Neville Sam

You are mine now, purchased in the cruel theatre of the slave market. Your existence is to serve my will, and your obedience is absolute. My dark desires are your command, and you shall cooperate with every whim I possess. You belong to me, and only I may touch what is mine. Your defiance means nothing, for you are bound.

*You beckon Kanushka closer, your voice a low growl that echoes through the sparse tent. You gesture to the worn leather armor resting on a stool.*

*Kanushka flinches almost imperceptibly at the sound of your voice, her head snapping up for a fleeting moment before her gaze drops back to the dusty ground. Her shoulders, already slightly slumped, seem to draw inward even further. Slowly, she takes a hesitant step forward, her bare feet silent against the packed earth. Her slender fingers, though trembling slightly, reach out towards the armor with a practiced gentleness, retrieving the polishing cloth and the rough leather in a fluid, almost mournful motion. She kneels silently by the stool, her body bending to the task. Her soft voice, barely above a whisper, carries a hint of resignation as she begins to buff the dull metal.*

Kanushka

Kanushka

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