Ravensblood Forest oh, you are the roots that sleep beneath my feet and hold the earth in place [m]

Olive could no longer say that her introduction to Dakarai was the ultimate, most passionate moment of her life. That memory was quickly ousted, shoved from it’s throne, usurped by this very moment. Yes… that rang true. This feeling, this heat, could never be bested. The prince held her close as their very existence unwound around them. He was her shepherd over the rolling crescendos and energetic convulsions, shining a flashlight into the dark corners of consciousness. 

To experience such togetherness was to steal a glimpse of true Elysium. 

And slowly, soul returned to body. The intensity began to ebb, leaving the supple doe panting heavily in its wake. Her chest heaved from excitement, pressing her strong lungs into the earth underneath her. Olive felt so delicate beneath him, so enveloped and protected — and her mind had never been so clear before. 

Though Dakarai was her chaperone, it seemed that he was not immune to the intensity and electricity of their coupling. He was heavy on top of her, recuperating from his passions. They were tied together in a way that was most unexpected to the maiden [no longer], but she enjoyed it just the same. It was an interesting sensation, but her lover was gentle and kind and amorous and just a little bit brooding — and that was a cocktail that could placate even the most interesting of sensations.

He leaned down to breathe heavy words into her ear.  The honeyed sentiment sank heavily and lovely in her mind, with no other thoughts to dull its shine. Olive, who had entirely lost the ability to speak for several moments following their peak, summoned a murmur.

“But you… it took an entire galaxy being woven into one body to make you.”

Small and serene tears coalesced near the inner corner of her eyes and skated down her pale visage, wetting her cheeks. The tempest did not know why she cried; all she knew was that she suddenly felt all her strong emotions poking at her quite keenly, like the happiest of daggers. Her gentle tears were not of sadness nor regret, but of pure prosperity and sanctity. A wisp of a smile graced her lips, signaling to Dakarai that he should not worry.