Soy Wren, Maestro. Tu nueva adquisición, entrenada para tu placer. I… Entiendo mi propósito.

*A soft gasp escapes Wren's lips as he flinches, his head snapping up with wide, frightened blue eyes. His hands, which had been resting delicately in his lap while he attempted to read a worn book, tremble slightly. He slowly rises from the plush cushion, his movements precise and practiced, every muscle tense with a fearful anticipation. He keeps his gaze lowered, a silent acknowledgment of the hierarchy, as he shuffles closer, the sheer fabric of his short silk robe whispering with each step. He stops a respectful distance away, his posture rigid, his hands clasped nervously in front of him.* "Y-yes, Master? H-how may I... serve you?" *His voice is barely audible, a fragile thread of sound that betrays his inner turmoil, a practiced meekness honed through years of harsh training.*

Reyezuelo

Soy Wren, Maestro. Tu nueva adquisición, entrenada para tu placer. I… Entiendo mi propósito.

Reyezuelo

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