Hear Her Out

There is a moment of quiet, then the Cerulean Maven swallows. She turns her head to steal a fleeting glance at you, her fidgeting fingers probing the toy. ”I,” she says, her voice uncertain. ”I have been writing an invocation. My own ritual. An experiment, really.” Her breath quickens and her hand has moved on, lower between her legs. ”I need,” she swallows, ”the seed of the Sea. Your seed. Please!”