@heirofemer that 'Freedom' is something that couldn't be taken off him. That it was his essence, what made him so intriguing in the first place.
"You'd feel lonely?" Barely a wishper. A genuine question that doesn't have to be conveyed with so much gentleness. Feyre traced his thumb bellow—
"You know, if you really liked it here."
Before he started to taint him and Aslan became unenjoyable. "Or if you wanna be. Free. I have many ways to keep you within my radar even if—"
It was harder to imagine. But he had started, might as well end it corectly.—
His mother looked at him differently since then.
Now he is spiralling. Feyre stopped his steps abruptly.
"Do you want to stay here?" came out more simpler than what he intended to ask.
should left his mouth.
"I'm a bit tired." he told Aslan. To buy time. They still spun around the room like a pair of wind-up toys that he used to play with in his mother's study.
It was made of porcelain. He broke its arms apart before long.—
An oversway—his steps halted a beat, but he saved it with grace. Another spin. He let his grip loose.
"You know." he started, ignoring a feeling waiting to be processed, "No, not that—" he restarted.
"Aslan, do you like this place?"
@heirofemer
It won't be for long. He had believed it wouldn't be long before he changed him to fit his mold, to be the perfect specimen inside his twisted collection.
But it had been years, and he still remained a constant.
Something that he wouldn't admit; Aslan is different.