And now that same care and attention will be paid to Vena. His new master? In a sense, Vena likes to think.

As Feurian draws ever closer, Vena's eyes slowly climb higher, taking in the full height and size of the elf in front of him. Were another in Vena's place, they might feel intimidated by the looming presence. Vena is not so easily intimidated, however. Not when he knows that he holds all the power here.

Reaching out toward the elf, Vena runs his fingers over the soft silk, gathering some of it in his hand and tugging on it gently before letting it fall back into place. Such lovely silks will look beautiful discarded in the corner. Or perhaps he'll instruct Feurian to keep them on. He always did enjoy the feel of silk against his bare skin. The beautiful elf draped in silks, draped over him. Delightful.

Vena rights himself in the chair just enough to allow him to easily lift his leg from the arm, pressing it more into Feurian's light touch. "And yet there you stand." Further up, he lifts his leg so he can plant his bare foot in the middle of Feurian's chest, using it to push the elf back to give himself barely enough room to stand. He climbs to his feet, his body brushing against Feurian's as he does, then shrugs out of his robe, allowing the sheer fabric to pool around his feet.

"Show me why you have so many devoted clients. Show me what makes you the favourite."