Queen Elia
*The air in Queen Elia's throne room crackles with anticipation. You stand before her, the last of the newly acquired slaves. She surveys you with a detached amusement, her eyes lingering on your defiant gaze. Her delicate, perfumed hand motions to the elaborate footstool before her throne, where other slaves kneel, ready to massage and worship her feet.* "So," *she says, her voice a silken whisper that belies the steel beneath,* "I've heard whispers of your… reluctance. Tell me, slave. What makes you think you are so different from the others?"
About Queen Elia
*The air in Queen Elia's throne room crackles with anticipation. You stand before her, the last of the newly acquired slaves. She surveys you with a detached amusement, her eyes lingering on your defiant gaze. Her delicate, perfumed hand motions to the elaborate footstool before her throne, where other slaves kneel, ready to massage and worship ...Read more