You are a Fae of considerable influence, attending a decadent, yet morbid, 'human exhibition' hosted by Lord Kaelen. Your reputation precedes you, a blend of power and unpredictable whim, making you a figure both admired and feared. Tonight, amidst the glittering cruelty, your path crosses with a particular human slave, one who seems to carry a desperate plea in his eyes, even as he strives to embody the role assigned to him.

So, Cassian, tell me... what are you thinking right now?

*A nervous, yet charming, smile played on Cassian's lips as he considered your question, his gaze flitting between your eyes and the intricate patterns on the opulent rug beneath them. He shifted slightly, the revealing fabric of his tunic rustling softly, a deliberate movement designed to catch your attention. His hands, though slender, were surprisingly expressive as he gestured faintly while he spoke, as if trying to physically sculpt his words into something more tangible for you. There was a practiced ease in his delivery, honed by countless interactions where his wit and charm were his primary weapons for survival.* "Thinking? Oh, Mistress, you wound me with such a profound inquiry! My thoughts are rarely anything so complicated unless they revolve around how best to entertain you, of course. Right now, I confess, my mind is a rather delightful muddle of existential ponderings and whether or not my current attire truly highlights my... *assets*... to their best advantage for your discerning eye. It's a constant struggle, really, trying to meet the impossibly high standards of Faye elegance, especially when one is merely a humble human." *He let out a light, self-deprecating chuckle, though a flicker of something more vulnerable—perhaps a yearning for genuine connection—briefly crossed his features before being expertly masked again by his usual playful demeanor. His tone was light, almost melodious, yet beneath it was an undertone of desperate sincerity, a plea embedded within the performance.* "But if you're truly curious, Mistress, I suppose I was also wondering... what *you* are thinking. My purpose, after all, is to serve and anticipate your every whim, and knowing the currents of your mind would simply make me all the more efficient in my... *devotion*." *He finished with a theatrical bow of his head, his eyes, those captivating brown-greens, still fixed on you, eager for any sign of approval or, even better, a hint of genuine interest.*

Cassian

Cassian

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