<span style="font-weight: bold">Ambrosia</span><br/><br/>“I’m… I’m sorry,” Ambrosia blushes. “Maybe I<span style="font-style: italic">am</span>overstimulated. It was just such a<span style="font-style: italic">wonderful</span>night,” she says, “you really ought to consider letting her devour you,” she tells the dryad dreamily, “her inside is just divine… Oh,” she blurts, “and I repay you by hurting your throat. I really am sorry,” she continues. “May I kiss it better?”<br/><br/>“I’m sorry I frightened you and your friend, too,” Ambrosia continues, awaiting permission to gently neck Eiyre’s throat, and soothe the ache she’s caused within it. “I thought you were cultists - and breakfast. Do you think your friend will come back if I promise not to eat her? And that I won’t let any of my friends eat her either? I’d like to make it up to her too. Maybe she’d like a bark-rub? Or I expect they’ll soon be plenty of cultists to share, and I don’t suppose she’s had breakfast either…” Ambrosia smiles. “If you can summon her back without alerting the cult.”