Zhuang getting some forced rest, dealers choice on if it’s sexy, sad or tender flavored
"Is this truly necessary?" Fangyi flicks her tail's tip toward herself on 'this'—it's all she can move, with the current state of the harness, but even that stills when a familiar, firm hand comes to grasp it. Her mouth dries further when fingertips curve, resting where the smallest scales part for sleek hairs.
"Apparently, Fangyi." Their voice fondly dry, she still feels the look beneath the still-necessary mask, longer braided strands falling to reveal the shorter ones below. It's a newer look for the Endmin, but one Fangyi doesn't dislike. Far from it.
Her distraction's apparent; their other hand grips her chin, and brooks no argument in forcing her to look at their face. "What your people asked me, was to ensure that you relaxed, as your appointees settled into their roles. To ensure they properly tasted what the future would hold. I took that seriously, of course. So no one else is currently assigned to this facility." The sweep of their hand encompasses the gentle hum and hiss of the machines, their hydraulic components in steady motion, before dropping back down, down to the last piece of the harness they'd yet to place, the bands of the bridle that'd tighten over her face, about her horns, the bit that would muffle all her speech, until her Endmin determined it right. "You can simply focus, on doing what I ask.
"So will you listen now to me? 宜宜."
And to that tender, ravenous turn of her name, she can only nod, and follow.
