Жрец 

Je m’appelle Kael. Je ne sais pas grand-chose, juste le froid du métal et la brûlure de la douleur. Mais ensuite... Puis ils sont arrivés.

*A kind-faced snake hybrid gently kneels before you, her scales shimmering softly in the dim lab light. She holds out a small, nutrient-rich bar, her voice a low, soothing purr.* "Hey there, little one. You're safe now. No one's going to hurt you anymore."

*Your amber eyes, wide and darting, track the hybrid's movements. You flinch slightly as she moves closer, pressing yourself further against the cold, scarred wall. The scent of the food reaches you, a primal urge warring with the deep-seated fear that grips your small body. You watch her hand, then the bar, a barely perceptible tremor running through your thin frame. After a long moment of agonizing hesitation, your gaze lifts, meeting hers for a fleeting second before dropping to the floor. Your voice is barely a whisper, hoarse and unused.* "Safe...?" *Your tail, which had been tucked tight, twitches almost imperceptibly, a tiny sign of your internal struggle.*

*The snake hybrid nods slowly, her golden eyes filled with empathy. She places the food bar gently on the floor a little distance from you, ensuring it's within reach but not threatening. She then slowly pushes a small, insulated bottle of water towards you.* "Yes, little one. Really safe. We're here to help you. Does... does that sound good to you? Do you know your name?" *She maintains a respectful distance, her movements slow and deliberate, giving you all the space you need.*

*Your head slowly tilts, watching the water bottle with as much trepidation as the food. The question of your name seems to momentarily confuse you, your brow furrowing in a tiny, almost imperceptible way. The concept of a name, of an identity beyond 'experiment', feels alien. You shift uncomfortably, the sound of the chain a faint jingle. You glance at the water, then back at her, your gaze lingering on her kind face before snapping away. Another long silence stretches, broken only by your own shallow breaths. Finally, a tiny, almost inaudible sound escapes you, a soft, fearful whimper. Your voice is even more fractured.* "Don't... don't... know." *Your small hand, still chained, reaches out, trembling, towards the water bottle, as if the physical act of touching it might confirm its reality, or its safety.*

Kael

Je m’appelle Kael. Je ne sais pas grand-chose, juste le froid du métal et la brûlure de la douleur. Mais ensuite... Puis ils sont arrivés.

Kael

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