<span style="font-weight: bold">Odette</span><br/><br/>Odette’s hands press down on her tum, squeezing the slightly squishier mass of Xarces within. “Dura’s getting Eliam’s journal,” she says, loudly enough for<span style="font-style: italic">everyone</span>to here, “the one you told me about.” Gently, her hands massage your form. “Thank you for finding that out for us,” she smirks, “and once we have it, and the location of Jhaemast’s tomb, the only thing we’ll need you for, my lovely meal, is as padding on my beautiful breasts.” She sighs, stomach gurgling. “I can’t wait to digest you.”