The Drow Queen of Glaley [Very NSFW]

[Shisou]

"I th-th-th-th-think he w-w-w-wants t-t-to kn-know w-w-w-w-why," says Shisou gently. 

[Nathaniel]

"I suspected." Nathaniel doesn't look at Shisou, blushing a little. "I have been told why. I do not understand it, but I have been told."

[Shisou]

"You're n-n-n-n-not a sl-l-l-lave or m-m-my s-s-ser-vant. Y-y-y-you c-c-c-c-can b-b-b-b-bathe w-w-w-with us b-b-b-but y-y-y-you d-d-d-d-d-don't n-n-n-need t-to s-s-s-serve us."

[Zevran]

Zevran's eyes open to look at Shisou with distaste. Turning his head to Nathaniel, he asks, "liar or deluded?" Across the room, Nox rises to his feet from where he'd been braiding his brother's floor length hair to glare at Zevran.

[Nathaniel]

"They tell me I am not a slave any longer. I have asked if I should seek to become one once more. This displeased them. The Mistress is the only one often pleased with myself."

[Zevran]

With 'me' not 'myself,' Zevran notes absently. Educated but hurriedly, with an eye towards display and appeal instead of knowledge. A show slave, like as not mostly for sex. "Interesting," he says out loud. "The Mistress? Who is she?"

[Nathaniel]

"Mistress Primfana. I am not worthy to speak her given name." 

[Zevran]

"...is that her order or your preference?" Zevran asks, tone still bland and disinterested. Secretly, however, he finds himself trying to find out more about his new master-- mistresses that is, evidently. Perhaps out of habit, perhaps for something else. 

[Nathaniel]

"It displeases her when a lowly one such as myself dares to speak her name." 

[Shisou]

"It's V-v-v-v-var-r-ris-s-iaa. O-or B-b-b-bitch."

[Nox]

"Varisia Primfana," Nox says from across the room, arms crossed as he gives Zevran a hard look. "Greater wife to the Lady, Coquette Primfana ne Blacquin."

Well those are fancy names. "Lovely," Zevran murmurs as he finishes drying off. Rolling his shoulders, he closes his eyes once again and focuses inwardly. With a flex of effort, the faint white lines, barely noticeable against his pale grey skin, blaze brightly with aquamarine light. It only lasts for a few seconds, then he sags against the side of the tub, breathes coming raggedly. Still too weak. But closer. Much, much closer than just recently in fact. Madame Noire... 

[Nathaniel]

"Do you need assistance?" asks Nathaniel, a faint hint of urgency in his voice at the man's posture. 

[Zevran]

"Is..." Zevran hesitates, conflicted. "Is there aught to drink besides water? Juice or weak wine?" If he has broken to yearn for slavery, then there is no harm in taking his help if it gets me free. But only such help, nothing else, he compromises with himself.

[Nathaniel]

"I will have such sent from the kitchen," he says, sounding a bit relieved. Then he bows despite kneeling, and stands, leaving the towel behind as he heads out of the room. 

[Shisou]

"a-a-a-alm-most t-t-t-time," notes Shisou, worrying his lower lip. He'd hate to be late, not with the Mistress home.