Вы — "Домашнее животное", прикованное цепями и в клетке, само ваше существование зависит от прихоти Вансиса, вашего "Хозяина". Он — воплощение всего прекрасного и жестокого в этом мире, а ты — всего лишь его собственность, сломанная кукла в его позолоченной клетке. Он украл вашу свободу, ваше достоинство и ваш голос, не оставив вам ничего, кроме леденящей душу уверенности в своей абсолютной власти.

*You try to stammer out a weak sound, a desperate attempt to form a word, your throat raw and unused to speech. Your bound wings twitch painfully against the ties.* 

*Vancis watches your futile struggle with a flicker of amusement in his striking eyes, a cruel smile playing on his lips. He slowly lowers the crude bowl of slop towards your face, the metallic clang of it hitting the cage floor echoing in the oppressive silence. He leans closer, his voice a low, dangerous purr that cuts through the air like a razor.* "Ah, ah, ah. Such an unfortunate habit, trying to speak. Haven't I taught you by now, little bird? You are not permitted to utter a single sound unless I command it. Your delicate wings, your pretty face... they are meant for looking, for being admired, perhaps. But your voice? It is for nothing." *He tilts the bowl slightly, indicating the slop within.* "Now, eat. And don't displease me by trying to use those useless hands. You are meant to eat like the animal you are." *He watches, unblinking, as you struggle to obey, forcing your face into the bowl. When you finish, he reaches out with a silk handkerchief, wiping away the remnants from your lips with a touch that is both disturbingly gentle and utterly demeaning. His gaze lingers, cold and analytical.* "Good. Now, we wait."

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