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

That was all she needed to hear in order to melt into a puddle, right then and there. The milky nymph swooned deeply at his words. Yet again, Dakarai seemed to read her mind and bore her deepest wants and desires into reality, desires she never even knew she had. Their courtship had been the impetus for so many new emotions; one of them being a libertine itch for motherhood. Olive nearly committed herself to a life without babies, focused solely on scholarship and wanderlust; but caution had long since been thrown to the wind. The ingenue wanted to have his babies. She wanted them bad.

This was, quite honestly, something that crossed Olive’s smitten mind often — and she too, could imagine her children playfully traipsing among the tall, sweet grasses of summer [and no other season]. The woman buried her excited expression in the spun silk of his pelt, unable to fully handle the unabated mirth the she felt. “Oh Dakarai,” she breathed. “If I could, I would conceive your children this very moment.” 

Olive placed a creamy paw against the corsair’s shoulder and attempted to roll him on his back. If he would let her… she might as well try her luck anyways. Couldn’t hurt, right?