Washed away

She frowned at the water as he directed her attention back to it. He expected her to consume it? She looked from it, to Ollie once more. He wasn’t much bigger than she was, but she was exhausted and weak, and the little tiny movements she had made so far had cost her. There was no way she could stop him from overpowering her if he chose to. Keeping what little dignity she had left, she held her breath and drank a fair portion of the witches brew. Hopefully enough to satisfy him. She put it back down again, ignoring the sweet after taste on her tongue. She didn’t know what it would do to her, and if he thought it would make her malleable… it didn’t really matter. She would do what he wanted anyway. Helpless, helpless. It was a state she was well accustomed to.

She huffed a soft laugh at his follow up question. The irony! But he didn’t know it. “My sin was escaping. My mother was dying, her last wish…” she remembered that scrawny, bruised and battered body. The awful, body-shaking cough. But the steel was still there, in her mothers eye. The strength Vesper knew she could never match. “I was their property, and I left.” she concluded. She looked up a little higher, almost to his eye level. “Am I your property now, Sir Oleander?”

"Speech"