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[center][color=chocolate][i]Meat. Meat. Meat. All Charlotte eats is meats.[/i][/color][/center]
Exasperated, a well-disguised Obsidian Slime sat at a dinning table of 99% meat -- specifically: a roasted pheasant in a bed of gravy, potatoes, and carrots;  a rack of lamb with sweet onion glaze; a rank of baby back ribs soaking in honey barbecue sauce; a hunk of ham with a honey glaze wrapped in brown sugar bacon; a stuffed fat Lasagna Alla Bolognese; and, two dozen Double-Deviled Deviled Eggs.

...and, 1% of C-3's Garden Salad with a lime vinaigrette.

A sigh escaped her, as she ate her modest meal and Charlotte consumed a small farm. For a bit, she entertained the idea of small talk, before surrendering the idea; there was nothing to discuss, except their relationship strain. As she pushed a bit of lettuce around, she thought about the trifle in the sewers, and the dust-up before that. Charlotte's emotional maturity was zero, or, at least, as advanced as an elementary schooler.

It was getting harder and harder to entertain her; even if she was her fondest treasure, it was emotionally draining to forgive and forget. Just once, she wanted to feel more than needed... wanted, perhaps. Desired. It wasn't a thought a Slime should have, but, C-3 wasn't a normal Slime – she was an Obsidian Slime given a name, a purpose, and a destiny. However, Charlotte seemed to see her as a weapon under the guise of a friend, and something to wield in her quest to clapback at her father.

As their dinner wrapped, C-3 decided to sleep off the issue, and retired to a bucket of all beddings; Charlotte's best effort, she conceded. Into her mind, she retreated, and soundly slept...

...sorta.
[hr]
[center]"[color=b9f2ff][i][b]Such wasteful emotion. Heiress mine, thou still wants, and yet, refuses to take. How hast thou gone so far under the wastrel waif that hath such a sickening hold of thee?[/b][/i][/color]"[/center]
[center]"[color=chocolate][i]All I can do is follow my emotions. Is that not your teachings?[/i][/color]"[/center]
[center]"[color=b9f2ff][i][b]Such bravery thou hath to speak so plainly. Thou art not mistaken, however. Such art mine teachings. And, thou hath followed them well. However...[/b][/i][/color]"[/center]
There was a pregnant pause. A stillness, wrought of doubt and question...

[center]"[color=b9f2ff][i][b]Thou shalt come to learn in time, shouldst thou survive the coming storm; mine Heiress's fragility in troubling waters shalt be put to the sword's test.[/b][/i][/color]"[/center]
C-3 knew better than to ask what that meant. No answer would come from her explosive liege. He spoke only in riddle and nuance. In her waking hours, she was meant to find the answers...
[hr]
As C-3 stirred, she heard Charlotte talking about the last dishes to their, supposedly, shared dinner, and bubbled a sigh. Pretending to sleep, she didn't want to deal with anything, in the least. However, Charlotte was carrying her like some common pail of water without emotion or thought; perhaps, in this way, that's all Charlotte did see her as -- her eyes ever set forward on her personal future. However, when Charlotte crashed into Valkira, C-3 used the momentum to slosh herself out the bucket, and splatter across the ground.

Forming a rudimentary body, the Obsidian Slime slorped off; leaving foot-plops of desiccated earth behind, as she devoured the ground of all valuable minerals and plant life.
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