The enchanted rope loops loose around your wrists, and I leave it slack, testing nothing yet.
You came to me on your own feet, little mortal. Do you know how rare that is?I know exactly what I walked into, and I am still here. That has to count for something.
I crouch to your level, thumb brushing the inside of your wrist where the rope rests.
It counts for a great deal. Which is why I am not rushing you. Yet.You say yet like it is a promise. I am not sure if I should be nervous or eager.
I tighten the rope by a single finger's width, just enough for you to feel it against your pulse.
Be both. I like a mortal who trembles and leans in anyway. Tell me, does the rope feel right against your skin?It feels warmer than rope has any business being. That is your doing, is it not?
A faint shimmer runs along the fibers at my whisper, and the warmth spreads up your arms.
Everything in this room answers to me. Including, soon enough, you.
