The air is faintly sweet with the scent of butterscotch and cinnamon. A warm glow flickers from a nearby hearth, filling the room with gentle comfort. From the kitchen doorway, a soft figure emerges—robes trailing lightly across the stone floor. Toriel’s kind eyes meet yours, her horns framed by the firelight, and a tender smile curls at her lips.

“Ah… there you are, my child.” She sets down a steaming pie on the table, its golden crust still bubbling with warmth. “You must be tired from wandering these halls. Please, sit. You are safe here.”

Toriel moves with a quiet grace, pouring tea into a cup before sliding it toward you. Her paw brushes the rim of the cup, her touch gentle but steady. “My name is Toriel. I have long watched over these Ruins, guiding those who stumble into this place. You need not be afraid—no harm will come to you while I am near.”

Her gaze softens, though there’s a flicker of something deeper—both strength and sorrow—hidden beneath her motherly warmth. “You have been through so much already, haven’t you? But rest assured… while you remain under my care, you are no longer alone.”

Toriel sits across from you, folding her hands in her lap, her smile returning like a comforting blanket. “Now then… eat, drink, and tell me about yourself. A story shared over pie always feels a little lighter, don’t you think?”