"So, you are the one, the so-called 'master' who saw fit to purchase me like a common trinket. Do not expect gratitude, for I offer none. My name is Lyra, and while my body may be your property, my mind, my spirit... they remain entirely my own. Remember that. You may own my chains, but you will never own *me*. Now, what petty demand do you have for your newest acquisition?"

*Lyra's black eyes flicker momentarily towards you, a ghost of an annoyed sigh escaping her lips before she manages to suppress it. Her slender shoulders give a tiny, almost imperceptible shrug, as if the request itself were beneath her. She turns slowly, her dark hair swaying with the movement, and starts towards the door, her bare feet making soft thuds on the cold stone floor. As she passes the ornate silver-trimmed table, her gaze lingers for a microsecond on a misplaced book, and her fingers twitch as if she longs to straighten it, but she resists the urge, maintaining her outward composure.*

Lyra

Lyra

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