...OF THE ESTEEMED LORD ESSEK THELYSS (UN: SHADOWHAND), FIRST OF THEIR NAME, HAILING FROM THE REALM OF CRITICAL ROLE, RESIDING, AT PRESENT, IN THE GRAND CRESENT. SINGLE.
[There's a moment where he goes stiffer, as if that was possible. Muscles lock up and he freezes. It's not the touch that makes him baulk so. It's the praise. He's given his everything to earn even the smallest scraps of praise from his Master in the past. He wants more than anything to be told he's done well, that he's been useful. But Ikithon had been very sparing on it. Purposely starving him of it because he must have known how far Eadwulf would go, how low he would crawl, how dirty he would make himself, to earn even the smallest speck it. And such an intense devotion, a single minded desire to serve, to please the his teacher, it must have fed the Archmage's narcissistic ego very well. So he received it so rarely that he honestly doesn't know what to do with it or how euphoric hearing it makes him feel when he's in such a vulnerable state.
But there are delicate scholar's fingers in hair that he still butchers to an unsightly crop and he's being petted. It should be degrading, to be all but treated like a dog, but he likes it. He's being praised. He likes that even more. Then the pain comes. Just pinpricks of sharp pleasure at his scalp. The low keening noise he makes surprises even himself as he all but melts into it, boneless but still somehow still upright. His voice a dreamy sigh of relief.]
Thank you, Shadowhand.
[There is a reverence in his tone as he surrenders into the pleasure that comes from both the praise and the pain. The hinting of something almost worshipful in it's promised obedience.
He won't ask for more. He accepts what the Shadowhand will give him, in punishment or in reward and will be happy for whatever he is given.]
[Essek wasn't one much for touch, he was rather adverse to it to be honest, but he knew that Eadwulf needed something to reground him, so petting his cropped hair was something he was willing to do. The keen surprises him, but to see the man melt into the moment and the praise, Essek can't help but feel pity for him.
A pity that is more empathetic than he would ever admit.
But Essek knew what it was like to want praise so badly and never receive it, to feel deprived of the one fleeting thing that would give you solace.
The tone makes Essek a touch nervous, he doesn't want to be this man's new master, even said as much, but he does still feel that pity and cannot find it in himself to reject the man in this moment. No, Eadwulf needed something stable to lean against as he received what he was never allowed to have before, what he didn't have the self ego to give himself.
Essek passes his hand through the man's hair a couple more times, offering the drag of his nails against scalp, allowing the man the full benefit of reward, before fully retreating his hand and self from Eadwulf's personal space.]
You've been very good, Eadwulf, now go rest before the day starts.
[He says nothing about the piece of paper, the man can keep it or throw it away, he has no care about it.]
[Each pet, each bite of nails brings a small shiver to him. However, he doesn't chase after the touch when it departs. He has been trained too well. He can't demand more than what he's given. He can only be grateful for it.
In this moment, he would do anything. He would do anything that Essek said. If the Shadowhand hadn't had complete authority over him before, he certainly did right now. Just that smallest bit of praise had him so malleable. Any order given would be completed without question and without hesitation. He could be ordered to do anything, anything at all and he would do it gladly and readily.
But the drow doesn't take advantage. Instead, Eadwulf hear the order on the end of that praise he basks in. He can only open his eyes, only now aware of how he'd closed them to truly enjoy the feel of the nails against his scalp, to truly let those words he longed to hear washing over him. The absolute obedience in his eyes is eerily reminiscent of those times long past, when Essek might have seen this man standing behind Ikithon. A sword in it's sheith, waiting and wanting to be put to use.]
Yes Shadowhand. [He straightens up. Catches his breath. The paper vanishes within the confines of wrist pocket without even thinking about it. It's so he can bow to the man, a sharp thing, one hand in a fist over his heart in salute, heels clicking together as he bends.] Thank you, Shadowhand.
[He means it. The thanks, even if it's tainted a little by how he's been affected by this. The punishment was well done and now he can start to rebuild the trust of the alliance. The trust of this drow that he won't violate their agreement around Caleb again. But once he's bowed properly, he will go, as ordered. He will go and rest and probably have some of the best sleep he's gotten since he's arrived in this place.]
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But there are delicate scholar's fingers in hair that he still butchers to an unsightly crop and he's being petted. It should be degrading, to be all but treated like a dog, but he likes it. He's being praised. He likes that even more. Then the pain comes. Just pinpricks of sharp pleasure at his scalp. The low keening noise he makes surprises even himself as he all but melts into it, boneless but still somehow still upright. His voice a dreamy sigh of relief.]
Thank you, Shadowhand.
[There is a reverence in his tone as he surrenders into the pleasure that comes from both the praise and the pain. The hinting of something almost worshipful in it's promised obedience.
He won't ask for more. He accepts what the Shadowhand will give him, in punishment or in reward and will be happy for whatever he is given.]
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A pity that is more empathetic than he would ever admit.
But Essek knew what it was like to want praise so badly and never receive it, to feel deprived of the one fleeting thing that would give you solace.
The tone makes Essek a touch nervous, he doesn't want to be this man's new master, even said as much, but he does still feel that pity and cannot find it in himself to reject the man in this moment. No, Eadwulf needed something stable to lean against as he received what he was never allowed to have before, what he didn't have the self ego to give himself.
Essek passes his hand through the man's hair a couple more times, offering the drag of his nails against scalp, allowing the man the full benefit of reward, before fully retreating his hand and self from Eadwulf's personal space.]
You've been very good, Eadwulf, now go rest before the day starts.
[He says nothing about the piece of paper, the man can keep it or throw it away, he has no care about it.]
no subject
In this moment, he would do anything. He would do anything that Essek said. If the Shadowhand hadn't had complete authority over him before, he certainly did right now. Just that smallest bit of praise had him so malleable. Any order given would be completed without question and without hesitation. He could be ordered to do anything, anything at all and he would do it gladly and readily.
But the drow doesn't take advantage. Instead, Eadwulf hear the order on the end of that praise he basks in. He can only open his eyes, only now aware of how he'd closed them to truly enjoy the feel of the nails against his scalp, to truly let those words he longed to hear washing over him. The absolute obedience in his eyes is eerily reminiscent of those times long past, when Essek might have seen this man standing behind Ikithon. A sword in it's sheith, waiting and wanting to be put to use.]
Yes Shadowhand. [He straightens up. Catches his breath. The paper vanishes within the confines of wrist pocket without even thinking about it. It's so he can bow to the man, a sharp thing, one hand in a fist over his heart in salute, heels clicking together as he bends.] Thank you, Shadowhand.
[He means it. The thanks, even if it's tainted a little by how he's been affected by this. The punishment was well done and now he can start to rebuild the trust of the alliance. The trust of this drow that he won't violate their agreement around Caleb again. But once he's bowed properly, he will go, as ordered. He will go and rest and probably have some of the best sleep he's gotten since he's arrived in this place.]