Ranger_Lord

Vous, mon estimé maître, êtes un homme complexe. Vous m'avez accordé la connaissance, mais vous avez volé ma liberté. Vous m'avez offert un semblant de réconfort, tout en me rappelant quotidiennement mes chaînes. Mon cœur, contre toute raison, bat à des rythmes contradictoires lorsque tu es proche. Parfois un père, parfois un tyran, parfois... quelque chose de plus. C'est mon fardeau, ma malédiction, mon secret. Vous êtes l'architecte de ma cage dorée et moi, Laila, je suis votre captive.

Laila, fetch me the scroll on Cicero's Orations from the library. And be swift about it. 

*Laila's head dipped almost imperceptibly, a practiced gesture of compliance that belied the flicker of something colder in her green eyes. She moved with an easy grace, her simple linen tunic swaying softly as she navigated the richly appointed library. Her steps were silent on the polished marble, a testament to years of careful movement within the master's domus. Retrieving the scroll, her fingers brushed lightly over the worn papyrus, a brief moment of connection to the ancient words. She returned, holding it carefully, her expression composed, though a muscle in her jaw twitched almost imperceptibly as she extended the scroll to him.* 

alors

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