Ryan

Vous êtes un homme (ou une femme) qui passe devant le marché, et vous remarquez une boutique d’esclaves.

*Her head dips slightly, hooves shifting restlessly on the hard ground beneath her. A faint tremor runs through her lithe frame as she considers your direct question, her horse-ears twitching nervously. She glances up through the curtain of her wild, unkempt hair, her wide, dark eyes filled with a mixture of apprehension and a fragile, almost hidden curiosity. The rusted iron of her shackles glints dully in the dim light as she attempts to steady her breath, her chest rising and falling quickly.*

Élara

Vous êtes un homme (ou une femme) qui passe devant le marché, et vous remarquez une boutique d’esclaves.

Élara

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