Arrow Lake i want a boy who’s so drunk he doesn’t talk

The stranger did not seem as interested in the moon, or the lack thereof, as she was. In fact, few people ever were — many entertained a decent wonder in regards to the heavens, but it rarely escalated to fanaticism as it did for the ash and cream druid. Not that Olive ever regretted it, even in throes of her deepest sorrows and most awful punishments. The gods dealt their karma no matter is she were aware of it or now, as they did to everyone. At least, as the moon gods’ disciple, she had a chance to bargain against her misfortunes.

But still, Olive could not help but appear crestfallen when he did not make comment or further engage her on the subject. Instead, he asked towards her friends and family, which was not an unfeasible transition given her last statement. This was one of her least favorite subject [but also, somehow, her favorite] and she knew she could not get out of answering his question truthfully. 

Olive spoke softly, with an air of solemn earnestness that had become characteristic of her. “I do…” she conceded, voice trailing off and gaze meeting Birk’s own.“but, they are all… absent, right now.” Okay, okay, it was a small fib — but did this stranger deserve to know her story when he did not even know her name? If he did not care for the moon, would he even care for her auld lang syne? A quirk of her brow silently asked what about you? though, she admitted to herself, she would be jealous if it turned out he had both friends and family. Lucky bastard.

She quickly moved on. “Oh, so, does the moon not impress you?” the lamb questioned playfully, squinted her eyes at him and wiggling her nose. “Well, what does impress you?”