[center][color=FF0000][h2]Morann Arnhar | Cell 098 [/h2][/color] Morann growled at the voice that bounced off the cells. For that was all they could be. Badly wrought iron, bad food, worse sleeping conditions. It was just like her former Temple home. The Sith acolyte sneered as she sat up, testing her bindings. They allowed limited movement and were an annoyance. Keeping her just out of reach of the meat. Even raw, meat was meat. It was to her knowledge, meat was better than any half rotten greenery. So, seizing it in her teeth she dragged it in reach of her hands and proceeded to tear at it hungrily. It was when she was devouring her 'prize', a voice called out agian. Younger, and far less imposing. [i]"Anyone else there?"[/i] It was near. Near enough it gave her pause to listen for footsteps, hoping some fool would open the door and take pity on a poor young girl. A fault several of her fellows back at the Temple never lived past learning their error. The 'young, weak female' was so easy to pull on the foolish. Shaking her black hair away from her face, she felt blood ooze from the back of her skull. The smugglers had clocked her upside the head good enough to cause a headache, but she was able to push it to the back on her list of things to give a crap about. She answered slowly. Her voice pitching slightly to sound higher and a frightened. Oh she was worried in truth. But real fear was something she had been beaten out of her lest it was life or death. This- was not that. Not yet. "Where are we?" Pausing for a second, Morann continued letting accusation slip into her pitched voice. "Are you one of them?" She peered down at the collar with her yellow eyes in distaste. How unsatisfactory this situation was. [/center] [@Sketcher]