[b]Interrogation Room One[/b]

She rocks back as if slapped. Stops, and holds up a finger. Give her a minute, Uusha, she's realizing how far she's stuck her foot in her mouth.

She's not being fair. None of this was fair, one of them was a prisoner who was set to be shipped to the Lamentation and the other had bruises from her liege's displeasure still on her back. But how rare the chance to be fair means one has an obligation to seize it ever the harder.

She lets out a breath, half-snort, half-chuckle. "You are correct. This isn't some unique hell that was inflicted on me. And it should not be something I focused on you. For that I apologize. It was still a wrong, but," she tosses a hand to the side, what are you to do here? "this isn't the place to address it, nor are you the one to address it with." She pauses, musing. "But I suspect, here, that you are overestimating what will happen to you. It's very similar to what would have happened to me, I suspect, had the Red Wolf not been there as we exited Hell. So, let me tell you a story, then. As redress for my lashing out."

"Let's talk about the fall of Hymair."

She's checking over Uusha for any other damage as she goes, smaller cuts and bruises getting tended to with quick, clever hands. "My country has existed for quite some time. The Eleven Houses draw their claim back to dragons' blood, and they throw daughters of dragons often enough to have merit to the claim. The genealogy, mind, draws from myth as much as record. It has been so, so long since dragons walked the world. And so the basic structure lies as such. The Houses defend the country from the ancient enemy's raids. We keep the Great-Uncle sleeping and quiet, and lead and guide. But the right to do all of this depends on that bloodline. Enough spiritual strength to be able to do all these things. And so, when the Dominion traders first showed, we were delighted, for we were not alone."

She's got more here to say, Uusha, but are you being a good listener?

[b]Piripiri's Cabin[/b]

She looks you over, your hair, your outfit, your hands. She's watching you openly, trying to suss out any lies, and you can feel the wood of the chair arm fill with essence: is she checking your pulse through the chair? She is.

"I will, of course, need some level of collaboration for that claim."

[quote]10 on figuring out Zhaojun. How can I get you to show your hand? And what do you love most?[/quote]