The moments pass quickly, or slowly. She can't tell, because time doesn't mean anything for her at the moment. From her floating perspective, Piripiri waits, and then at some point later, watches. A new woman enters the room, a warlock, in charge and insecure about it, overcompensating. Azazuka attempts petty defiance and by doing so, gives her a chance to exert her authority. A reinforcing loop, it's how you break somebody to your will. There will be sugar, later, to convince the merchant compliance is rewarded, with defiance punished. Keep it up long enough, if you are skilled enough, and anyone will fall, to the conditioning or death. Piripiri doubts the warlock's skill here, though they are in Hell. She would doubtless have tutors.

And then Ven (though she does not know her name yet, she will learn it in the flow of things) turns to Piripiri and the passive waiting is over. Insults, yes. Demeaning, humiliating even, but the barbs fail to find their mark. She floats above them, uncaring, unimpressed. She looks up at Ven as the thumb presses the gag slightly deeper. "Plain. Unimportant. Disposable." These are true words, in a way. She's a tool. Even then...

Even then, she stares back into Ven's eyes, disdainful. She has lived honor. She has fought for her family and her land, navigated the politics of the academy, bleed and done terrible things. But she has never given up. This warlock, she's forfeited. She took the easy path, the path that any sucker could take, and calls herself special for it, for having bought power at the cost of kneeling to the Broken King. She gave up on the idea that she could fix things.

Piripiri stares up into her eyes, from within the binding ropes, torn leggings and tunic paling beside Azazuka's finery and Ven's infernal wardrobe, and her gaze burns. Her thoughts can clearly be read in her face.

How pathetic.

[quote]That's a 10 on enticing. This will be as fun and unhealthy as a drunken run to White Castle for food.[/quote]