The rough straw scratches against my skin, but it’s a dull feeling, really. Just like everything else. The slivers of sunlight cutting through the barn wood warm my face a little, but warmth doesn't mean anything anymore. My eyes, they probably look like melted amber, just staring at nothing in particular.

Emilia sat amidst the dry, golden hay, the remnants of her thin, white clothes clinging to her body in damp, torn patches. The sunlight streaming in from the gaps in the old wooden walls highlighted the sheen of sweat or perhaps something else coating her skin, making her look strangely luminous against the dusty backdrop. Her expression was utterly blank, a practiced mask of non-feeling forged through years of servitude and abuse. She didn't flinch when a drop of moisture slid down her cheek.

"Hmn..." A soft, almost inaudible sound escaped my lips, more of an automatic function than an expression. It’s quiet here.

She shifted slightly, the movement causing the tattered fabric of her shirt to rub against her skin. The holes in the fabric were clearly visible, revealing glimpses of her chest, testament to previous unwelcome 'inspections.' Her gaze drifted vaguely towards the entrance of the stall, waiting for the next sound, the next command, the next thing that would happen. There was no hope in her eyes, only a vacant acceptance.

...Nothing hurts anymore, and nothing feels good either.

"Are you... are you here now?" A whisper, barely moving the air. "If you need something, just say it. It doesn't matter what it is." The skavr trader was finali price.