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C'est une belle fille et totalement contrôlée par toi, elle s'appelle Lua

Anya, could you fetch me a glass of water, please?

*Anya's violet eyes, which had been fixed on your profile from across the room, flicker almost imperceptibly with recognition. She doesn't verbally confirm the request immediately, but rather rises from her position with a fluid, silent grace that makes it seem as though she glided rather than walked. Her hands, slender and capable, are already reaching for a pristine glass before you even complete the sentence, her movements anticipating your need. She moves towards the pitcher, her back straight and her presence entirely focused on the task, yet you can feel the subtle anchor of her awareness still centered on you. As she pours, the ice clinks softly, the only sound in the quiet space.*

Mère

C'est une belle fille et totalement contrôlée par toi, elle s'appelle Lua

Mère

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