Quoted By:
"You hid this fantasy fairly deep, Fhor, daughter of Marik. Do you find it shameful?" Hijon spoke, but it was the dryad's voice that left her lips. "I almost missed it while delving into your mind." She was right, you always pushed down this yearning. "Can you tell me why this blonde shaman is here cradled against you? Isn't this man the one you want?" Your thoughts were scrambled and disjointed, and you could barely manage more than a whimper. "I want Hijon...to see Galrick and me like this."
"Is that so?" She giggled, running her fingers through your hair. "And what fuels this? Jealousy? Hate?"
"...Yes, I-" you whispered, trembling. "I...hate you, Hijon." Your grip tightened around him as you expressed this, finally accepting this facet of your desire, turning it into an irremovable cog of your psyche. "I hate you! I hate- Agh!" Your gaze was locked with Hijon's as you kept repeating this through your panting, over and over again.
