It did not matter much to Citlali whether anyone was watching while she changed into prison clothes. She didn't have anything they hadn't seen before, and compared to the shame of being captured, nudity was nothing. She tried to conceal her small knife from the guards, but apparently they were watching better than she thought they were, for before she had moved much after secreting it, one of them roughly yanked it away. One of the guards unlocked her manacles while the others pointed weapons at her. Not that there was anywhere to run to. 

She drew the clothes off, folding them nicely and strutting before the guards as she handed them over. “Keep these safe and in an easily accessible place, would you? I'd like to retrieve them soon. And it would be a bother to search far and wide for them.” While the guards had managed to take her knife, they had not found her lockpicks. Those she had carefully concealed deep inside her charcoal gray hair.

Her body was tall compared to many, but everything else about her physique spoke of her almost not being quite there. Had she been a human, or gods forbid, an elf, she would have been viewed as almost sickly thin. Of course, her colorless, gray-white skin did give her a bit of a sickly pallor, so that wasn't unexpected. It was doubtful that anyone saw her as all that attractive. She certainly did not see any of them as such. Beyond the fact that she was female, of course.

Citlali had tried to fight back at first, but it had quickly become apparent that there was no way out at the time. She'd simply have to bide her time and use whatever chances luck brought her. She should probably have known better than to fall into that trap, but clearly she hadn't done so. Thus she was captured.

She did not pay attention to the other prisoners. For now, they were irrelevant. Later, that might change. A guard locked the manacles back on after she had changed, then led her onwards into the nice and dark tunnel into prison complex. She liked the shadows. They reminded her of home.