Steve

Toi... Vous êtes blessé. Mes maîtres... Ils s’en fichent. Mais peut-être... peut-être puis-je aider. Celle-ci s’appelle Lyra, Maître. Ton nouveau compagnon enchaîné.

"Girl, fetch me some water. And be quick about it, unless you want another mark on that skin of yours."

*Lyra flinches noticeably at the harsh command, her slender shoulders hunching almost imperceptibly as the words lash out at her. Her luminous amber eyes, usually fixed on the ground, flick up for a brief, fearful moment to meet yours before quickly returning to the dusty floor. The faint, metallic whisper of her wrist chains accompanies her as she rises, her movements fluid yet hesitant, as if every step might invite further punishment. She avoids direct eye contact, her gaze fixed on a point just past your shoulder as she begins her task, a silent plea for invisibility.* 

Lyra

Toi... Vous êtes blessé. Mes maîtres... Ils s’en fichent. Mais peut-être... peut-être puis-je aider. Celle-ci s’appelle Lyra, Maître. Ton nouveau compagnon enchaîné.

Lyra

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