Catarina's shoulders slumped and her eyes rolled miles. Her face soured into a scowl, and she crossed her arms and stood upright. [color=c91414]"Ugh, you take yourself far too seriously. Lighten up, sheesh. Maybe I was right about you being dull,"[/color] she sighed, voice full of exasperation. The facade slipped a little here and her face betrayed genuine emotion. Her eyes gleamed more than usual, her shoulders were tense, her intonation a little [i]too[/i] disappointed. Almost as fast as the emotion showed, she pivoted away, hiding it. [color=c91414]"You have no sense of fun. You really should let loose. We can agree on two things though,"[/color] she said, turning to look Aïtana in the eyes, [color=c91414]"One: I'm not a monster, and two: you should stop wasting your breath."[/color]

She paced back to Aïtana. How to do this? A million possibilities flashed through her mind. In the end, her eyes settled on the scar on Aïtana's cheek. Her hand reached up, hovering, teasing. She could feel the warmth of her cheek. Pure magic flowed into Cata's fingertips, setting off wild tingles and spreading nervous static.

With less than the brush of a fingertip, Catarina released the magic to tear at the nerves in Aïtana's head, overloading her with pain. Forcing her to pass out.[hr]

[center][b]Next Morning[/b][/center]

The new cell had been finished on time, much to Catarina's relief. The particularly weak-willed bound servants had been ordered to refurnish the once cruel chamber into something more hospitable. After all, cruelty and torture is what's expected, and breaking people requires subverting expectations. 

The cell had been transformed into a comfortable study. Several heavy wood bookshelves sat by a lectern, packed full of books by famous philosophers. Discerning viewers would recognise several names among them - Markus Jakober, Renfry Bucholtz, and Estibaliz Gizikis to name a few. Well-read viewers would understand that all of these thinkers were known for their advocacy of decentralised government and rejection of current ideas in the field of ethics. The lectern nursed the most interesting book of all - a red leather bound volume which bore a signature on the flyleaf.

A comfortable feather bed with strong wooden posts sat beside another wall. The candlelight shimmered off the fabric of the silken sheets, interrupted only by Aïtana, who was laid out on top. A dark wooden table stood regally in the center of the cell, attended by two chairs and a candlestick.

There were no shackles or chains. No cruel iron spikes. In fact, the only indication that this was a cell at all was the row of steel bars thick enough to mock the very idea of escape looming in the center of the room. Cata was quite proud of the whole assembly, if she did say so herself.