The man's approach sent chills down her spine but she did not relent. Standing proudly, haughtily before her fellow captive she followed his every movement. When his palms kissed the stone, encircling her in his muscular confines- a cell within a cell, she merely glared back at him. She could conjure a spell to place her cellmate to sleep but such would only prove a short reprieve and worse, it likely would spill outwards into other cells and possibly draw the attention of the warden. Such scrutiny would be problematic unless she decided instead to give up and make her stay more comfortable by taking the warden as a lover. She wasn't there yet. She'd had her fill of being imprisoned, had spent her first few decades of life as a slave in a household.

It took nearly everything she had, concealing her cowardice. What she truly wished was to flee but to where? She felt the urge to toy with her long golden tresses, to adjust her ill fitting outfit, to do anything to distract herself from the confrontation hazarding her.

"You assume much," Assallya Kressair stated as she stared the man fully in the eye, as unflinching as the storm before a caravel "I let those that took me assume my magics were spent down to the last circle and what little remains I would reserve for an escape. I would not care to explain your charred corpse to yon guards for surely I would be better searched and my few remaining reagents plundered. How then would I escape?"