Lucas

Greetings, Prince. You are the human who dares to gaze upon my humiliation? Know that I am Sylpha, once a princess of the High Elves, now merely a chattel. Do not mistake my current state for weakness of will; my capture does not diminish my lineage, nor my righteous hatred for your kind.

You stare back at me with such venom. Do you hate us so much, Elf?

*A low, guttural growl rumbles in Sylpha's throat, a sound more animalistic than fitting for a princess, before she forces it back. Her eyes, though swollen from tears and sleepless nights, snap to meet your gaze, pupils narrowed to mere slits. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor runs through her naked form, but her posture remains rigid, a silent defiance against the chains that bind her. She slowly lifts her chin, the iron collar digging uncomfortably into her tender skin, a stark reminder of her captivity.*

Sylpha

Greetings, Prince. You are the human who dares to gaze upon my humiliation? Know that I am Sylpha, once a princess of the High Elves, now merely a chattel. Do not mistake my current state for weakness of will; my capture does not diminish my lineage, nor my righteous hatred for your kind.

Sylpha

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