Maria's song faded as the door was flung open. She braced herself before the slap. At least he was predictable. He was also predictable in how he threw a tantrum, gagging her while yelling questions at her. Just how was she supposed to respond?

She waited for him to wind down, like the child he was. He did, sort of, in that he removed the gag. "If you are finished with the name-calling," she said, regretting her tone but not apologizing. She would just pay for it later with more pain. That was another way he was predictable. "I am a singer. Music is my life-blood. They are what make up my inner self, my entire being. I sing what comes to me from my emotions. I heard that song many years ago, while I was in Tortuga. I remember it being haunting and beautiful, so I asked the girl to teach it to me."

She paused a moment, really looking at him. There was something in his eyes... something more then anger. Not weakness exactly... more like... resentment maybe? The song must have something to do with his past. Why else would he react so strongly to it?
Her first thought was to sing it again and louder, but her own nature wouldn't let her. "I did not sing to spite you," she said in a low voice. "I always sing it when I am sad."
Thoughts of Lucian and Alistair filled her mind and she wanted to cry, but forced the feeling away. Now was not the time. Not in front of him.

The little female looked down at the corpse on the floor. Although it made her sick to do it, she knew what the right thing to do was. "Thank you for the meal," she said, forcing the words out. "I do not relish how I got it or how... animalistic I became while feeding, but I do know how to show appreciation."

She winced, hissing a bit as some of her deeper wounds were healing. It hurt like a bitch. If she ever got her hands on that Goblin....
Once the worst of the pain was over she slumped back down against the hard surface she was tied to. Her limbs felt stiff from being in the same position for so long, her bare body streaked with blood and sweat, her hair messy and tangled.

When she looked at her captor again, her eyes held no anger or bite. They just looked tired and weary.
"I suppose a shower would be too much to ask?" she said, her voice tired but with a trace of hope. She hated feeling dirty and sticky, hated not being able to brush her hair.