#olivio

It’s not just for Theodora. There is a tide that pushes and pulls within her, beckoning her to dive into the waters and scour the bottom of the sea. There is a world within you, it says, and you have yet to discover it. Its song grows louder as the number of knocks on her heart grow: people disappoint her, people abandon her, people surprise her, people turn away from her, people die because of her. She has been running for so long, and her feet are worn out from the pavement. It is time to face the waves, let it drown her or rebirth her. 

But it’s easier to make the decision to change, than to actually change. The scent of warm cookies and vanilla clings to her, the sticky sweetness of her love and affection hangs on every word. She can’t run from it, can’t pretend she is made of anything but rose petals and love letters, poems and sonnets and ballads.

Enter: Olivio. He’s technically beneath her rank, though Maeve feels small in his presence. She likes him; she hopes he will stick around. His willingness to answer every tedious, minuscule question endeared him to her; at one point, she began asking every ridiculous question she could think of to see his reaction, and his patience proved she was right to take a liking to him after all. 

This party is the perfect way to get her first lead to accomplish Theodora’s task. New clientele, each of them around her age and ready to experiment with drugs, wait for her inside — it’s the closest thing to a golden ticket Maeve has. And still, a bundle of nerves flutter inside her stomach. Maeve wraps her arms around her torso as she stares at the entrance. “Okay, so... I guess I’ll go in and start talking to people, and you watch from the sidelines until I find someone who’s interested?” She pats her back pocket to check that her phone is in there. “And text me if someone starts to look suspicious.”