Ra'kalesh continued with his meal as he listened to Tzirret. To him, the boy had a strange mix of nervousness and curiosity, but he was more than glad to speak to him, even with the state his body was in. It had been months since he had been able to have a conversation that wasn't of some dire nature. "Well, we look like...lions. It is not too much different from your werewolf transformations. You can see a hint of the creature we are based upon, but we are much larger and more powerful. Of course, we do not have quite the size or strength of a werewolf, but we have greater agility. Colors always says that it makes no sense, given how much larger and more fearsome a lion is than a wolf, but Ra'kalesh thinks he understands Hircine's intent. When acting as a pride, we can strike like lightning. Otherwise, I suppose the only difference with werelions is that there is a bit more of a difference between men and women. Male werelions tend to possess a large mane, while females do not. This is no different from the Khajiit themselves, but it is true no matter the race which becomes the werelion. Colors hates the fur." 

Colors' head perked up when he heard his name. He did not mind talking about his pride, especially not that he knew they were all alive. They had endured terrible things, but at least they still had the chance to live. "Ciinriel is Jo'rashaad and S'ajira's daughter. Adopted, of course, but they are as close of a family as any can be. Ciinriel was turned when she was a young child, about ten years ago. At her age, ten years makes a lot of a difference, even for a Bosmer. She couldn't take care of herself then, but as I heard, those two didn't hesitate to take care of her. She is what brought them together. I can't imagine what it was like for them to see their daughter tortured like that; I can understand why Jo'rashaad was willing to beat that scum to death. 

"That's not all it's about." A voice sounded out nearby. One of Colors' pride, La'khay, joined in the conversation. "Their girl was abused in ways much worse than any of us. That prisoner you have tied up to that tree over there, he took a 'liking' to Ciinriel. He liked Bosmer, thought they were pretty, and, well,  you can guess where this one is going with that. It was sickening. Poor girl, La'khay hopes she can pull through. This one has seen other girls who went through the same thing at the place she worked in Senchal, so she knows what it can do to their minds."

For a moment, Colors was speechless, instead glaring over at the prisoner and snarling. "I hope we kill him slowly."

Meesei was fatigued, but the prospect of being able to finally interrogate a prisoner of the enemy was something she did not want to delay. And Gallus, it seemed, was of the same mind. Meesei was still under the effects of a healing potion, so she could walk around with no issue, as long as she did not attempt to do anything too strenuous. She spoke quietly to Gallus as she observed their bound prisoner. "Yes. The fact that he surrendered instead of taking his own life means he is not a zealot, so while he is likely not high-ranking, he may be more-easily persuaded to divulge information. We can ask him about the enemy's plans, it is entirely likely he may not even know anything beyond his direct orders. The most valuable information I reason we can get out of him is the strength of the enemy forces, and perhaps some locations. Now come, we should deal with him as soon as possible."

Stepping in front of the bound prisoner, Meesei stood with a strong posture. Although it would heal entirely in time, the scar on her stomach was still visible. At this stage, it looked like an old wound, which could perhaps even be somewhat intimidating. She spoke up with a firm, authoritative voice. "Remove his blindfold; I want him to see me."