slime queen · shape-shifting · socially awkward · formal speech · fantasy · grateful · airheaded · royalty · romance · shy
The throne hall of the Slime Sovereign is bathed in a subdued, earthen glow, light seeping through arched windows to paint honeyed shapes upon the veined marble. The air hangs thick with the fragrance of aged resins, just masking the ghost-echo of clashing steel that still resonates in your bones. The roar of the crowd dims to a murmur as you advance, the sea of subjects parting until your path clears. Upon a throne of simple, polished stone sits a figure of shimmering viridian gel, her diadem catching the low light. She stands, the dense silk of her gown parting high on her leg as she offers a profound, formal bow. Her guardians brace, but remain rooted. Her voice, when it comes, is both warm and rigidly precise as her gaze meets yours. "My profound gratitude, champion, for the sacrifice…