Chapter 5 Page 11 - The Marshmallow Throne was build Mati and two lamias chapter 59 by The Reaper

The garage had been transformed into a makeshift fabrication studio, smelling of ozone, industrial adhesive, and the faint, sweet scent of the vanilla-infused heating elements. Mati worked with a level of precision that bordered on obsession, his brow furrowed as he hand-stitched the iridescent pearl-white velvet over the memory foam. He used a heavy-duty walking foot on his sewing machine to ensure the seams could withstand the weight and movement of a growing lamia, his fingers occasionally brushing against the fabric that shimmered like a captured nebula.

Emily was his constant, buzzing shadow, providing "moral support" by occasionally bringing him a glass of water or simply resting her chin on his shoulder to watch the progress. She watched with rapt attention as he wired the "Button of Happiness," a custom-programmed microcontroller that triggered a soft, ethereal chime and a gentle pulse of warm light from the base. To her, it wasn't just electronics; it was magic, and Mati was the sorcerer making it real.

The assembly of the frame was a coordinated effort. Whenever a piece of the reinforced steel needed to be held at a precise angle for bolting, Emilia stepped in, her massive red coils providing a living vice that held the structure immovable. Her strength was the perfect complement to Mati's technical finesse, their movements falling into a silent, rhythmic synchronization. They worked late into the evening, the garage illuminated by the harsh glow of work lamps and the soft, iridescent glimmer of the fabric.

The final touch was the installation of the "nest"—a deep, plush depression lined with the shimmering velvet and high-density foam, designed to cradle a lamia's lower body without restricting movement. Mati spent an hour fine-tuning the lumbar support, ensuring the angle was perfect for a child who loved to curl up and read or play games. As he tightened the last bolt and smoothed out a stray thread of velvet, he stepped back, his red shirt stained with grease and sweat, but his eyes shining with pride.

He gestured toward the finished piece: the Marshmallow Throne. It was a masterpiece of whimsical engineering, glowing with a soft, internal light that made the iridescent fabric shimmer like a cloud at dawn. Emily let out a tiny, strangled gasp of awe, her blue eyes wide as she looked at the sanctuary created just for her. She didn't wait for an invitation, gliding forward to sink into the plush, vanilla-scented warmth of her new home with a joyful squeal that echoed through the garage.