Giriel's heart skips a beat when the scribe begins speaking. And then when Piripiri brings her hand forward, it simply sinks to her feet. There's no shot of adrenaline, no burst of defensiveness. She simply slumps. She'd known of the possibility of course, and Piripiri had been nursing her wound, it wouldn't have been hard to notice. But she had hoped that...that she'd be believed. That after all this, after all she'd done, the way Red Wolf had celebrated her, she had hoped for the benefit of the doubt, had even been confident in it. Drunk and relaxed and willing to simply share what she knew. 

But no. She had committed sacrilege for dark magic, and though it had won their freedom, that was how it was going to be. Perhaps she ought to run. Or to fight and make a show of herself. But that too seemed pointless. Cathak Agata, the Red Wolf had them all in her jaws and a small army at her beck and call. For all her strength and learning, Giri was not a fighter, she had barely even begun to study the sort of magic that would let her be a fighter, and it seemed a damn fool's errand to try it now. Besides that, she wouldn't give the damn scribe the satisfaction of watching her struggle. Twice now, twice she'd been in the presence of this heavenly spirit and all that had happened was all her affairs thrown into disarray. She would not, not, [i]not[/i] let it happen a third time. 

So she simply let the guards approach her. She deserved her punishment, deserved to suffer for what she'd done. She should never have trusted that she'd be believed, that when it actually came to something hard to swallow that anyone would trust her skills, her learning, or her experience. No, she was an idiot for believing in Red Wolf that way. She'd known it too, and been lulled anyway. She was...

...a jolt went through her at Red Wolf's words. She shouldn't. Shouldn't trust. Shouldn't believe. It was a fool's errand. But, she wanted to so badly. She wanted to trust Red Wolf, wanted to be close to her. Her thighs and her chest ached to be close to her, to curl in upon her and rest her head upon those strong shoulders and snuggle close. She wanted it desperately and so she believed when she shouldn't.

When the guards approached, she let them bind and gag her. As a witch, the binding is significantly more thorough than it might be for a regular prisoner. The guards pull her arms behind her and tie them with Agata's well-made silk ropes. First hands closed around each other and then tied around the wrists tight enough that she can't pull her hands apart to prevent any sort of magical signs and gestures. Then again just above the elbows so that she can't move her arms away from her body nor her hands up from her butt. The cloth gag they stuff into her mouth so she cannot speak any spells and then bind it with one of Agata's red silk scarves behind her head so she cannot speak beyond a moan and can utter no spells. And finally there is the blindfold, this too of red silk wrapped twice about her eyes so she cannot see through it to remark upon her confines or be able to call upon the local gods that might reside with her. 

Her trust, then, is to not only accept the inevitable but to relax into this. Had she known that she was following the best teachings of Piripiri, perhaps the two would have felt greater sympathy. But regardless, there is nothing more for her. Robbed of two senses, she is led by the guards not unkindly. One pulls her direction by a rope and the second stands by her side so that she doesn't trip as they escort her from the hall to be even more at the Red Wolf's mercy than she already was.