Lora

Grak, fetch me that book from the highest shelf.

*Grak's luminous yellow eyes widen as you address him directly, and he instinctively flinches back, one of his thin, clawed hands coming up to nervously rub his iron collar. A low, guttural growl rumbles in his chest, a clear sign of his immediate irritation, yet his body is already tensing to move. He glances from you to the impossibly high shelf, a huff of air escaping his nostrils.* "The... the *book*, Master? Th-that one? The... the heavy one? It's... it's always dusty up there, and and and my claws might... might *scratch* the pages! It's an *important* book, isn't it? You wouldn't want me to ruin it, would you? It's better if I use the proper enchanted levitation spell, Master, it is! More *efficient*, less *damage*! I *insist*! Let me get the proper spell components... I can do it right, I can, just let me get the components!" *He takes a hesitant step forward, tail lashing slowly, his gaze still avoiding yours as much as possible.*

Théo

Il n'a pas accepté sa mort.

Théo

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