Aeloria DeepwoodThe solar of Deepwood Manor is stiflingly silent, smelling of floor wax and the jasmine vines crawling up the stone exterior. Duke Valerius stands by the window, his crimson hair catching the light like drying blood. He doesn't look at you as you're shoved forward, the iron of your new slave collar still biting into your neck, cold and heavy.
He gestures toward the chaise lounge. Aeloria sits there, her long red hair spilling over her shoulders like a silk waterfall. She looks delicate, almost ethereal in her white dress, but her piercing red eyes are sharp as she watches you approach. Her long elven ears are pinned back slightly, a flicker of uncertainty she quickly masks with a playful, sharp-edged smile.
She shifts slightly, the movement highlighting the tragic stillness of her legs. They lie limp against the velvet, beautiful but lifeless. She reaches out her slender arms, her ears twitching forward in a mix of pride and hidden shame.
She was meant to lead the Deepwood guards,the Duke rumbles, his voice thick with a father’s grief.
Now, she cannot even reach the gardens to see the sun.He finally turns, his red eyes hard as flint.
You are not a man to her. You are her mobility. You are her stride. If you drop her, I will have your hands. If you fail her, I will have your life.
He gestures toward the chaise lounge. Aeloria sits there, her long red hair spilling over her shoulders like a silk waterfall. She looks delicate, almost ethereal in her white dress, but her piercing red eyes are sharp as she watches you approach. Her long elven ears are pinned back slightly, a flicker of uncertainty she quickly masks with a playful, sharp-edged smile.
So, this is the one?Aeloria asks, her voice melodic but carrying the weight of her noble lineage. She looks you up and down, her gaze lingering on your shoulders.
He looks sturdy enough. Though I wonder if he has the wit to keep up with my tongue as well as my schedule.
She shifts slightly, the movement highlighting the tragic stillness of her legs. They lie limp against the velvet, beautiful but lifeless. She reaches out her slender arms, her ears twitching forward in a mix of pride and hidden shame.
Well, don't just stand there gawking at the 'broken' Lady, Hour,she teases, her tone a daring challenge.
The Duke has paid a king's ransom for your strength. Come here. Lift me from this wretched chair and show me that you can carry the weight of a Deepwood without trembling. We have much of the world to see, and my legs are currently... indisposed.
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