with up so floating many bells down

set directly after this thread. @Meissa

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Off into the horizon the two scampered, far away from the pestilent hunting fields and dispersing into their temperate milieu. They needn't go far before they considered themselves safe — or, at least Olive did. Meissa seemed to have a better grip on the land than she, so the dove followed the multicolored shepherd, and she readily assumed that Meissa wouldn't lead her into the jaws of another ornery, territorial pack.

After a time, their collective energy waned, and their quick pace slowed from a sprint, to a gallop, to a trot, then they paused at a stream to water and refresh themselves. The shrouded sylph approached the water's edge and grimaced as she tucked back her elbows against her ribs and lowered down to drink; her entire torso was sore from being bounced against the earth, but the pain hadn't hit her during their pursuit. Now, it throbbed — but at least it wasn't the sharp pain that accompanied a broken bone or internal damage.

Olive knew she would be fine in time; but the shamanwoman might have had to sacrifice more if hadn't Meissa come in with her timely warning when she did. Olive's gilded-green gaze settled on Meissa as she took a long, deep sip of water. Was this where they were going to part ways?

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 She longed to return to Flynn, Archon, and Florence, where they had paused to rest and hunt. Splitting from them had been ill-planned and she felt sick every moment she was away from them, her heart seizing with anxiety over it. Not to mention, she glanced behind them every so often as they ran, hoping that the young one Almight had grappled with was not after them, free from his grasp.

 It seemed that they were safe.

 So, she drank, pausing every so often to make heaving breaths.

 Her eyes returned to the girl she had run with and realized that in fact, she was busy watching her. Swallowing the water that was in her mouth, she lifted her head and shook out her coat. “Why did you stay?” she asked, after a moment, still feeling her heart pounding against the inner walls of her chest. “You could have run while they were distracted with me.” I knew one of them, I could have handled it - you were the stranger.

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Meissa broke their silence, and Olive finished her long drink, attempting to be thoughtful in her approach to the question on both of their lips: what just happened? Let the post-mortem begin. Olive tipped her ashen crown towards the more colorful one of the two, well aware that she looked like a washed-out rag next to something so exquisitely exotic. "You wouldn't have been in the pasture if it weren't to warn me, no?" the shakti woman offered. Above all, she was an ethical and moral being, who answered to just Gods who expected normal things of her. "It simply wouldn't have been right to leave."

However, self-preservation was one of those things the Gods instructed of her. Olive swished her tail between her hocks, wondering how best to explain that part of it. To many creatures, it was only black-or-white; eat or be eaten; be entirely self-sacrificial or entirely self-absorbed. Most of the time, the sylph settled in somewhere right between. In the end, Olive erred on the side of transparency. "— but, in truth, I was a hair's breadth away from leaving." Olive was no that familiar with Meissa yet, but she would willingly bet that if their roles had been reversed, Meissa would have fled as well. There's no use dying or becoming injured for a stranger, and Olive wouldn't have blamed Meissa or the Nightwalkers for their choices. However, there was also the matter of "I am not one who is well equipped for battle," which was probably an obvious fact to anyone who saw the willowisp. Olive was featherlight, and did not bear any of the scars that belied a skill in fighting — though, that's not to say she hadn't been in a scrap or two before.

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 Meissa considered this and gave a little laugh. “I suppose not,” she said, peering at the woman appreciatively. Most wolves, she knew, had the tendency to only think for themselves. The soldier had... been forced to take care of herself for the latter half of her childhood, resulting in a woman who saw the vulnerability in others and focused on it more than her own. She wasn't selfless in entirety, simply more focused on protecting others than herself. Distracting - and getting distracted, all the same.

 “I expected you to flee once I had their attention, to be honest,” she said after the statement of who was or wasn't equipped for battle. “I know - well, knew, now - the man, it's likely that fact that saved both of our hides.” Had she not known Almight, he would have joined in on the attack. Perhaps knowing someone within the mist was why Meissa had decided to step out into it to call to this girl - perhaps she would have watched in horror had she not known anyone within, had she not had some sense of security.

 No.

 Probably not.

 She sighed, her claws scraping the earth. “I'm Meissa - I take it you're on your own?” Rarely did wolves with packs wander about, even when warned by "golden men" - hm, wonder who that was. “I'm traveling with my mate,” - this felt weird. They were yet to be mated in truth at this point but they were bonded as such - “and a few others currently.” Having just fled from the Nightwalkers and the colour of the girl's coat, she doubted she was going to head back to spill the beans anytime soon. Still, anxiety clawed at her throat.

 She was no longer Elkshire, though the fact that her escape was so recent was their saving grace.

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Olive seemed to ponder for a moment, as if Meissa knowing the big, bellowing fellow changed the situation. In the white fae's mind, it did not — but it did make the situation more interesting, which held the all-too-real possibility of attracting her more. Meissa's knowledge of the pack and of the man Almight himself belied an interesting story; one that Olive hoped to attend one day. "He seemed..." the mousy woman mused, giving the water's edge a small dash with her paw. "very logical." It was the only word she could think for it, really. Olive sent a laugh and a look over to Meissa as she concluded "Funny that he should reside with lunatics."

At last, introductions — this was something the sylph had never been good at remembering. Olive had been known to meet & form entire relationships with others entirely without knowing their names. They simply dove into a story, or some experience together, that transcended the need altogether. Still, it was nice to have a formal acquaintance of this woman. "I'm Olive," she returned, nodding along as Meissa explain her current nomadic situation. She was in good company. "Aye," she chimed, gazing about surreptitiously. "It's rather difficult to be a lone wolf amongst these parts, isn't it?"

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 She looked almost sad, thinking about Almight being stuck in the Temperate. He... did not fit among the violent wolves there, it was true. He had told her she was the sanest of Elkshire and perhaps he was the sanest of the Nightwalkers. Oh, what a friendship that would have been! Had it the chance to blossom into a true bond, allies not only in their packs but in truth.

 It was almost heartbreaking to know that it could not be so.

 Their friendship was as damned as she would be in the eyes of Elkshire once they knew of her defection.

 “His father leads it,” she said with a shake of her head, “I don't think he has a choice but to stay among the beasts there.” Vengeance. Just thinking about the man made the hair along her spine rise. He had looked at her with such disgust and she had wanted to bite him for it. She had simply been doing her job, protecting from a potential danger. Perhaps it was also because the man she cared for and now loved had been limp, unconscious between the Nightwalker leader and the Elkshire queen.

 Olive, what a pretty name. It fit her, in a way. Well, it fit her eyes and was as gentle a name as one might be. “I'd recommend leaving the Temperate completely,” she said honestly and with a sigh. “My group and I are moving eastward, beyond the trees. If you would like to accompany us, I doubt any of us would mind.” Or perhaps she could explore more and might just follow them later. There was a wiggling feeling of jealousy at inviting another beautiful woman into their fold but she tried to force it away with logic.

 Perhaps she would have something to offer.

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Olive could not help but let her lips purse and brow furrow when Meissa spoke of Almight's victimhood. It was a trap she saw too many wolves fall into; the belief that they have no choice.  “We always have a choice,” Olive stated, rather bluntly, knowing this to be fact. The wolves that guarded the pasture made every choice to be there, just as Olive had made a choice to stay one-more-night after she had been warned of the danger. The little witch found that she often had little to no patience for wolves who were prisoners of their own making (though, that didn't mean she felt any less gratitude towards the strange, ill-fitting man for saving her ass back there).

The topic of conversation, however, quickly moved on. The fact that Olive's inter-pack faux-pas hadn't deterred Meissa from seeing Olive's value, bode well on behalf the girl (and her group's) character. Olive pondered this possibility thoughtfully for a moment, chewing it over in her mind. The idea that this might be the entire reason for your dreams last night flitted through her consciousness and she gave the possibility the nod it deserved; but she desired to know more about this group, and what their intentions were. What could they possibly offer her, that Olive couldn't supply herself?

The ashen woman loosened her posture, shaking her head “I appreciate your open-hearted offer,” she said, then with the twist of a wry grin— “But I shan’t allow you to save my hide twice in one day.” There was no more to this than the fact that Olive did not like making split-moment decisions; she would rather sleep on it, perhaps pray on it, and intuit what she could about the opportunity at hand. “I have some work left to do, but I would love to find you again.” A day or two, at most; a handful more chances to savor her freedom, before surrendering it.

“How will I know your group, if I see them?”

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 “What I mean is,” she said with a quiet cough, “I don't think they'd let him leave alive.” She worried for the man, if he decided to flee the Nightwalkers. His father would likely take it as an insult and with the way the man looked, his violence deep seated in his eyes? Almight's life would be at stake. “I met his father once, unfortunately,... a vile man.”

 She hoped she would never see his cruel face again.

 Meissa's lips turned into a soft laugh as Olive turned down her offer. She understood the sentiment. Had they not been in a rush to fine a new home, she wondered if she and Flynn would have wandered for miles, testing out places for their new home. “We're a small group, some six including myself. I'm fairly obvious,” she gave a flick of her tails and a chuckle, “My mate's name is Flynn, er, Flynnigan. He's creamy, long-legged, and handsome, with fur that curls about and frames his face, with beautiful green eyes...” she cut herself off with a laugh, realizing she was rambling about him.

 Even a blind wolf could see how much she cared for him.

 “We're heading beyond the trees. Flynn and I are the tallest, the others are roundabout your height.” Even little Archon, as young as he was, would soon grow in size to reach his full height. “I apologize for giving little information on the others - we're in the midst of fleeing and their ties to us aren't as known in the Temperate.” She did not want prying ears to listen in and spread word to Elkshire before they even had the chance to leave the forest.

 Plus, if this woman was somehow captured and questioned, she would have little more to tell than what would soon be known.

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Olive was always appreciative when she engaged with another who could hold a decent conversation — it was an odd rarity, she found, and she was saddled with the responsibility to carrying the brunt of her interactions more than the extrovert was comfortable with. So the misted sylph sat back on her haunches, finding repose for the first time since their initial meeting, and eagerly drank in Meissa's words as she offered them like a honeyed wine. Or, maybe she was just high off of the endorphins of another near-death experience.

Then, a particular word that left Meissa's ochre-tinted lips caused a reaction, a subtle rise, from Olive. "Flynningan?" she repeated, the puzzle-pieces of the last 24 hours falling into place. Her tail wagged at the recognition of another, which was always a funny occurrence when traveling through a new place, for the first time. "I met him only just the other day," she explained, thinking back to the prince's sudden appearance, and sudden disappearance. Olive gave her head a toss. "I should have known you two were involved," she laughed. "You are two of a perfect kind." Both brave, generously kind in their warnings, and intensely verbose.

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 When Meissa found strangers who didn't get fed up by her verbiage, she was always grateful. Honestly, half the time she had no clue she was talking so much. Her mouth ran as her mind went, neither paying much attention to the other. Thankfully, Olive seemed to be taking it gracefully, settling down for their chat though Meissa knew they were probably both wondering how long they might stay before another stranger showed up and bared its teeth.

 Well, that was what Meissa was wondering.

 Despite her chattering, her mind was focused on their surroundings, worry sinking into every inch of her being.

 Thankfully, Olive didn't question her mentions of flight, instead keying in on something that made Meissa look at her with a query in her eyes. So, she'd met Flynn. She supposed that was normal, the man was a scout after all. He roamed and ran and probably came across all sorts of strange men and beautiful women. She wondered if he was the golden man Olive had spoken of before. “Thank you?” she offered with a returned laugh, unsure whether it was truly a compliment or not.

 You see, Meissa had gone her whole life with very little in the regards of compliments. She had been a freak from birth and had not been very old at all when her life had shattered and her so called destiny had been stripped away. Since then - and even then - she had faced bullies, liars, thieves, and the like. Trust was hard to come by and when someone showed kindness, she could never be too certain it was not simply mockery, to be chattered about behind closed doors where she could not hear and hurt.

 Yet... why would this woman do that? She didn't think she would, so she tried to push her nervous mistrust aside. “Unfortunately, I believe we are soon to be outlawed in these lands. Not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon enough.” How long until word spread? Until the dogs came to tear them limb from bloody limb?

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Outlawed? Olive was immediately intrigued, as it wasn't often that she met outlaws — many times, she was the most wiley wolf she knew. It made Olive more excited to eventually meet up with Meissa and Flynn once more, and learn about these characters. If anything, at least she knew who their enemies were.

At least she wouldn't be heading north, towards the plains, for nothing.

Olive nodded, not daring to ask any intimate questions of a stranger — especially not when it was a situation that did not concern her. "Aye," the little woman acknowledged. "Your secret is safe with me." and it was. Olive was a dealer of both light and dark magic, but she did not play dirty, and there was very little that managed to intimidate and frighten her. Meissa had her own path, which was destined to meet-up with her, and Olive would not dare to believe she had control over that information. That, simply put, was the Gods' work.

The ashen fae stood up, sweeping to her full, diminutive stature. "I think it might be best we split up, and keep moving, lest unfriendly faces find us here. " She was not one to tempt the fates, and it sounded like they both had places they needed to be — both, far away from this place. Olive dipped her chin in gratitude, confident that this was a see-you-later. "I will repay your many kindnesses, one day soon." she assured her.

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 Meissa smiled, genuine thanks gleaming in her eyes. She gave a little sigh and stood, shaking out her pelt at the suggestion that they part ways. Yes, she supposed she should. Flynn would undoubtedly be worried by now. How long had they been apart? An hour, two? She would need to catch up to his scent, to where they had been resting. Ah. She should hunt something on the way out, too, so it didn't seem that she'd just gone for a frolic without any purpose.

 The soldier dipped her head. “I hope to see you soon, then! It was lovely to meet you, Olive - I wish you the best.” With a gentle wag of her tails, she turned and leaped into the woods, heading in a roundabout way back towards her lover and their small convoy.

 Onwards to a new life.

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Exit! We can close this now or after, if you want to reply <3

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