction and the need for penance. In the end, officially joining as one of Teaghlaigh’s recruits was Olive’s decision alone [once the ruse had been revealed] — But Olive chuckled at how something so beautiful had been spun from such unlikely threads.

"We're a small family, but tight and strong. Those in the family… we’re all equals, under Ceannasach. Every wolf’s opinion is heard and considered.” It was that very fact that convinced her to ultimately sign on to the nascent group of wolves. Olive had always entertained her own values of equanimity, and she appreciated a wolf who could tie it into their leadership style [as Arturo had]. Far too many wolves ruled tyrannically, overcoming others with force and leveraging fear.   Ceannasach's word was law, of course, but that much was necessary for any one wolf to act as arbiter over others.

“Teaghlaigh disproved my every misconception about pack life. Life's sweetness does not diminish when shared with others. Instead, it becomes much sweeter.”