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Description
It starts with a large chunk of bloody meat, and a clean rag over the workplace to put it on. Take a moderately sized cleaver composed of titanium, and cut the chunk into thick slices. Mind your fingers while doing it, snow fiend blood is highly intoxicating even to the everyday Wendigan demon. Place slices on a sturdy grill and cook over a open fire, preferably with brimstone.

Serves family of three, can be eaten hot and cold.

Isabeth was not a great cook, but that did not matter so long as the meat turned out good and uninfected. Good meat gives more strength. As she placed another chunk of bloody meat onto the rag she tried to look over her bosom to see where she was cutting, the amount of times she had cut herself because of her large bust were numerous. One of few cons of having a child, but at least it made the task of getting her husband out from work much easier.

Speaking of children, Isabeth could hear the heavy stomping as her daughter made her way into the kitchen. Her relationship with Deima was fine, she was her daughter after all, but the whole servitude to that halfbreed overlord and her life of crime was something she did not approve of. In a lot of ways Deima was like Isabeth, the healthy figure, the scarred stone-cold face, and the deathly stare she gave, it was something to be proud of as a mother.

"Hey, mother." She spoke with the friendly tone of an angry bear. Isabeth simply gave a small smile at her as she continued with her chopping.

"If it isn't my own daughter coming to visit! How is your girlfriend?" Deima huffed and rolled her eyes, ever since she became bodyguard for Overlord Augus her mother had teased her about having an intimate relationship with such a overlord, which was completely false. Bodyguards don't fuck their bosses.

"For last time, she is not my girlfriend. She is my overlord." She retorted, Isabeth simply raised an eyebrow, she knew a lie when she heard one.

"Sure. I take it you saw me with that bloody sack and now you want a piece of this, да?" Deima crossed her arms against her chest and nodded.

"I would like piece of that да, I am sick of eating human food and I want change."

"Is it the people's food, to be shared equally, so of course." Isabeth offered a small bag of snow fiend meat in front of her daughter, to which she promptly grabbed. She sighed to herself.

"Ugh, you do realise that ideology died out years ago?"

"So you do not want food?" Isabeth grabbed the bag back, dragging her daughter along with it. Deima stifled a blush, for her head was pressed against her mother's bountiful bosom. She regained composure from the shock and snatched the bag from Isabeth again, wiping the small bloody stain on her trouser leg.

"That is not what I meant mother, now if you will be so kind I am going to cook some supper myself." Deima started to walk off, before being stopped by the shout of her mother. She looked back to see her mother holding her arms up in the air as if looking for an embrace.

"Hey, where is the affection from my daughter? It took great strength to get all of this." Deima's mouth curled up into a faint smile, it was a challenge she couldn't pass up.

"Oh what the hell, come here." Deima turned back and grabbed Isabeth's hand. Now some people express affection with a hand-shake or a hug, the Wendigan way of expressing affection is to simply smash their skulls into each other. The both of them cracked heads together with a force that could send tanks reeling back miles away, the both of them briefly roared out laughter before Isabeth returned to finish the rest of her vicious cooking. And Deima returned back to where she came from, her hips swaying in the air as she went.

How she grows up so fast, Isabeth thought to herself.

---

Isabeth prepares her meal and encounters her daughter as well, a little slice of life into how these two interact with each other. Really love how I did Isabeth here, and it's totally not to do with her bust iguaranteeimserious

Description
It starts with a large chunk of bloody meat, and a clean rag over the workplace to put it on. Take a moderately sized cleaver composed of titanium, and cut the chunk into thick slices. Mind your fingers while doing it, snow fiend blood is highly intoxicating even to the everyday Wendigan demon. Place slices on a sturdy grill and cook over a open fire, preferably with brimstone.

Serves family of three, can be eaten hot and cold.

Isabeth was not a great cook, but that did not matter so long as the meat turned out good and uninfected. Good meat gives more strength. As she placed another chunk of bloody meat onto the rag she tried to look over her bosom to see where she was cutting, the amount of times she had cut herself because of her large bust were numerous. One of few cons of having a child, but at least it made the task of getting her husband out from work much easier.

Speaking of children, Isabeth could hear the heavy stomping as her daughter made her way into the kitchen. Her relationship with Deima was fine, she was her daughter after all, but the whole servitude to that halfbreed overlord and her life of crime was something she did not approve of. In a lot of ways Deima was like Isabeth, the healthy figure, the scarred stone-cold face, and the deathly stare she gave, it was something to be proud of as a mother.

"Hey, mother." She spoke with the friendly tone of an angry bear. Isabeth simply gave a small smile at her as she continued with her chopping.

"If it isn't my own daughter coming to visit! How is your girlfriend?" Deima huffed and rolled her eyes, ever since she became bodyguard for Overlord Augus her mother had teased her about having an intimate relationship with such a overlord, which was completely false. Bodyguards don't fuck their bosses.

"For last time, she is not my girlfriend. She is my overlord." She retorted, Isabeth simply raised an eyebrow, she knew a lie when she heard one.

"Sure. I take it you saw me with that bloody sack and now you want a piece of this, да?" Deima crossed her arms against her chest and nodded.

"I would like piece of that да, I am sick of eating human food and I want change."

"Is it the people's food, to be shared equally, so of course." Isabeth offered a small bag of snow fiend meat in front of her daughter, to which she promptly grabbed. She sighed to herself.

"Ugh, you do realise that ideology died out years ago?"

"So you do not want food?" Isabeth grabbed the bag back, dragging her daughter along with it. Deima stifled a blush, for her head was pressed against her mother's bountiful bosom. She regained composure from the shock and snatched the bag from Isabeth again, wiping the small bloody stain on her trouser leg.

"That is not what I meant mother, now if you will be so kind I am going to cook some supper myself." Deima started to walk off, before being stopped by the shout of her mother. She looked back to see her mother holding her arms up in the air as if looking for an embrace.

"Hey, where is the affection from my daughter? It took great strength to get all of this." Deima's mouth curled up into a faint smile, it was a challenge she couldn't pass up.

"Oh what the hell, come here." Deima turned back and grabbed Isabeth's hand. Now some people express affection with a hand-shake or a hug, the Wendigan way of expressing affection is to simply smash their skulls into each other. The both of them cracked heads together with a force that could send tanks reeling back miles away, the both of them briefly roared out laughter before Isabeth returned to finish the rest of her vicious cooking. And Deima returned back to where she came from, her hips swaying in the air as she went.

How she grows up so fast, Isabeth thought to herself.

---

Isabeth prepares her meal and encounters her daughter as well, a little slice of life into how these two interact with each other. Really love how I did Isabeth here, and it's totally not to do with her bust iguaranteeimserious