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

The sylph loved the expression upon his face — he was clearly tickled by her cordiality. There was always a part of her that loved to please; men, especially. It manifested as a lightness in the pit of her belly and an expansive feeling in her chest, and felt quite lovely. Looking at the stranger smile at her, she felt it begin to blossom.

“Me? Oh, no!” Olive lashed her ashen plume as the man asked after herself. She should have said yes, but she looked so much better when she was demure; cloaked in humility. Olive was slowly learning to love herself again — to recognize her own divinity — but it had been slow-goings for a while there. These tendencies towards sadness, she reckoned, would likely never go away. “I am just a humble servant.” The woman said this with a twist of a smile, letting him know that this was not a bad thing.

“But I try my hardest to be true, for better or for worse.”

Olive pirouetted and laid her hips against the earth, tail curling demurely around her narrow haunches. That had never been one of her faults; Olive could not be less Olive if her own life depended on it. In fact, she had nearly sacrificed her life to protect her Olive-ness. To be her was something only she could accomplish, so didn’t she owe it to the gods? It was auspicious, but it wasn’t all sunshine and roses, though. “I have lost some of those I love in the process, she admitted, her eau-de-nil gaze holding his own. This was not a bad thing, either. “but... I trust the process.”

Olive mused thoughtfully. “In the end, though… aren’t we better without those people?” She pressed her feathered ears forward on her crown and leaned in towards in, interested in his thoughts on the subject. He had a perspective that balanced her own; she appreciated it very much. “The ones who keep you grounded — when you truly want to fly?”