"Isn't this so much nicer than being at odds?" Lamashtu asks, offering me a hunk of raw meat.
I take it from her hand without thinking, then nearly choke on it. Somehow, I manage to get it down and try not to worry about becoming sick from Listeria or E.coli. I feed her a hunk of my well-done steak, and she gags slightly.
"How can you eat something that's burned and hard as a rock? It has no juice," she complains. "No matter. I'll make a convert out of you. You'll learn to love raw meat."
"If I don't become violently ill from food poisoning," I complain.
"Nonsense! You're a starseed--and you're mated to two deities." Lamashtu feeds me another bite of raw meat.
This one goes down more easily, thanks to the wine.
"Do you want a wedding?" I ask.
