The Spiral House had hundreds upon hundreds of floors and layers, spanning deep and far into the sand beneath and far into the clouded skies above.
It was gigantic and mysterious in a way Uriel couldn’t comprehend.
Why did it exist? What was its purpose? What was Mariah’s existence? Was she human? Why was such a grand construct so barren and dilapidated on the inside?
Uriel didn’t know, and in fact, didn’t care.
No, his mind was elsewhere.
One of the empty floors of the Spiral House had been entirely remodelled; the old and dusty wooden floors covered by thick crimson Arabian rugs with accents of gold, and the boring old stone walls painted a dark silver.
From the ceiling, a lamp hung, bleeding with warm orange light, reflected off a curved roof that bounded the light toward the ceiling before slowly spreading it across the room, filling it with ambient warmth.
In the centre, a low table of white marble could be seen, high enough to reach a grown adult’s belly button while sitting cross-legged, while a handful of thick sitting cushions were spread across it.
The room slled good, the scent floral and fresh, and upon one of the cushions Mariah sat, her arms folded and expression serious.
Though she found what was happening strange, she took it as seriously as Uriel did.
"He should be back soon."
For the last couple of hours, Uriel had been making her taste dish after dish, asking her to rate each one as honestly as possible across dozens of different criteria and classifications.
He took every single bit of criticism with studious attention, almost begging for her to hate it and for it to be imperfect so that he could rush back to the kitchen and try to improve once more.
He changed sauces, at cuts, cooking thods, presentation, and even tried to get experintal with the blends of spices and oils.
He was dedicated.
"If he put this dedication into sothing useful, he’d be terrifying, I fear," she offhandedly thought.
But then she chuckled and shook her head.
To imply what Uriel had been cooking was "useless" would be idiotic in a way that was hard to describe.
It had to be rembered that the very foundation of all dishes he prepared was the void mound tonic, as he had decided to call it.
And the void mound tonic was a concentrated mix of laws, primordial forces, and space-ti... what Uriel was doing was shocking.
"I wonder what the Alchemists from the Halls would think if they heard of this. A mortal forging Law-Bound naturalised elixirs and sohow making them digestible..."
She sighed.
"Who knows."
TOH! TOH! TOH!
She heard footsteps and her back straightened, all thought fading from her mind as she seamlessly slipped into the cold and strict role she had been assigned.
A frigid mantle of aura erged around her, her sharp and icy gaze landing on Uriel’s rapidly approaching figure with as much apathy as disdain.
Uriel wore a three-piece suit, entirely white, fitting him almost too perfectly, his hair slicked back in an old-fashioned and elegant manner.
Silver gloves fitted over his hands, and upon the tips of his left hand’s fingers he carried a plate covered by a tallic do, his other arm clasped behind his back.
The little fox trailed not far behind, curiously following the scene.
"..."
Uriel’s expression was blank and apathetic, and his presence reeked of what could only be called precision.
"Mariah."
Uriel reached the table.
Then he lowered himself slightly and gently placed the plate in front of Mariah. As soon as he did so, from thin air, cutlery appeared, neatly arranged around the plate.
He stood straight, then waved a hand—in his left hand a wine glass appeared, and in his right an opened bottle of dark glass materialised.
"May I?" he asked.
She nodded.
"You may."
He nodded back, then slowly poured her a glass. The liquid was a bright and deep crimson, the fernted and fruity sll potent and thick, rich beyond words.
"Here you go."
Uriel placed the glass down.
Then he turned, bending down to pick up the little fox and place him onto his head once more.
And then...he began to walk away.
Mariah watched it unfold with slightly widened eyes.
This was the first ti Uriel had left without watching her eat or asking any questions. In fact, now that she paid closer attention, it was the first ti he had co upstairs while lacking the manic spark that usually burned in the depths of his eyes.
He was calm. Too calm.
Her gaze imperceptibly narrowed and she turned to her covered plate. Without waiting, she removed the do-like tal cover.
And...
"Hm. Yeah, it looks normal."
...it was simple.
The white plate held a large bed of dark burgundy Madeira sauce, upon which three slices of beef wellington were neatly placed in a fan-like pattern.
On the side, countering the fan shape of the slices, was a spread spoonful of potato puree, rich and steaming, very lightly sprinkled with finely cut chives.
"Alright."
The al looked entirely normal, nothing like the experintal horrors he had presented to her earlier, and it looked good.
It looked good, but simple.
"Oh well, maybe he’s done for today and will continue tomorrow. I don’t bla him."
She picked up her cutlery, instantly digging in. She cut a piece of the sliced beef wellington, scooping a decent amount of sauce, then using her knife to lather it with a bit of puree.
Her fork slowly moved across the air, reaching her mouth.
She bit down.
Then pulled.
And thus began chewing.
And then—
...
Uriel had already left.
He made his way up toward his room, ignoring the loud erotic moans that suddenly thundered across the Spiral House.
[Evolutionary Quest has been completed!]
The Spiral House began to violently tremble, a chaotic surge of energy sweeping across all floors.
Still, Uriel ignored it.
He reached his room, undressing, then putting on a very light dark grey tunic set as smooth as silk, perfect for sleep.
Then—
[Rewards will be placed in Abode Mark!]
—he went to sleep.
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