Things had felt off since everything had gotten back to normal. Or at least-- the normal that he knew. What the fuck that fever dream had been had only reminded him of how hopeless his situation as a slave was. Five centuries he’d been kept. Five fucking centuries. His life as a slave now had only been cemented. This is all he’d ever truly be.
The nephilim was fiddling with the pen he had been using to study the Russian text in his lap before he’d laid backwards on the cot. At footsteps, he glanced over as his hand quickly dropped to hide the pen; worried it was someone like Raiden who’d find some creative use for the item. Instead he was met by the face of Benji. He pushed himself up into a seated position, “Sir...” He cleared his throat then, “Can I do something for you?”
@balerionxtargaryean
