Birthday Supplications

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[Today's my birthday, so we get another entry about my demonic alter-ego! Noreel and Lesley were previously seen here and (sort of) here.]

“PRESENT YOUR TRIBUTE, FOOLISH MORTALS, AND PRAY THAT I DEEM IT WORTHY!”
There was an awkward silence as the assembled cultists looked at each other. Reluctant to be the first.
Then Dan stepped forward, held up the boxes she was holding, and said “Well, um, I brought party hats…”
“OOH, GIMMIE!”
Everyone relaxed marginally. Off to a good start.
“I WANT A PURPLE ONE.”
“Right. Uh, do you want purple with golden stars or purple with silver stripes?”
“WHAT RIDICULOUS QUESTION IS THAT?? GIVE ME BOTH, WRETCH!”
“Of course, o liege.”
Few entities could look intimidating with two supermarket paper party hats strapped haphazardly to their bulbous head, but the Demon Liege Noreel had the right kind of, ah, singular aplomb to pull the look off.
The non-purple party hats were passed out amongst the rest of the cult, who then had to decide whether to try wearing it over their dramatic hoods or let the hood down. Various approaches were tried. It was debatable whether any of them could be called ‘successful’. At least the result was unmistakably celebratory.
“STEP FORWARD AND BE JUDGED!”
More silence. More shuffling.
Louis held up the large, flat box he was holding, which unlike the hats had been gift wrapped, in that slightly lopsided way which showed it was done with love. Or at least inept enthusiasm. “I, er, Officiant Lesley said it was your idea for Carl to approach me with that welcome basket, and, um, I just wanted to say the cult’s been wonderful, so glad I found you all, and since, er, Lesley reckoned you don’t have slippers of your own, I thought…”
The demon’s smouldering eyes were narrowed in a way which could mean it was displeased by this offering, or could mean it was trying to remember this chain of events, or could mean it was wondering how Lesley knew whether it owned slippers.
A host of spindly limbs plucked the gift from Louis’s trembling hands and ripped the paper to shreds. Three slippers were turned this way and that for inspection.
“I-it’s genuine sheepskin.” Louis wrung his hands with an earnest, anxious grin. “I would’ve asked them to, y’know, sacrifice the sheep in your name, but Lesley reckoned that wouldn’t fit with the cult’s, um, low-profile approach and all…”
“HOW DID YOU KNOW MY SIZE??”
Louis blankly pointed at Lesley, who said “I read your whole book, not just the summoning ritual.”
Noreel’s eyes squinched further. “AH. YES. THE BOOK. NATURALLY I RECALL ALL THE INFORMATION LURKING WITHIN ITS UNNATURAL PAGES.”
“Well, yeah. I mean, it’s all about you.”
“AS IT SHOULD BE!” Noreel turned back to the slippers.
Louis brightened up as his tribute was tried on, then beamed as - after pensive stomping - Noreel declared “THIS FLUFFY FOOTWEAR IS WORTHY OF YOUR LIEGE! THEY ARE LIKE WALKING UPON CLOUDS MADE OF CORPSES!”
“I’ll be sure to leave a positive review in your name.” Lesley assured them, then waved forward the next supplicant.