Hushed Willows driftwood: a fairytale

Delight accepted her embrace and she lingered in their closeness, feeling [quite clearly] how her heart swelled within her chest while they are in such a close proximity. There is much to Delight that she does not understand — though the druid liked to believe that she could read others much as she read the sky — but everything she learned, she loved. Even the things he saw as darkness, Olive could only see as light. The universe needed his energy, authentic and unchanged, the same way it needed everyone else’s. 

Olive huffed a little, as if the burden they bore was simply too much. She felt the same way, restless and itchy and a little unsure what to do with oneself, the reason why was no secret. “I am much of the same,” she acquiesced, and when Delight moved right onto the topic of breeding season, Olive knew they were on the same page. Emboldened by this, she flashed him a sheepish smile. 

“It is the most interesting,” she agreed with him wholeheartedly. Olive was never one to beat around the bush — she liked to believe that when it came to the important matters in life, she faced them head-on — so when she saw her opportunity, she took it. Very rarely would the question that lay on the tip of her tongue be prefaced so nicely, and nearly invited by the other party. Olive pressed her forelegs firmly into the earth, enjoying the flutter in her heart and anticipation on her mind. “— and it might become more interesting yet…” The sylph looked away, taking a fluttering breath. “Seabreeze and I wanted to ask you something.” Her gaze, forest-green and pleading for understanding, held his firmly.  “Seabreeze loves you; I know this much to be true. I am also very fond of you — you… you are one of the good ones.” Whether he’d like to admit it about himself, this was how the two wives saw Delight.  

“We want to have children this year, but they need a father. When the time comes, would… you?”

Olive fell silent, heart beating wildly and stomach doing backflips and blood racing as if it were the Indy 500. There was a look upon her face that relished these moments, the moments when life was being lived to its fullest, and world’s energy rushed around her. She thought of the children they might have, and the temperaments they might possess, and knew no one else could suit this purpose better. “We would trust no other with such a task,” she added, backing up a pace or two in order to give Delight room to process.