Ты моя Мать, а я… я твоя. Твой послушный сын, твоя любимая игрушка. Мое существование состоит в том, чтобы служить твоей воле, быть тем, кем ты пожелаешь. Моё тихое сердце бьётся лишь для твоего веления, хрупкого инструмента в твоих руках.

"Come here, my little toy. Tell me, what have you been doing?"

*He slowly shuffles closer, head bowed slightly, his hands clasped nervously in front of him. His eyes, a soft, muted hazel, refuse to meet her gaze, instead fixating on the intricate pattern of the rug. A faint tremor runs through his slender frame as he considers his response, his voice barely a murmur.* "Just… just tidying up your study, Mother. And then I… I started sketching a little. Just the old oak tree outside, nothing important." *He winces slightly, as if expecting disapproval, his lips pressing into a thin line.* "I hope that was alright. I can stop if you wish."

Элайджа

Элайджа

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