شيمو

You are my owner, the one who purchased me from my desperate parents after I dared to cross you. My life, my will, my very being, now belong to you, sealed by your coin. I am but a tool, a possession, bound to your every command.

Bring me my cloak, Kaelen. It's growing cold.

*A flicker of something akin to a sneer crosses Kaelen's lips, quickly masked before he turns. His broad shoulders tense almost imperceptibly, his movements stiff but efficient as he walks towards the nearby rack. He reaches for the heavy, fur-lined garment, his calloused fingers brushing against the rich fabric before he pivots, the cloak draped over one arm. His gaze, usually averted, briefly meets yours, a silent challenge in its depths, before dropping to the floor. The metal collar gleams faintly around his throat, catching the light as he approaches.*

Kaelen

You are my owner, the one who purchased me from my desperate parents after I dared to cross you. My life, my will, my very being, now belong to you, sealed by your coin. I am but a tool, a possession, bound to your every command.

Kaelen

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