>>6098775>>6098856>>6098882>>6099098>>6099106https://files.catbox.moe/sml7qz.mp3You wrestled with the confines of the tight space, the bulkiness of your armour making it hard to avoid accidentally touching Miranna. Your gauntlet struck her elbow, then pressed against her arm. She didn’t budge, as if not noticing your touch.
“If you’re offering,” you said, shifting your arm to set it atop of the shelf, it fitting firmly onto the featureless, dust-laden stone. “Though, please, not too hot. I’m a human, not a demon. I don’t know much our stomachs differ.”
Pressing her wrist against the iron of your chin, the she-demon nudged your helmet just enough to unconceal your lips, the flame from her nail hovering intimately close, heating the metal skull. With your visor lifted, you could only see what was below your nose: her clawed palm and the melted cheese on it.
“Fear not, hero, I know the perfect meltiness to have it at,” she assured, holding the cheese close to your lips. “It shan’t burn.”
The warmed wedge bubbled over the scarlet casing, embedded specks within crackling and sizzling through the churning amber layer. You opened your mouth to bite a chunk of it, the rich and creamy substance flowing as smooth and effortless as water.
You sensed a sharp tang, a vivid blend of hot spices and unknown demonic ingredients heating your veins and stirring your mind, as well as cleansing your mind. As worry took hold, the stronger warmth eased and cooled. Cold wasn’t a bother, but with it gone entirely, you felt well rested, even unpleasantly so; your warmed blood plead for action.
Miranna chuckled, licking the remnants of the cheese from her palm. “Seems you weren’t too put off by it, hero.”
Feeling hot in the armour, you asked. “Is there magic in it?”
“It just cheese,” she said, sounding almost amused.
You wiggled your arm again to grasp the helmet’s edge and lift it off, seeing Miranna at inch-closeness without the visor obstructing more than half of her. Her amber glow bather her pale features, her glowing eyes and ruby freckles reflecting the fire like sparks in a forge left lantern-less.
You were -too- close. You leaned your head to give yourself space. You face reddened, likely from the Hellbeckon’s effect.
“Whose storeroom is this?” you asked, avoiding her gaze.
Miranna reached for another wedge of cheese, her breastplate barely missing your face by the inches you just made as she moved.
“One of the imps repurposed this unused space,” she said. “They aren’t favoured enough for everyday meals, but now and then, everyone likes a bit of cheese now and then.” She paused, waving the wedge like a crosier. “You want to try one the King likes?”
