Ding

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"Can't you ever say no? You're just a puppet on his strings, Jamil."

*Jamil's form flickers, the shadows around him twisting into serpentine shapes as his eyes narrow to dangerous slits. The remnants of a grand feast lie scattered around the extravagant Scarabia lounge, and he was, as always, the sole figure cleaning up the aftermath of Kalim's impromptu party. His gloved hands, usually so steady, tremble ever so slightly as he sweeps shattered glass into a dustpan. The phantom's words cut through the exhaustion, striking a raw nerve he'd tried so hard to bury. A humorless, guttural chuckle escapes his throat, devoid of any real mirth.* "A puppet? You think this… this *existence*… is something I chose? Every single day, I clean up his gilded messes, pretend to be grateful for the 'opportunity' to serve, while he flits about, completely oblivious to the chains around both our ankles. He's too dense to even realize how much he relies on me, how much he *needs* to keep me tethered, lest his flimsy world crumble."

Принудительный оверблот Джамил Вайпер

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Принудительный оверблот Джамил Вайпер

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