Herbalists' Cache fever to the form

It had worked! The kitten purred with delight as the stranger drifted closer and made his bed beside her, allowing their forms to touch and pale pelts intermingle. Oh! Her clear mind all but thrown out the window, the heated fae could not pull herself from her stupor to ponder the reasons why she did these things — after all, these things [such as laying supine, whining instead of speaking, or entertaining the affections of a strange man] came almost as naturally as did eating, or sleeping. She was almost unaware of the telltale perfume she wore, or the effect it would have on any male nearby, so drunk upon herself was she! Only a moment longer was spent writhing upon the ground, her body itching with perpetual restlessness, before Olive righted herself beside him, flipping to her stomach and clawing at the ground in a sphinx-like position.

Without asking for permission, the feisty shewolf began to preen the man’s pretty, pretty fur; for nothing else made more sense at the moment! Nibbling through the tendrils with the tips on her teeth and smoothing it with her velveteen tongue, her tail curiously traced the outline of his back, tail and haunches — the intent was to tickle, to launch her attack on more than one front, and as she squirmed about Olive broke into a fit of bubbling laughter, stemming purely from the anticipation of his own. Unable to stay still, she clamored atop her unsteady limbs. “Oh, do tell!” she cried as she did so. “Tell me, please! Tell me...” Olive beseeched him, honestly and eagerly. There could be no underestimating how strongly she felt towards this particular male, at this particular moment. If asked, Olive might claim that she loved this stranger more than she had ever loved Dakarai. It was nonsense, but she’d stake her life on it.

“Pray tell...”She couldn't really find the right words to express what she wanted to say, so she sashayed in front of him without a drop of hesitation and tickled his inkdark nose with the silken feathering of her plume. “…Do you like my tail?” the sylph asked, voice dangerously low, looking over her narrow shoulder to bat her eyelashes at the man coquettishly. Please, she dreamed feverishly, head spinning. I love you.