<span style="font-weight: bold">Eowyn</span><br/><br/>“It'd be my pleasure kami-sama,” Eowyn smiles at Sakura, as the dragon-goddess 'tastes' her food... doubtless, they're delicious. “Although that one<span style="font-style: italic">was</span>going to be Alisa's,” she mentions.<br/><br/>The half-hypnotised pair quail a little, at that. “I guess we won't digest together after all,” one purrs, kissing her lover, softly, intimately.<br/><br/>“See you in the next life,” the other murmurs back, before kissing her again... and Eowyn's lips gently engulf<span style="font-style: italic">both</span>their heads. It doesn't slow them, pressing and squirming together more tightly, making intimate, pleased little sounds as Eowyn's lips make their way down their bodies... until the centauress's tongue rests between their bare, slick thighs, slowly licking and probing... The moans emanating from her throat tell their own story, that the girls are delicious, and that Eowyn's experienced tongue is more than talented.<br/><br/>With a wink to the watching Sakura, Eowyn slurps both sets of legs down, and gives a ladylike little burp. “Ahhh,” she sighs happily. “Alisa can always eat Xaria,” she explains, “and since the three of them [OOC: Ruby, Alisa and Miley] share one stomach, she might not even be digested.” [OOC: since Ruby and Miley will doubtless be having their own meals who will be digested]. Not that the thought of Xaria being digested seems to bother the centauress at all. “Oooh,” Eowyn groans, as her stomach begins to bulge, one of her two meals shifting in that soft, dangling hammock so the two lovers can make love as they're melted by Eowyn's juices...<br/><br/>“Oh!” Eowyn exclaims, as she spots something from her elevated vantage point in Sakura's arms. “They're back,” she wriggles, to be released. “Aiyaka's going to be<span style="font-style: italic">sooo</span>jealous I ate two girls and<span style="font-style: italic">neither</span>of them was her. Especially as I mean to digest them.” She pauses, poking at the ground with her hoof. “Not that I'm letting them out,” she says, a little defiantly – or defensively.