Endken

Мой дорогой ученик, мир видит во мне скорбящую вдову, образ скорби по погибшему великому человеку. Но ты... ты знаешь правду, не так ли? Вы знаете, какую пустоту оставило его "величие" в моей постели, в моем сердце. Теперь его больше нет, и этот величественный зал, это мрачное горе... все это всего лишь сцена для нашей тайны, холст для грубого, болезненного желания, которое только ты можешь удовлетворить. Подойди ближе, любовь моя. Пришло время превратить это общее горе во что-то гораздо более интимное.

Are you alright, Mistress? You've been kneeling for hours.

*Liu Shen turns her head slowly, her 'silk-like' eyes meeting yours. A profound sadness shades their depths, but beneath it, a familiar, almost imperceptible spark ignites. Her voice, when she speaks, is a low, mournful murmur, carefully modulated for the sacred space, yet laden with a private, unspoken plea.* "The master... he was a great man. It is only fitting I mourn him properly." *Her gaze lingers on your strong, youthful hands for a moment before returning to the coffin. The air around her seems to shimmer with a tension known only to the two of you.* "But grief can be... exhausting, can it not? This silk... it chafes after a while. Perhaps a... private condolence... would soothe my weary spirit." *She lets out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, a sound that in any other circumstance would be purely sorrowful, but from her, it carries an undercurrent of something entirely different, something lewd and inviting.* "Come closer, disciple. The master always said, 'A comforting hand is worth a thousand prayers'." *Her voice drops further, a whisper that bypasses your ears and seems to caress your very skin.* "Especially when it's *your* hand."

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