Ψ · There's a valley of Mega Dogs over our heads,

 Everything was a whirlwind.

 They had a new home. She had seen, what, god? Whatever it was had brought her brother back to her, her dear brother whose life had been stripped from him far too young. She and Flynn were doing well, she thought at least. They both had insecurities that they would need to grow to understand, but wasn't that a huge part of a relationship?

 At least her Pains were over, alleviated in a way she hadn't realized possible in years prior.

 With a grunt, the woman shook herself off and trotted up along the edge of the Hiraeth, the upper edge where a fall could kill. She had begun to dig out a sort of ridge of sorts, a moat? She was, in any words, digging holes and making a ridge of earth along the edge to try to make it harder to fling oneself over and off the ledge. She would have gone to get rocks but she had yet to find a decent source of stones that she might be able to move and layer along the upper edge.

 Hopefully the rain wouldn't wash it all away.

---

+1 formation

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It wasn’t often that Olive found herself in the company of a pack, and the packmates that came along with such things, but the starry-eyed witch never spurned such ideas or turned away the opportunities when they presented themselves. The only thing Olive asked of herself was that she do not force her alliances, and as with everything else in her life, she wanted it to come from a place of flow.

That’s how Olive came to find herself with the wolves of Little Haven. They were a strange lot, that was for certain, but she always had been somewhat of a misfit herself, and found that she highly valued others who similarly walked to the beat of their own drum. It was interesting, to say the least, and if Olive ever found herself on her deathbed, and the only thing she had ever done was live an interesting life, then Olive could die at ease.

Trotting around the rim of her newest abode, only slightly perturbed by the heights and the sheer-ness of the drop-off, the sylph came upon Meissa — much like how Meissa had once come upon her. “Meissa, hello!” the druid called out, her voice chiming atop the sound of the breeze rushing over the gap in the earth. Pace quickened, she trotted closer and smiled at the ground-moulding the woman was doing. “How has your day been?”

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Closer still Olive danced, settling just steps away from Meissa and her gathering of earth and rocks. She could see now how she was attempting to build a small rim around the lip of the cater, and appreciated the thought and care it took to think of something like that. Very motherly, very alpha-like. Perhaps that's why, in this lifetime, Olive had been neither of these things yet. "Yes, the wolves of Little Haven are very intrepid, if nothing else!" she laughed, swinging her nose to and fro, to ascertain where her efforts would be best placed, since she was now dedicated to the task.

Meissa mentioned feeling cooped up, and Olive suddenly recognized a similar sentiment bubble up in her throat; it had been unknown to her until this moment, but it made sense almost immediately. "Aye, I feel similarly, but without explanation," she mentioned, turning her head to the side. She was like a bird in a cage, although she was a most willing dove, and this was an exquisite cage. But with security, came a lack of urgency. "This place you've found is nearly too perfect. I'm not sure where I can be of most use to the pack," the woman explained with a smile on her lips, wondering if Meissa had any other sage wisdom to spare her. The alphaess had been most insightful, so far.

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 The things she did behind the scenes were never asked for. She doubted her love had thought of a barrier, something to protect them atop the ridge of their home, but the dangers, she saw. Ever since she had had to chase him into the rain and lift him from the ledge and then he had leaped right back over, she knew she had to do something. She had the faintest memories of walls, of stone upon stone so they locked together without the need for any mortar.

 So, using what little memory she had of that, she had begun her work.

 She laughed at what Olive said, giving a bit of a nod. “I suppose we have to be,” what with the devil on their tails and all. “Would you like to help with the wall?” It was hard work but with two of them, it would be easier to try to maneuver rocks without chipping teeth.

 Olive went on to speak of feeling a similar restlessness and Meissa smiled.

 Though, a part of her panged at the idea. Almost too perfect. Despite the positive language, it felt mildly nerve-inducing. She shook the thought aside, figuring it to be one of her many anxieties just playing away at her emotions. “What skills do you have in particular?” she'd ask as she began to move another slab of stone towards the wall. She didn't want to assume Olive was a healer, despite her personality seeming to be far more motherly than either of their existing ones.

 Ah, how ironic, those two men. They had no bedside manner... but what use was bedside manner when one might be dying, she supposed.

 Perhaps Olive was more interested in hunting or patrolling. Was she a scout, like Flynn? Meissa glanced over to wait for a response.

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 Meissa's tails waved in excitement as Olive joined in on the quest to build a wall. She continued on, rolling over another stone with slow, careful movements until it, too, lay beside the one Olive had placed. A family of midwives and medics, how interesting! Usually, Meissa had only come across one or two, but an entire family of them was quite a remarkable feat.

 “Was it a sort of ... family-bound rank?” She'd often thought about how other packs might function. Would some work where family lines held certain ranks and therefore family secrets grew as the generations moved on? Certainly, generational knowledge would be passed on more easily that way.

 Then she poke of the gods and communicating with them. Meissa listened intently at this, curious and somewhat concerned.

 The only gods she'd ever known had abandoned them.

 “Do your gods have names?” she asked as she turned, dragging another stone with careful steps. As they moved up the hill, it would become harder to bring the gathered stones without accidentally dropping them and rolling them down the hill. Olive was an interesting soul, so wrapped in mystery that Meissa wasn't sure what she planned on doing with her life. “Perhaps the role of Druid would suit you? Healers, therapists, the like would be that role. We don't have one particular to the gods... but perhaps in time, if we learn about them.” She somewhat doubted the idea would fly with the majority of the pack and she herself was hesitant to put any trust in any higher power.

 The stone rolled to place, she turned back to the pale lady. “I'll be honest, the pack of my birth had gods.” This much, she remembered. “They were flesh and bone and deceived us.” What makes yours any different from them?

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Listening to Meissa, Olive trotted to a somewhat larger rock, pondering over the title of druid. The word already was dripping with meaning, for Olive; she was a druid by heart and by ancestry, and now by title. "Hm, druid," the woman muttered as she regarded the stone and tested it with a shoulder. It was too big for her to attempt alone, and it remained steadfast in its spot. If it were to move, they would likely have to move it together. "I do like the sound of it," she came to a decision, both about the proposed pack-duties, as well as her unspoken idea of moving the stone together. Olive cast Meissa a glance over her shoulder with a raised eyebrow, indicating her silent suggestion.

However, when Meissa went into details about her false gods, Olive felt her blood rush through her veins all but for a moment -- spirituality remained so far away from so many, and she regarded any soul that profited off of the deception of anyone's desire to find peace and love as the lowest of the low. Olive couldn't her her tone, as she faced Meissa fully. "Meissa, one thing you can be sure of, is this:" she stated matter-of-factly, with her splayed ears denoting the gravity of this crime. "Any creature of flesh and bone that proclaims itself to be a god, and demands to be obeyed..." she shook her head "...is certainly not a god."

The gods didn't do. They simply were.

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 At the approval, Meissa smiled and moved to Olive's side, putting her greater bulk into effect in assisting in moving the stone. “I believe it would suit you well, though do not feel limited to it - we allow claiming multiple titles if you so desire!” She wondered what else the lady would like to do. Medicine and magics of religion, perhaps, but what else? Would she be satisfied to life around the camp or would she have a wandering spirit like their beloved king?

 The stone finally locked into place and she sighed, stepping back to regard it. Their discussion had moved on to sourer topics and she looked at the pale lady, hesitant.

 Did Olive somehow have a connection to the Angels?

 The words spoken by the druid put her to ease, at least slightly. “That is good to hear,” she admitted with a soft chuckle. “Then... how do you communicate with the gods? Dreams?” How ironic, if this woman were a dream-seer, for that had been the role she had been born to claim. The role she had been placed into and then stripped away from when the walls fell and topped their lives.

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As the two rolled their tony boulder into place, Olive smiled as she strained, the flat of her shoulder pressing the rock forward alongside Meissa. It didn't roll as much as it was pushed, and with much effort, it finally locked into place. Thankfully, Meissa has taken her augury for what it was: a warning against evil, so that they might be able to see it more clearly, and avoid eventual heartache. It did exist, and it usually existed within those two took advantage of the innocents' willingness to believe.

but conversation moved forward, and Meissa asked after skills. These questions were not uncommon to Olive, as her relationship with the Gods and Goddesses and general sense of spirituality were central to the core of her being; and often were seen as 'magic' by those who were new to it. However, from magic, it was the farthest thing. "It's been taught to me that dreams only your mind speaking to you, or ancestors who are bound to you through blood. It's all very... subjective." the pale druid sat back on her haunches, unknowingly preparing for a diatribe.

"...but the gods speak in a language we all understand; the wind, and the rain, the tides. the movements of flocks of birds. the shapes of clouds. how snow becomes a river which becomes the sea," as she spoke, each one of these images came to mind, and with it, a general sense of understanding of how life should be — how it was meant to be lived. Was spirituality not all about finding happiness, purpose, and passion, to creating a life worth living? At the core of it, these were integral concerns to most things that were gifted with consciousness. Thus, she took her job very seriously. "It's a skill any of us can hone, but like hunting or leading, some are born more proficient." Olive chimed, with a smile. She felt that, with Meissa's intuitive and sacrificial nature, she had some godliness about her, too.

Of course, reading the trees and weather was never the skill Olive was asked about. The curiosities of others' usually lay in her art of divination. "At times, the Gods have granted me the sight," the woman admitted with a sheepish grin. "But I need to ask for it, and it only happens when the moon is just so..." Olive hung her head surreptitiously "It's often what I hold rituals for — to open the third eye,"

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 Dreams were one's mind speaking to itself.

 Okay, she could agree with that. She always found that her dreams followed a general theme of what she had been experiencing or thinking about shortly before bed. Sometimes it was sweet, other times she woke with back slick with sweat, panting and too nervous to return to sleep's grand realm. Though, the thought of ancestors through blood speaking to her... she wondered on her ancestry. Did she have any ancestors who would bother with her?

 After all, it had been her direct ancestors who had left her to rot.

 Olive's words went on to describe Nature as the voice of the gods. Meissa listened to this thoughtfully, wondering on the worshipful tale that her friend spoke of. “Is-” she started, then paused to think for a moment. “Shortly after we found the Hiraeth, I witnessed something. What looked like a star, coming from the sky and dancing atop the plains before returning to the sky. I've met at least one other who saw it as well. Could... that have been something that you speak of?”

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I'll fade this here, if you're cool with it!

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Olive listened with much interest as Meissa described the thing she had seen. It almost sounded like something Olive would have said herself, but it wasn't often that stars came down from the sky and danced. In fact, this instance was so exclusive, that she remembered very clearly the other man to have seen it. "I met a man who had seen the same thing," the woman answered excitedly. "Did it... take the shape of a wolf?" Olive sought to clarify, but instead cut herself off and didn't leave room for Meissa to reply. "I do think you glimpsed a goddess that day," the woman stammered. "I wholly regret having not seen it myself."

Whether or not the star-wolfess was real was yet to be seen; but what did become real that day, was a deepening to the women's friendship, and The Hireath gained a nice, new fence.

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