The Sunspire Easy come, Easy go

There it was. Olive had laid herself bare in front of him and had been rewarded handsomely. The words tonight, tomorrow and the day after dripped from his mouth as he wished to know her completely. The thought made her squirm with desire. Olive knew what they were doing; she knew what this was. It was the dance of lovers, the intimate, ethereal spiral about which bards wove their ballads. She had seen it in person but now knew what it felt like to be in its throes.

Though, songs were just songs and words were just words. What did it take to truly know another completely?  It was interesting to see how often the two parts of one whole could be so divergent [yet, at their core, completely cohesive]. It was as if Dakarai held a mirror up to Olive; showing her all the things that she had never known before. The mistress knew nothing about him, but somehow felt as though she understood him on a deeper level.

“Dakarai,” she could not say his name without needing to touch him. “…my king upon the mountain.” Olive cooed into his ear, briefly standing over him. The brute had rolled onto his back in front of her, which very rarely did she see any male do - no matter what their state of being. But then Dakarai used the word that had drifted in the background of her mind - Love. His deep blue eyes stared back at her, gauging her reaction. The femme looked down at him, tail swaying in a sultry wag behind her.

Olive had happened upon quite a gentleman; she appreciated his refined nature and openness to her. This was most definitely not the wolf of her mother’s tales, meant to frighten her at night. Olive dropped her body to the grasses next to him and draped a leg over him.The mistress drew herself closer to him and lay her head among the fur on his chest; she found it even softer than the fur on his maw and it smelled strongly of Dakarai’s dizzying scent. “A strong bond, yes.” The druid murmured into him. 

“You sing the most honeyed songs to me… but do you speak the truth?” She raised her head from his chest, giving one of his forelegs a lick on her way up. It was not a harsh inquiry, but did hold a purpose. Olive had a fragile heart: one that freely soared towards the heavens but ached if it fell too fast. She confessed unto him. “I’m not entirely sure that I could handle the universe showing me such happiness, only to take it away.” She did not truly think the gentleman would disappear on her, but the the sun was quickly fading. She wondered what truths daylight would bring.