The Marionette-bound Practitioner peered bemusedly at the young, brown-robed woman who now hung chained to the wall of his former Workshop by a slew of Abyssal Ribbons. “... Now, girl. This, despite its recent vacancy, is my residence. It was rather uncouth of you to simply claim it as your own.” He gestured towards her neck and the Ribbon that restrained it tightened around the stalk. “Now, any sane, ostracized Practitioner would simply kill you now, but... I think I have a few soft spots, left.” The paper-thin noose loosened again. “Two option,” he paused for a moment to affirm she was listening. “One, I kill you, or two, you remain here as my servant and I'll leave you be.” The fear evident in the girl's hazel eyes told him everything, but he awaited an answer regardless.
“Y-Yes, yes, I will, I'm sorry, please, l-let go...” The woman no further into adulthood than her late teens was almost sobbing; Rigan found it somewhat entertaining, but also didn't desire her to die of a heart attack. The black material relented and slowly evaporated into the darkness of the den, dropping her heedlessly to the wooden floor, narrowly missing the carpet. She scrambled into an upright position, then dropped to her knees in fear, bowing her head deeply. “I di-”
The stout man wrapped a shadowy cloak interrupted her with a lifted finger. “Silence. Let us be clear...” The sickly white finger drifts over to an old armchair. “That is your bed at night. You will vacate it in the day, whenever I wish to sit in it. You will vacate my study, as it is without a doubt my study, and you will take care of yourself and keep out of my way.” The finger trails along towards the doorway which leads to the Workshop proper. “As a Practitioner myself, I realize the importance of a Workshop, so I will allow you use of mine, so long as you disturb nothing that is being used or belonging to me. You will feed yourself and clean yourself, as it is none of my business and I, honestly, don't care. You will follow my orders, should I feel inclined to give them. Are we clear?” He narrowed his gray eyes at the trembling girl.
It seemed as if she had expected far worse punishment, as it took a few dire moments for all the instructions to sink in before she finally responded with a meek “Y-Yes, sir.” The bizarre man's eyes were fear-inducing as if he were a demon, so she continued to gaze down at the floor submissively, dirty blond hair hanging down in front of her face.
“... Girl. Vacate my study, now. I have things to record and perform.” A Ribbon lashed out at slapped her on the head, ushering her off with a muffled wail and nod. Once the needy thing was out of his sight, he just shook his head and gazed at the flameless fireplace. “Pathetic, what sort of Practitioners do they train, nowadays? Not a hint of classicism about her!” He grunted to himself, then absentmindedly set the dusty wood ablaze with some enchanted ash from the pouch on the mantle. “Doesn't even know how to use fire dust... Bah.” The grumpy man was about to carelessly brush all the girl's belongings off the mantle, but paused long enough to somewhat-carefully toss a framed picture onto the armchair before he swiped the rest off. “Tch...” Annoyed mutters filled the air, however they stopped the moment he heard footsteps behind him. “Your things.” A dismissive gesture to the pile on the warming carpet before he swooped past her towards his study. Who knows what the brat had managed to ruin in there!
She, on the other hand, hurriedly went about gathering up her things, slightly surprised the picture wasn't shattered, and disappeared into the Workshop to find a place to safely stow her belongings, at least until she worked up the nerve to leave. Could she leave? Would he let her leave? The mere thought filled her frame with dread as she recalled the sneer on his face the moment he ensnared her. How had he returned, anyhow...? Rigan the Black Crow had been dead for decades, yet he returned now, vandalizing her things and carrying about. Had such a man found a means of cheating death, or had he merely faked it? He didn't even look old! Her hands still trembling from what had happened, she simply went about trying to correct her day after the disturbance.