The priestess' words caught her by surprise.<span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">"A... slave?"</span>Synthia didn't know what it meant to own a slave, at least not for her self. She was used to capturing young organic females and sending them to the mercy of the machines. Some times the women didn't even know what happened when Synthia would catch and trap them by surprise. She was proud that she was good at her job, it allowed her the opportunity to visit different realms and escape her own cold, lifeless world. Unfortunately, she was often summoned back to her own world as soon as the job was done. Her masters were those of logic and efficiency, not subservience and pleasure.<br/><br/>The memories of the battle were still fresh in her memory. The force known as magic that permeated this realm was able to disrupt and even suspend her technological functions for a period of time. The same technological functions that came from the machines themselves. Learning about magic was something that she wanted to do, and she felt like she could safely stay in this world for a long time without the machines sending someone... or something over to capture and disable her.<br/><br/>Her synthetic hand pressed against the cold iron door but before it opened, she set the priestess down on the cold stone floor. Synthia sat next to her by the door her crimson eyes looking into the eyes of Miranda with a stern expression.<span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">"Your name... you have one, do you not?"</span>She asked in her soft feminine but technologically tainted voice, unaware that the chastity belt trap was still pleasuring her new acquaintance. It has been a long time since Synthia had a conversation with another organic being. She was so used to communicating with the tyrannical, ruthless machines of her own time that she forgot how to phrase her thoughts or pick up subtle cues from body language from time to time.<br/><br/>