Moonspear lawmother

Her cheeks burned; she understood now what was meant by First Rite and her heart fluttered. She blinked several times, as if trying to rewrite the ethics she had been raised to know. It made sense now, why Chakliux was so freely warm toward her- this might be a place where shame did not follow those who succumbed to their physical desires. She had sequestered those urges for so long, having learned that it would be improper for her to adventure with another into those experiences without being united in marriage- and it seemed that she might not have to endure those restraints much longer. 

"I want to know the touch of a man," She admitted, her heart thundering within her chest. Perhaps it was foolish of her to want something the moment it was declared proper, but she had also suffered what it had felt like to turn her back on temptation for the sake of her reputation. "...But must I let someone else choose who it is?" She asked. Quickly, she added "I will, if it must be so-" she was willing to follow their customs, to be a willow dipping its supple limbs into a river and allow them to be bent in its direction. But with the abrupt admission came the implication of something else; the desire to choose, if it was allowed.