Sunspire Mountains all the butterflies have turned to vultures in my stomach

he scuttled away from her advance like a crab plucked from the sand. esm's features smouldered into an expression of fulfilled expectations. a smirk quirked her lips. "o, he's only just a soft maiden," she whispered treacly sweet, maintaining her place while riley fumbled with his words not unlike hands with car keys in a dark and dodgy carpark. he revealed his regard for her and she scoffed, a calf-love a day old. 

as she weighed the pros and cons of the various and creative means available to her for dispatching this troublesome situation, with hands clasped professionally against her lap she watched him and considered. esme's face was affectless, an unreadable passage of hieroglyphs.

"i don't want it,"
"just open your mouth and taste a little, it's sweet,"
"no, it makes me sleepy, i don't want it,"
"drink it, you little—"

"the gentle sylph won't even fuck the woman he likes, mm," fire licked her throat, a hearth of sultry flames burning against the calluses coarsened from the constant scorching. 

"and the woman he likes can't very well live with someone who can't meet her needs." she said dolorously, tilting her head down to search for his gaze. no?

"i've changed my mind, this walk is taking too long. i am leaving." she lashed her plume and started back in the direction they came.