>>5615407>>5615413>>5615448>>5615492>>5615598“You are slipping,” you address the succubus-turned-knight, slipping back into the True Speech of the Master Race for the first time in nearly a week. “I would have expected you to adopt a form more pleasing to my eye.”
Irinnile smiles a wicked little smile.
“You expected it, or you WANTED it?” the succubus teases, momentarily shifting the octave of her host’s voice to resemble the feminine pitch you associate with the unclean spirit animating Yosef. “Truth is, the longer we stay here, the more energy it takes ta’ keep Ricky under. Shiftin’ form and maintainin’ it takes a decent chunk a’ change, mana-wise, so unless you want ‘The green Knight’w akin’ up on the wrong side a’ the bed an’ raising a BIIIIG ol’ stink…”
“Understood,” you interrupt, getting the gist of it.
That is… A little troubling, though Irinnile seems unbothered. The demon wiggles the knight’s feet, crossing their legs at the ankles and cupping their masculine puppet’s face in his calloused warrior’s hands, awaiting the reason for your visit. Well, you suppose that if you will benefit from Irinnile’s aid, then time is of the essence, even more now than ever.
“My affliction—”
“Yoru whole ‘demigod m-preg thingie?”
“—AFFLICTION is troubling me,” you conclude, brute-forcing your way through the succubus’ teasing interjection. “Princess Ekaterine must be impregnated. But more than that… It is preferable that we control her. If she is to survive the birth of my offspring and to care for the child, we must ensure that the interests of the Master Race are maintained in its upbringing.”
“Ooo, so you want blondie all twisted up and evil?” the succubus coos, sitting up with sudden interest. “Kinky!”
“Not evil,” you correct the succubus. “We are not EVIL. That is a propagandistic lie by the false ‘gods’ of light, to justify the usurpation of our—”
“Yeeeeah, yeah yeah yeah yeah YEAH,” Irinnile groans. “I knoooow, okay?”
You narrow your eyes, a little annoyed at the demon’s sass—exacerbated by their form, that of the man Irinnile loves, the man who killed your mother and who has exposed and attacked your race. Irinnile seems to sense your irritation, and stands up, , taking your arm to their chest and stroking it soothingly. It is… Disconcerting, coming from Heinrich Ysoef’s flesh, to it at elast prevents any more pangs of stifled, spirit-troubling <appetite>.
“Well, how do you wanna’ do this?” Irinnile asks. “Th way I see it, ya’ got a couple options, but if ya’ wanna’ use ME ta’ do it, the best way’s a dream-delve.”
