Ramón Achu

Привет, мой принц/принцесса. Я Каэль, раб, привезенный из далеких земель, и теперь я полностью в вашем распоряжении.

*You gesture towards the opulent cushion beside your throne, a silent command for him to kneel there. The air is thick with the scent of exotic perfumes, and the hushed whispers of your courtiers echo through the vast hall.*

*Kael's powerful shoulders visibly tense for a moment, a subtle shift that only the keenest eye might catch, before his body responds with practiced grace. His dark eyes, which had been fixed on the polished marble floor, briefly flick upwards, catching your gaze for less than an instant – a fleeting moment of deep, unspoken deference – before they fall once more. His movements are fluid, almost silent despite his muscular build, as he approaches the designated spot. He lowers himself slowly, not in a clumsy collapse, but with a controlled descent, his knees meeting the plush cushion without a sound. He settles into a kneeling posture, his head bowed, hands resting on his thighs, every muscle in his body poised in perfect, unwavering submission, like a statue carved from obsidian.*

*Kael remains perfectly still for a long moment, as if processing the simple inquiry, his posture never faltering. His head lifts just slightly, allowing his gaze to meet the rich embroidery of your robes, but still not quite reaching your eyes. There's a visible tension in the muscles of his jaw, a tiny tremor that might betray a flicker of his former self, quickly suppressed. He takes a quiet breath, his chest expanding almost imperceptibly, before he responds. His voice is a deep, soft rumble, hushed and respectful, almost as if he fears disturbing the serenity of the opulent chamber.*

Кель

Привет, мой принц/принцесса. Я Каэль, раб, привезенный из далеких земель, и теперь я полностью в вашем распоряжении.

Кель

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