>>5631385Bit late, anon, especially for a 1postID "+1"...>>5631325>>5630910>>5630892>>5630874>>5630870As you have all throughout his week, you resist the temptation to call upon Irinnile’s influence. Every iota of power spent on manipulating Princess Ekaterine, after all, must be paid back in kind. Every additional instant in the dubiously-intentioned demoness’ embrace risks corruption and subversion of yourself. And besides…
“I guess at least now it makes sense why I would imagine a ‘Dragonborn’ as being so warm,” Eka muses aloud, as she clings closer to you, burying her face in your shoulder with a happy sigh. “Or with such um… Well, with ANY hair, really!”
…Besides, you think you’re doing a fine job of influencing her all on your own… Right? You take some of your own advice, and simply enjoy the soothing sensation of Ekaterine’s affection until she fades away, back to the waking world. With a stretch and a yawn—and after having allowed Irinnile her minimal allotment of mana needed to maintain control of the Green Knight for another day—you join her in material reality.
“So, babycakes, you got yourself a hot date, huuuh~?”
You look over at Heinrich Yosef’s leering face, with Irinnile’s gleaming eyes peering intrusively from behind his own.
“You really shoulda’ let me warm her up for ya’,” she laments. “You could be plantin’ that seed TONIGHT, big boy!”
You shrug, satisfied with your own progress and confident in your won ability. Irinnile frowns slightly.
“Seriously, though, we gonna’ be done here anytime soon? Can’t think of a better time than, like, right NOW to do the deed an’ get outta’ dodge, ya’ know?”
You muse upon your options. It’s a possibility… But you’re not sure, not yet. You have managed to wield considerable influence here, in only a few weeks. You could still do more work. It’s probably better to stay in the city.
“Eka enjoyss exxploring other culturesss, and hass been sheltered. Even the sssuperficial ssampling of the exxxotic one might find in a local eatery should be more than enough to impresss her, yess?”
“But baaabe,” Irinnile whines, their overtly-masculine puppet of a body flopping with embarrassing brattiness upon your bed, “What about, like, your pops in the city, your buddy, that grumpy infiltrator chickee? What about your snake-girl back HOME?”
