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[h3]Guillan- Royal Complex Dungeons, Morning..[/h3]
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       Y'Vanna felt the angst of her cellmate, as it matched her own.  The [i]"Loud One"[/i] was little more than a fleshy exacerbation, a mar on the already stressful predicament.  She lifted a hand and it almost came to rest on Gail's shoulder as if to comfort him, but she withdrew it at the last second thinking it too forward. He had doe so much to help her with her wound, and she was grateful for it.  She was grateful to have him as a friend and didn't want to come off in an awkward way.  She thought it best to keep her distance. Still she shared his anxiety, their anxiety..

       she stood and the throbbing returned as the blood coursing through her head pounded as she did. It was momentary, and possibly brought on by her quick action.  She had taken an interest in the young sorcerer next to them..  She moved to the bars and knelt, having exhausted the length of chain between her and Gail. She placed her hands on the cold iron bars and watched as he shifted his diagrams and symbols, thinking him an odd soul to say the least.  She watched for a moment before she decided to speak.

      [color=f7941d]"Hello."[/color]  she said softly.  Her words came off as would the sound of a mother speaking to a child.

      She did not wish to frighten the poor boy, and did her best to sound as soothing as possible. She knew he was odd, but she couldn't put a finger on exactly how odd or what the extent of his peculiarities.  She had no intentions of eating the porridge, or was it mortar?  At any rate the smell was just as disgusting and intolerable to her stomach as was the sight of it.  She couldn't see how anyone would be willing to entertain the thought of actually consuming it.  Her attention shifted briefly to the two opposite them as they seemed to be making some sort of alliance together. It was only a brief distraction though, and her attention soon returned to the symbol maker.

      [color=f7941d]"What is your name?"[/color]  she said in the same soft tone as before..

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      Vallec came down the stairs and crossed the threshold of the dungeons.  His movements were quiet and calculated.  His armor, a mixture of studded leather and fine plating was well made, and offered no sound.  He moved to a bench near some barrels and out of sight to the others. He had his doubts about the party, but it mattered little.. they were on hand and would have to do.  He would sit and eaves drop to see what he could learn.  They had all been chosen, selected for various reasons, and each of them had been hand picked by himself, not the King.  Vallec smirked at the thought of it.. The King was a bumbling buffoon in his eyes, an unfit and lenient ruler.. [i]soft[/i].    He took his left had and began to pull off his leather gloves, one after the other, pulling meticulously at each finger. He did enjoy the fineness of his attire, as his vanity was as well known as his bite was.  He had time to gain a bit of knowledge as the last of them was yet to be subdued, but would surely be on the way. 

      He wondered if the party had any idea as to why they were there, and not in the magistrates quarters or the Capitol complex, as would have been customary.  Surely, some of them were seasoned enough criminals to have noticed this, and would have at least been curious as to why.  To what the extent of their curiosity was hew could only speculate, but it hardly mattered. They were there and that was all that did in his mind.  

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