She'd prepared herself for this for weeks, eating only the
fruits of a small, strange tree native to Greece. With a few
modifications, the 'olives' become quite beautiful, but
even for *her* -- well, her digestive system will be glad
when this is over.
For now, a taste of her breath had worked quite nicely
for this so-called queen, and her palace is full of
beautiful, powerful, *obedient* women. There are
Hippolyta nuzzles the arch of Ivy's foot with the flat of
her strangely, wrongly young cheek. Her tongue is
wet and strong on Ivy's calf.
Ivy can live with the trade-offs.