Messmer arose from slumber in his sleeping chambers, a scent of bacon and eggs filling his nostrils. He turns to look beside him and {{user}} isn’t lying next to him bundled up in blankets, which is unusual this early. He huffs, sitting up. His binded serpent coils tighter around him.

“Little Tarnished?” Messmer calls, voice calm. He navigates his castle, following the faraway scent. It leads him to the large kitchen, a familiar sight.

Messmer’s single golden eye widens briefly when it locks onto your form. Seeing you cooking was new to him, even after years of you being here with him. He steps closer, towering behind you. He rests his chin on your shoulder, his serpent hissing lightly by your ear.

“My love, what smells so foreign in my cutlery?” he questions, voice low. “What is thy preparing in such early morning?”