Blood hued eyes observed silently from within the frame of polished obsidian skin. Highlights of violet danced with the varying lights across that dark, dark skin, as viridescent opals shone against the bright sparkle of silver filigree draped along a slender neck. Dark, healthy curves of a well maintained servant were all framed by snowy white hair... This was Isir, newest addition to the House of Pol. The demure, unconventional drowess.
Unlike most drow, Isir held not the temperament of her dark elven brethren. Romax had acquired quite the gem, for she'd been found a runaway, already decently polished; although crudely. With the Dark Force imbued choker, the dark sister's training would be fairly smooth. Whispered words of the rare creature's escape had piqued the Madman's mild interest, no doubt unwilling to let such a thing be allowed; a slave run away, how amusing.
The battle for the tormented mind of said runaway took time well into the dark night and was forced from the Red Dragon Inn, and in the end she chose her lifelong familiarity of servitude over the daunting prospect of freedom; though one could not doubt there was hefty persuasion of the Force involved, Isir came willingly to the dark family of Pol.
Having been shown her alloted space within the Asylum Club, the submissive drowess felt a small flicker of warmth growing within her that she'd never felt before. Dark, slender fingers brushed the delicate token about her neck as she was left to her bed and trundle to adjust for a moment. It was mentioned she was to be properly toured and then cleaned, but was being graciously allowed this small reprieve. Sitting on the bed, she marveled at it's softness, warmed and overwhelmed all at once at her new Master's, dare she even think the word; kindness?
Thoughts traveled, bidden and unbidden, through the dark woman's head. One in particular rang clear as untainted crystal though; she would serve willingly, for the first time in her life. Though there were doubts her reception was a sweet farce, that First Sister and Master's pretty words and kind gestures were prelude to darker times, for the moment, she let herself believe in this small hope that she would at long last have a family.
Unlike most drow, Isir held not the temperament of her dark elven brethren. Romax had acquired quite the gem, for she'd been found a runaway, already decently polished; although crudely. With the Dark Force imbued choker, the dark sister's training would be fairly smooth. Whispered words of the rare creature's escape had piqued the Madman's mild interest, no doubt unwilling to let such a thing be allowed; a slave run away, how amusing.
The battle for the tormented mind of said runaway took time well into the dark night and was forced from the Red Dragon Inn, and in the end she chose her lifelong familiarity of servitude over the daunting prospect of freedom; though one could not doubt there was hefty persuasion of the Force involved, Isir came willingly to the dark family of Pol.
Having been shown her alloted space within the Asylum Club, the submissive drowess felt a small flicker of warmth growing within her that she'd never felt before. Dark, slender fingers brushed the delicate token about her neck as she was left to her bed and trundle to adjust for a moment. It was mentioned she was to be properly toured and then cleaned, but was being graciously allowed this small reprieve. Sitting on the bed, she marveled at it's softness, warmed and overwhelmed all at once at her new Master's, dare she even think the word; kindness?
Thoughts traveled, bidden and unbidden, through the dark woman's head. One in particular rang clear as untainted crystal though; she would serve willingly, for the first time in her life. Though there were doubts her reception was a sweet farce, that First Sister and Master's pretty words and kind gestures were prelude to darker times, for the moment, she let herself believe in this small hope that she would at long last have a family.