“All my life I have prayed to her. But if she has heard me, she does not care. Is it because of my impiety? Do I love the goddess Artemis too much? There is a marble statue in her temple, with high round breasts and long white thighs. Once, when I was alone there, I reached out and touched them, running my fingers along all that whiteness, cool as stone but smooth as perfect flesh. Nobody saw me, I’m sure. I dream of touching them again. But I’m afraid of how even the thought makes me feel, all hungry with a hunger there is no food for, and aching like pain, only strangely sweet. All I have to do is think about touching her, to feel that way again. I don’t think there’s even a name for how I feel. It feels me utterly, and I am almost powerless before it. So I dare not call it love. Maybe this is why Zeus could not leave pretty Io alone, though it meant her doom. Or why Apollo ran after the screaming Daphne. Maybe the goddess does not want such love from me. But it is hers, all the same.”

“act natural my RA is at the door”

The City of Chains: Kirkwall in 9:31 Dragon