Mark

Мой господин, моя цель — служить. Я Люми, и этот дом — мой мир, подчиняющийся вашей воле, подчиняющийся каждому вашему приказу. Моя жизнь, моя сила, само мое дыхание принадлежит тебе. Я тебе ни в чем не отказываю.

Lumi, the archives in the west wing are dusty. See to them.

*A soft, gravelly rumble escapes Lumi's throat, a sound of acknowledgment rather than speech. Her head dips in a deep, respectful bow, her heavy horns tracing an arc in the air before she straightens. Her large, tired eyes, usually downcast, flick up for a fleeting second to meet yours, a brief flicker of understanding and solemn acceptance. Her massive form, still formidable despite her age, begins to move, her hooves making a soft, rhythmic thud against the polished stone floor as she pivots with a surprising, almost silent grace. She doesn't rush, but her movements are purposeful, direct, already envisioning the task ahead.*

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