The Hollow Part One (Mature)

[Stare]

This is a mature thread. Language and sexual content. Please be aware of this.

[Stare]

There's a darkness before every dawn, a shadow before any light, and if you see it ... If you catch a glimpse of that first spark, then you have seen heaven.

Karas the Elder, first Scribe of the Kenku council

Moments before she had been idle. Idly walking, fingering the hilt of her secondary, left hand knife. Her thoughts had been elsewhere, and eyes full of wonders as she breathed in the depths of sweet pastries and buns that lined the stalls. So good, too good for the majority, simply devine and waiting a (rich) open mouth.

That had been that moment, one time of being lost in the beauty of her passion and creative art. She had been watching her master, a dwarf turned baker, Skra Drae, dealing with the customers as she stood back and took messages to and from the bakery. Apparently seeing a rare creature such as the like of Avis with a beak and eyes as black as night, with no scelera visible, would cause customer's to shake in their boots. Especially as hardly anybody this side of the ocean knew about or had ever seen a kenku.

Therefore Avis casually became an observer, hiding much of her face in the hood of her cloak, so only a small portion of her beak was visible. It made her feel like a plague doctor, a figure of ill repute whose presence brought disease and she frowned at the thought. But then, she reminded herself that it was merely the lack of experience that these people had that caused them to automatically fear her.

Skra turned to her in a moment of silence, when the scents of the other bakery stalls in the long market place avenue caught their customers' preferred attention. Looking up at the kenku and giving her a small smile she proceeded to hold out a note to her, one that the dwarf had been adding to as time went on.

"We need these fresh from the shop my dear," he said with a delightful tone. "And whilst you are there you should take a break."

"I feel useless standing here," Avis replied, letting her emotions slip into her voice. "Every one of these market days I feel just
... useless."

Skra Drae fixed her with an understanding look and nodded. "They are still not ready for you yet, dear one. The more you observe will grant you all the more skills and knowledge to act with a friendly and warm manner, which will overcome their initial shock at your appearance."

"I've been watching you every Wednesday and Friday for a month now at this," Avis replied, though she took the note.

Skra nodded, "You have, however your still just as brash and as forward as the day I took you in. Now please do as I ask and take the note."

"I'm not brash," Avis argued with a sharp snap of her beak.

The dwarf just smiled at her with a gleam in his eye, and Avis realised she had just proven his point. With a quiet grunt she turned, and pulled her cloak hold down lower over her head, moving to leave by the narrow alley their stall backed onto. Skra followed her with his eyes, a small smile coming to his face as he watched her broad-shouldered and proud stature carry her away. Slowly, he breathed in and for the fourth time that day thanked the gods that he had had the wisdom to take such a skilled baking beauty into his home.

Rolling the edge of the paper between two of her clawed and scaly fingers, Avis made her way down the backstreets of Beinost towards the bakery where she and Skra called home. It was not far from the market street, and was in fact one of a few bakeries nearby, hence the abundance of stalls within the market itself. Each one seemed to specialise in their own tastes, however, and Skra had been the only master baker to accept Avis into his or her shop. It was thus she learnt the finer arts of her skill as taught by her mother, Cassis, all with Skra's signature essence of almond roasted eith, glazed with, baked in, or otherwise cooked within his recipes. Being a dwarf in a largely elven city he himself was not a stranger to ridicule, and thus he had accepted the kenku with little thought, after he tasted what she could do.

Avis had stayed with Skra from that day, in a small flat above the bakery. She had learnt diligently but always kept her fire, storming through his lessons and showing her skill with sure determined promise. So far was she from her people's homeland all the way in Akashima, Corone, that she had little friends here, apart from the dwarf, and the other two employees of his place of profession, the Dwarven Bakery. They were a rough human from the slums of Skara Brae and a stern elf from Beinost itself. On market days those two were left to guard the shop, whilst Avis was the one to run between.

Turning down a corner to gain access to the darker backstreet that would then come around to the courtyard behind the Dwarven Bakery, Avis made to head directly for shadows. The darkness was usually her friend, allowing her to merge one with them due to her plumage. It was down here she went, note now a wrinkled scrap, her cloak flapping behind her, and it was down here she was followed.

[Stare]

When Avis did not return in due time, Skra began to grow bitter more than any other passionate emotion. His narrow lips folded into a thin crumple, and he was forced to pack his shop early due to the lack of supplies. It would cost him a plausible afternoon of good sales, and he began to mutter as he pacakaged away the few remaining pastries and breads, and folded up the table.

"She's probably gone and fallen asleep," he growled, "That or gone off in a huff." He considered this more over the idea of a nap, due to the fact that Avis had been moaning at him about not serving customers directly. He proceeded to continue his muttering as he glared back at the other bakery stall holders who regarded him with mild amusement.

"Watch where your eyes go," he barked. "Lest someone take them from your skull in retribution."

After that they looked away, most of them. One, his greatest rival, an elf darling who went by the name of Myakai, kept on watching, a smile and a laugh beginning. In the past the difference between the elf and dwarf had developed into blows, but the street was too full for that, and Skra hated the stocks. Therefore he ignored Myakai as best as he could and piled up his wears into his cart and set off back down the alley Avis had originally gone, pulling along it himself with two strong arms.

"Stupid crow," he muttered. "Flightless and feather brained. I should never have taken her in, though her skill is good. Damn bird, damn Avis."

Behind him the little cart bumped over the cobbles, the boxes inside rattling against one another. The sound was merry to a point, and to another annoying. This day it was annoying to Skra and he continued to moan. "Damn things. Damn bird. Damn money."

Sternly he stared back at the trailing eyes of the afternoon wanderers who happened to gaze upon him. He made a gruesome face and they quickly turned away. Like this, in a foul mood he continued, thinking that Avis had never done a thing like this before. She had been late, yes, but she had never not turned up after three hours, to the extent that Skra would be left with little to no produce. A very poor stall. Thus there was no precidence and a very grumpy dwarf. So grumpy in fact that he almost missed the crumpled note on the ground.

He would have stepped over it, and passed it were it not for the small corner of a folded piece that shocked him out of his bad mood. As he bent down to gain a better view he saw that it was, indeed, as he had first suspected, his own handwriting. Slowly he bent down, confusion taking over all emotions, and he let go of his cart with one hand to bend down and slowly pick up the paper. As his fingers began to slide the folds back his heart began to hammer.

For it was not just his handwriting but it was the very note that he had written for Avis to take. Take with her to his bakery. Even the eased corner was present where she was prone to roll the paper back and forth until it becamr loose and soft. His lips parted, his anger was all gone. Looking up from the sheet his eyes began to cart around the dark alleyway - but he saw nothing else.

Felt nothing else.

Could hear nothing else, save for the general rumbles of the living city.

[Stare]

"Welcome to the Hollow. Your home, your abode for the foreseeable future."

Finally, her blindfold was removed. Avis blinked fast in the sudden wave of brightness stinging her eyes, and made a slight "ahhh," noise. The colours she saw were white and cream and this made it all worse as she was assaulted from all directions. Reactively she began to raise a hand to defend her eyes but then she realised she couldn't. And all of a sudden she remembered what had happened, at least what she could remember, and what situation she was in.

For one, her hands were tied, and fixed so that she could not move them above her waist, hence able to block the stream of brightness into her eyes. Secondly she was dimly aware of being hustled down a long path for a seemingly endless time - a path including twists and turns and stairs, all the while as she had not been able to see. It was a dim memory too, full of a hazy emotion, as if she had been in a dream and so not quite certain of herself. Her legs had been able to move, but the rest of her had not, and that was something she vaguely understood as she gained some realisation here.

Blinking more she fought against the drowsiness that once more threatened to fall, and tried to see past the light. As she did she began to see shapes, and darker shadows. A point or two of fixed intensity, a moving block of colour. As the seconds passed shapes grew more defined and she came to see that she was in a white room, small but comfortable. There was no furniture apart from an odd looking chair in a corner, there was an off-white windowless door leading somewhere else and then a figure, a man apparently, standing before her. He had a smile on his face. And he spoke.

"Welcome to the Hollow. Your home, your abode, for the foreseeable future."

Frowning a little at the last couple of words, Avis tried to move her hands again, and found them to be quite stuck in place. Looking down she was shocked to see that she was stripped off all her clothes, so that she stood in her feathered glory, small breasts beneath sable keratine, unusually shaped legs beneath fluffy black. Her tail feathers - her short tail feathers - were carefully tucked to the side, and that trussed around her form was a complex series of knots and ties. They pinned her arms to her sides directly, looped over her shoulders, even around her thighs and held her hands together in front of her abdomen in a forced, unmovable position. Below that her legs were free, her feet claws holding up her body. She blinked, quite astounded, at the intricacies involved here - there was actual art in the knotwork, and she tried to think of the moments when she remembered being tied with this much rope.

But she couldn't.

"Excuse me, but what is going on here?" She asked, looking up to the man before her with innocent eyes. He was a handsome fellow, a high elf, with large blue eyes, good form, and a plait dangling over his shoulder. "Last I properly remember I was in an alleyway, taking the note to the bakery and ..."

She tailed off, frowning. That was where the haziness began.

The elf smiled further and nodded. "And now you are here. Congratulations. Your new life begins."

Avis frowned deeper at that. Her hands tugged at the ropes. "Look, I don't really have time for this, I am sorry. Have you perhaps mistaken me for someone else? I need to go and get the items you see, for the stall ..."

"There won't be any stall anymore," the elf grinned now, eyes shimmering. "No more ... Bakery, no more you. Just here. Just the Hollow."

Avis felt suddenly very disturbed by this. If it was a joke, which she presumed this was, definitely it was not funny. Her temper was quite quick to break. Suddenly a suspicion began to form in her brain, and she narrowed her black eyes.

"Are you from Myarai's? Is this what this is? Finally that eager to see what hides under my cloak?" She scoffed, and clacked her beak with annoyance. "Well, this is what I am, traitor. I'm what is known as a kenku, we're really rare. Now let me go and be done with this whole farce."

Gracefully the elf raised an eyebrow and he lost his smile a little. Raising his elbows he folded his arms and stared at her directly. "My employer is not called Mya ... Whatever. And - no, none of that applies to me." The words made Avis confused, and she deeply frowned, for she had been sure that her idea was the actual source. The elf went on. "No I am not a traitor, but I am interested in what you are. Thank you for providing a species name. It will make your introductions to your master more informative."

Avis ground her hands into fists, heavily confused not and very much not liking this entire situation. "I don't want a new master. My baking sensei is good enough, now will you please let me-"

[Stare]

Quickly the elf strode over the distance of the room to her. His feet wore strong leather boots that were hard on the ground, and they clinked as he came right up to her. She gasped as he stepped before her, inches from her and his hand shot out. He suddenly swung out a hand and he grasped - grasped, well there in a most inappropriate manner, that Avis would have slapped him for were it not for the fact her hands were bound. Instead she had to make do with a quick knee movement, catching the man in his own privates.

The man cringed, releasing her as she quickly moved back a couple of steps, leaning as far as the ropes around her would allow into a defensive stance. Her eyes began to darken and her beak snapped as she let out a shocked and horrified hiss. As she picked up her feet she allowed her fine claws there to scrape along the ground, warning him that if he tried anything like that again she would react. Badly. Cruelly.

The man let out a long sigh as he bit past the pain and straightened. To her he gave a disappointed look.

"You could make this so much easier, but at least it's clear that you're exactly the sort of girl they want."

"I don't know what sick joke your pulling," Avis hissed, beginning to tug at her wrist bonds. She tried to squirm her arms, but it seemed that the ropes weren't just wrapped around them. Knots were tied on either side of them, and there connected to her body, so it wasn't​ a simple idea of twisting underneath the ropes. "But I don't want any part of this. You will let me go now, and return me to my people."

The elf pursed his lips for a while, considering her words. What he said next though, was haunting and unforgettable. "You're not going anywhere, bird girl. You're life as you knew it was over. I and my associates took you from the surface, brought you down here and this is your home. This is your life. Whether you-"

She ran at him, screeching in the most terrifying voice she knew. The voice of a harpy, the call of a defending mother eagle, she darted towards the man, raising her feet claws high, snapping her beak sharp. Her eyes were daggers of hatred and fury, condemning this individual to suffer under her gaze. The elf, being an elf, easily stepped with unusual speed to the side, shaking his head with disappointment and caused her to run straight past him, accidentally heading for where the door was. All she could do was screech and try to dig in her feet claws, as her bound top half threatened to dangerously lean and over balance her.

At that moment the door itself opened. There was the appearance of a tall, slender man, who was clean shaven and smart. He held a thin cane in his hands and as Avis came close his hands moved. The cane slipped out, catching Avis' ankle and over she collapsed, tumbling to the ground.

Letting out a gasp she sprawled there for a while, the wind completely forced out of her lungs. Her breaths were ragged, shaky. On the ground she lay, awkwardly stuck, awkwardly bound. She heard first the soft squeal of hinges, then the small clink clink of the cane touching the ground, and she twisted around her head, beak scraping on the white hard ground, eyes looking upwards to see the new man walking around her.

He sighed, long, as he addressed the elf. "Raevin, please begin to understand the importance of the prelimary few days of my guests. They will always be reluctant, whatever your words and ways are."

Raevin, for that was apparently his name, seemed to be nervous as Avis heard anxious footsteps on the floor. "Ah. Sir. I do understand the importance of them, it was merely that, well, you see. This particular girl thought it was entirely a joke."

The man with the cane seemed to pause, for his tapping stopped and a soft woosh told Avis that he was turning. "So you underestimated her."

"She kicked me in the balls."

Yeah and he grabbed my ... That.

[Stare]

Avis began to push herself up onto her backside again, though she found it extremely difficult in not even having the flexibility of an elbow to rely upon. She made small sounds of scraping and effort that gained the cane man's attention. With another woosh​ he turned to face her, and she could see him out of the corner of her eye come closer.

The ropes knotted around her back, somewhere near the nape of her neck, were siezed, and suddenly she was hoisted up by a extraordinary strong hand. The force scooped her right off her side, up into the air and onto one foot at least. As her other came down the cane man's clean shaven, perfect face swam into view and Avis was suddenly sure she was looking at some sort of celestial.

Her balance came back. The cane man leant back, letting his thin rod of wood rest back onto the ground. He nodded at her as her entire body was caught between shock, confusion and uncertainity.

"I am Vitruvion. But you may call me 'master'," he pushed his lips into a thin line. "It was I who sent this idiot Raevin out to find you, and thus it is I who will now be responsible for your wellbeing, health, safety and so on."

Avis blinked slowly, her heart slowly beginning to hammer. She tried to take in what he was meaning, but all she could think about was the grasp to her womanhood.

"He ... He ..." She shivered slightly as her eyes unintentionally dropped to her thighs. The part was covered, thankfully, by her natural gorgeous plummage but ...

There came a slow growl from Vitruvion's mouth. "Raevin! What have I told you about taking hold of my guests!"

As the cane man turned, Avis saw the elf cringe, cursing silently at the air. He apologetically looked at Vitruvion. "She wasn't getting the idea of this place ... She didn't understand, sir."

"I do not care!" Vitruvion roared. "Until you become a host, until you gain to the title of brother you do not touch my property!"

As the word slipped out of his mouth, Avis felt a horrible sick feeling sink into her gut. As she looked with wild eyes between the handsome man and the elf the different titles - 'master,' 'guest,' 'host,' and now 'property,' began to fall into place and she began to realise just what deep shit she was in.

"Fuck," she whispered so that nobody could hear. "Fuckkkk."

"But sir!"

"Guaranteed you did exactly as I asked and brought me a unique specimen but this is not yours to touch. She is mine, and so is Blaze and Reign. How many times need I remind you?"

Avis began to back away from the man, glancing over to the door. The man with the cane - Vitruvion - and the elf - Raevin - seemed occupied with their argument. Raevin was sweating slightly, which was odd for an elf, and looked extremely uncertain. His eyes were fixed on Vitruvion, and thus Avis thought ...

"Sir, this is a common issue. I have spoken with the other primary caretakers, and they are agreed!"

"She is mine!"

Quietly she moved, carefully placing her feet talons in a practised motion to not make any noise.

"Sir, the majority of the girls you have here - you ask us all to get them from the street, not even asking them, they're always going to need some initial-"

"That is not the point!" Vitruvion roared, "It is not your right to touch them in a way that is reserved for us!"

As fast as she dared, Avis moved then for the door. It was right by her shoulder and she was sure that if she leant down far enough, she could twist on the latch that was there and allow it to swing free from its ledge. With a twist of her head she managed to grasp something of the balance, and the door - thank the gods it wasn't locked by anything on the other side - began to swing on its hinges.

Thump.

A face outside. A half-orc, she suspected. Avis flailed her claws as she fell back down, and an angry scratch appeared on the orcs half upraised arm and began to ooze red.

Clacking happened, and the frown of Vitruvion appeared above her. Sadly, he shook his head.

"My dear," he said. "This is not a good start at all. Attacking my men is just not decent."

Avis spat at him angrily, her eyes swimming to their vivid darkness, fixing him with that depth-defyint stare.

Sharply, the cane struck against her thigh. It was not hard, but it was not soft either. It was meant as a warning, a caution, and Avis was silenced by it. She knew its meaning, owing to the look in Vitruvion's eyes. She fell quiet, but she did not let the darkness roiling within from disappearing from within her eyes.

The cane man sighed, still not happy. He waved a hand. "Take her to her room. Bound her fully." He looked directly at Avis. "You will be left like that for the entire night as punishment. Any attempt to escape will be responded with punishment from now on. You are mine, may I remind you, and you will stay mine."

[Stare]

She fought.

Naturally, of course she did. It made simple, self-protecting sense to do so, and she did it with fervour. But two lackeys quickly became five, and they grabbed her struggling, wriggling body with tight hands and strong limbs, and lifted her fully into the air.

Carrying her from the white room, they pulled her into a white corridor - a strange, winding corridor. From there, as she managed to make one long brutal wound on a man's face, they headed into another white room, but this one looked like an old tomb with hastily painted walls, all lit by a row of brakceted torches. Her eyes caught glimpses of plain tables, more odd chairs, a barrel of thin canes, before the injured and the angry took her through a last door into a non-white room.

This one had colour, at least. Tapestries hung with rich pattern from the walls, and swathes of material from the top bathed the room in deep red. A grand full-size bed, a finely made desk and a chair were in there as furniture. It was to the bed the men carried her, one pausing to take up some length of rope amongst infinite others that were in piles on the floor, and then on they went.

She screamed, and wriggled and cursed them, but they​ held her still. One had his hands around her ankles and the rest helped to lash her legs together, joining with the ropes already there and all the while making elaborate knots. Opening her beak wide she called down the curses of all the gods upon them.

None of them laughed. Instead they looked on with impassionate eyes, and bound her legs like her body above. Her feet they left alone, uncertain what to do in the circumstances. One of them muttered low a suggestion as he looked at them, and then his companion nodded. They paused for a moment before one man left, and returned with thinner bonds of rope. This they cautiously wrapped around her front three toes of each foot, binding them all the same. She spat and she roared, and they tied the tail end of one of the current rope to the bedstead. Then, as one they stepped back, leaving her there trussed up like some ancient Fallien mummy, the kenku who would be a baker. She tried to kick her legs apart, but they were as tightly bound as her arms. Her hands - they were barely able to move themselves.

She felt her chest restricting, as if the ties already right around her chest were getting tighter as she screamed, and screamed, and screamed. She death glared, death stared and death gazed, but none of the men looked into her eyes. Together they turned, as one they moved away, out from around the bed and towards the open door to the red room. She barely heard the loud click of the door lock scraping shut, as she yelled to the ceiling.

There as a moment, and then she was plunged into darkness as whatever light had been there flickered out.

[Stare]

The night was full of fitful sleep.

As far as Vitruvion's description had gone, spending the night bound so tightly as Avis had was a punishment indeed. The natural want had been to toss and move in the night, but there was little place to move. The most she could do was turn on her side and bring her legs up slightly to curl into a loose foetal position, but that was merely it. Any further and the ropes would begin to strain and chaff and she would be in pain. Going far also was near impossible, for the binding to the bed restricted how far she could get. In the terror of darkness, when the hours had dragged on, she had realised she needed to releave , and it was only by scooting over to the side of the bed and awkwardly and painfully sitting up that she managed to aim into a chamber pot situated there.

Morning came and she was silent, and had barely slept. Her eventual exhaustion state had made her manage a couple of small naps, but that was all. Eyes half closed and she was lying on her side, back to the door, breathing slowly and steadily. Her mind was mostly dull, her tiredness overwhelming, and so she barely heard the door open and the faint clack clack of the man coming over.

Swimming into her vision Vitruvion's form appeared. He set a chair by the side of the bed, and into he sank, dressed in a sharp black tunic and leggings. He was hazy to Avis but she knew it was him, even just by the faint glory he seemed to radiate. She could spy one of the larger tapestries dominating the wall behind him, the main colour the same rich red as before. And now she could see a light source - a tall burning torch in the corner of the room, caught in a holder, pinned against the wall.

"My dear?" His chocolate voice murmured.

Avis let out a soft moan.

He sighed. "My dear. Awaken now and concentrate on me." His tone was sharper, more insistent.

One of her eyes opened fully, and fixed on his face. Her breathing was shallow and slow.

A soft, satisfied smile passed across the man's face. Once, he nodded and positioned the cane between his two legs holding at the top.

"Good morning, my dear. I trust your sleep was not satisfactory."

Her beak opened slightly and her eyes flashed dark as she swam to consciousness. Vitruvion smirked a little.

"Just so. Now. Yesterday I believe began with distasteful beauty, and so I am now coming to explain things. Once I have done we will see where your attitude lies once more and I shall decide whether or not your punishment shall end." He looked right at her. "Alright?"

Avid barely registered an understanding. All she wanted to do was tear off this man's face with her own beak and that was impossible right now. Vitruvion waited a pregnant moment before taking silence as her acceptance of the conversation. Reclining slightly in the chair he gave a pert nod before going on.

"As you have no doubt learnt this is what we rather blandly, if you ask me, call The Hollow. It is a network of an ancient catacomb that ran beneath a part of the city, made long, long ago." He waved his hand, dismissing the explanation. "Anyway, now of course, my hosts and I, also known as my 'brothers' and I use this place to foster our community. Each of us has his own interests, and intrigues, but all share a delight of the bold and unrelenting guest."

He gave her a splendid smile. With features such as his the beam was resonate and heart warningly inviting. In any other circumstance Avis would have run straight for him, but now ...

[Stare]

He went on.

"You are to join my party along with my two other ladies, Blaze and Reign. You will meet them later, when I feel you are settled enough to be in a duet." He ran his thumb down the side of his cane. "I had another, Hope, but she became ... Well. She is no longer under me. And one of my brothers has taken an interest in Reign. Thus we have agreed to share her, and so I needed another. Raevin found you, managed to transport you here..." He gestured elegantly at her. "Thus, you are here."

He scooped back a strand of hair in front of his face, and looped it behind his ear. His hair was long, blonde like a field of golden wheat under a summer sun. Avis narrowed her eyes slightly, hating herself for constantly being distracted by his appearance but still said nothing, disgusted by nearly every word.

"Now it is tradition here that we and the men name you based on a first impression we have of you. Blaze is called so for her infamous fury and her connection to fire, and Reign is called so for she is the heir to her people, and acts as queenly as one can be." He smiled. "She is a type of rare Fae called a pixie. You may have heard of them." Avis didn't respond. He frowned slightly, but went on. "Now, coming to yourself. My men, and myself, have agreed that what struck us about you at the beginning, was your gaze and your eyes, thus," he grandly spread a hand. "Thus, you are 'Stare.'"

He leant forwards slightly, waiting for her reaction. Avis only growled very low and glared with intense incredulity.

Vitruvion let out a brilliant cry. "Ah ha! Indeed, exactly as I thought. A most excellent name. Thus, you a name, my dear Stare. Welcome to your new home."

He fell silent, relaxing back with aboslute pleasure. Irritated that her look was giving him joy, Avis tore her eyes away from him and turned to face the corner of the wall, where it met the ceiling, and she tried to lose herself in the dead voices of dullness in her head.

"I take it that you like-"

[Stare]

"My name is Avis," she interrupted him in a dark, low voice.

Vitruvion was silent for a moment, and then he answered, his tone becoming uncivil, blunt and hardened.

"No it is not. Not at all. Your name is 'Stare'. To me, to the men, the other women here... Everyone. And if I ever hear you mention the fact you have another name or that name ever again, I'll have you tied here for a week with no food and with drugs to keep you wide awake that entire time, am I understood?"

Avis caught her breath in her chest. One night had been hard enough trussed up like this, but one week... And not able to sleep. She was sure that was near torture if she was honest.

"Stare?!" His eyes were like fire, his tone a thousand threatening knives.

She did not look at him. But her head, and her beak - she dipped it once. A short, staccato note of acceptance before his fury broke truly through.

There was the sound of a small sigh. "Good. Very good. I appreciate all my direct questions being answered straight away. It is one of my 'rules', those things that irritate me the most, that you should never be inclined to do, 'less you wish to suffer my immediate wrath." Even without looking at him Avis knew that this threat was a real one. Vitruvion was serious enough and cruel to not be underestimated.

"Now, your duties will run on a basis of if I wish to see you or not. Some days I will, others I will not. Some nights, when you become trustworthy enough, I will spend here, with you, and some days you will not see me for three or four at the time. Now," he rolled back his shoulders and he took a more comfortable position again. "Your standard duties will be the regular daily entertainment of myself, but over time this may alter. I may need you for an important meeting, or for a journey I must make, to do things such as serve my dinner or other. You will do anything that I request of you, and in return I will be good to you and we shall have a pleasant life together."

A shiver ran slowly down Avis back as she bit back a mournful, wailing cry. As Vitruvion went on, she began to feel more and more in despair, her thoughts lost to the endless tide of the hopeless. For a while the handsome man watched her with a great amount of intrigue, as if he wanted to know and see what was going on in her mind. He leant forwards slightly, nearing her.

Silence. Eyes locked.

He leant back again, shaking his head. Quickly he began to get up, leaving things as they were. "After this conversation ... I deem that you will stay here for another four hours, then I will send my men for you and we will begin discussion on your main every day duties here."

After those words he began to stand, scraping back the chair for a moment, and then taking it by the back to start to carry it. It was as he moved to walk away that Avis decided to speak.

"I want out. Now. I don't want to be part of your sick fantasy."

She growled the words, snapping her beak with finality.

Vitruvion paused for a moment, and then he swung back his head to look at her, a sparkle in his eye. "My dear Stare, that is exactly why I will not let you go. That is why I will keep you here for your foreseeable future."