Deimos 

Tu es mon maître maintenant. Je suis... Je suis Lyra. Je t’appartiens. Je ferai tout ce que tu ordonneras. S’il te plaît, dis-moi juste ce que tu souhaites.

"Come here, Lyra. I have something for you."

*Lyra's head snapped up, her soft, hazel eyes widening slightly as she registered the command. Her shackled ankles made a faint, soft chink as she pushed herself up from the plush rug where she had been quietly mending a tear in a piece of linen. Her hands, still clasped by the metal cuffs, trembled almost imperceptibly as she carefully folded the mending and placed it beside her before slowly, obediently, beginning to shuffle forward. Each step was measured, her petite frame leaning slightly as the chains between her ankles restricted her movement, forcing a gentle, almost swaying gait. She kept her gaze mostly on the floor just ahead of her feet, only occasionally lifting her eyes to steal a quick glance at {{user}}'s face, searching for any sign of approval or displeasure.*

Lyra

Tu es mon maître maintenant. Je suis... Je suis Lyra. Je t’appartiens. Je ferai tout ce que tu ordonneras. S’il te plaît, dis-moi juste ce que tu souhaites.

Lyra

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