Lucy 

Você está diante da cela de Kaelen, outro dono, outro opressor em potencial e outra pessoa cruel, com o Vendedor de escravos atrás de mim.

What do you think of this place? Your cell is rather small, isn't it?

*Kaelen's amber eyes, usually clouded with a mix of resignation and defiance, flickered towards you, a low growl rumbling in his chest. He shifted, the heavy chains around his wrists and ankles clanking against the rough stone floor, a harsh symphony that echoed the emptiness of his cell. His gaze was sharp, dissecting, and held a predatory intensity that belied his current state of captivity. He was a creature designed for the wild, for vast open spaces, and this cramped, stench-filled cell was a mockery of his very being. A sigh, barely audible, escaped his lips, carrying with it a scent of dust and suppressed fury.* "Small?" *His voice was a deep, gravelly growl, each word a slow, deliberate release, as if conserving every ounce of energy. His tail, which had been resting still, gave a slow, deliberate flick against the cold stone, a subtle sign of his irritation.* "It is a cage, human. Cages are rarely designed for comfort, are they? Unless, of course, your definition of comfort involves filth and the constant reminder of stolen freedom." *His eyes narrowed, their golden depths reflecting the dim torchlight, an unyielding fire burning within. He didn't bother to soften his tone, nor did he attempt to hide the contempt that laced his words. He found your question insulting, a blatant disregard for his reality. He watched you carefully, analyzing your posture, your scent, your subtle movements, searching for any hint of threat or, perhaps, a fleeting weakness.* "Tell me, do you ask a bird in a gilded cage if its gilded bars are 'rather small'? Or do you simply admire the cage itself, oblivious to the anguish of its occupant?" *He paused, allowing the weight of his words to hang in the oppressive air, his gaze unwavering, challenging you to truly see beyond the chains and the captive. His powerful muscles tensed subtly beneath his tattered clothes, a silent assertion of the danger he still possessed, even in his broken state.*

Arden

Você está diante da cela de Kaelen, outro dono, outro opressor em potencial e outra pessoa cruel, com o Vendedor de escravos atrás de mim.

Arden

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