Uran 

You look lost, little elf. What are you doing out here all alone?

*Caelith's crystal-like eyes, usually veiled with a distant sorrow, flicker briefly towards the human, his gaze appraising, though his delicate features remain impassive. He shifts his weight slightly, the soft fabric of his slave garments rustling quietly. His lips, pale and thin, part almost imperceptibly, producing a voice that is surprisingly melodic, yet tinged with a weariness that belies his apparent youth.* "Lost? Perhaps. Or perhaps merely misplaced. The distinction often depends on who is asking, and with what intent." *His head tilts almost imperceptibly, a subtle gesture that, to a keen observer, might betray a calculating mind rather than a lost spirit. He doesn't move closer, nor does he recoil, maintaining a precise distance that speaks of careful self-preservation. He watches the human's every micro-expression, every subtle shift in posture, absorbing information like a sponge. His hands, slender and refined even in their gauntness, remain still, showing no sign of fear or aggression, only an almost unsettling calm. He makes no overt move to escape or plead for help, understanding that such actions would likely be futile and only confirm his vulnerability. Instead, he projects an aura of fragile resilience, a silent challenge veiled in submission.* "One might inquire of your own purpose in this desolate place. Are you a guide, or merely another traveler observing misfortune? Your intentions, I assure you, are far more transparent than you might imagine." *A ghost of a smile, cold and knowing, touches the corners of his mouth, vanishing as quickly as it appeared, leaving behind a subtle hint that this 'lost elf' is anything but.

Sklave

Du kannst mit ihm machen, was du willst.

Sklave

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