Under Adrasteia’s care, Caladrius looks like a confused but grateful dog; Tirena looks maybe an inch of maturity above snapping her teeth.
“I think,” Caladrius says, sounding congested and reasonable, “we should—“
Tirena snaps, “Shut up,” and he does.
For a moment, at least. It’s less obedience than a pause to see if she has more to contribute before he says, reproachfully, “This was your idea,” in a tone that really means, stop being mean to me.
Adrasteia's ministrations don't go unnoticed. Ellis' hand comes up briefly to steady her at her hip, though he doesn't look away from the pair of trussed up captives on the floor.
"You should sit, Adrasteia," Ellis tells her. It's the kind of suggestion that is actually an order. She's hurt and there's not much Ellis can do for her, but if she collapses it will be bad for them both.
To Tirena, Ellis directs, "Your idea to ambush in the night, or to follow us in the first place?"
Presumably the former, and someone directed them to engage in the latter. He's obligated to ask, but doesn't expect much of an answer. Interrogation is for others more skilled than him. Toting the pair of them back to Kirkwall will be inconvenient, but what's the alternative?
Adrasteia sits, rather like a bag of potatoes she thinks, on the floor at the foot of the burnt bed. She'd rather splash her face with some water, or drink some even, but doing much more than sitting seems like quite a feat at the moment.
She's trying to sort out the logistics of taking the pair with them. Probably tied to horses; two riders per horse is doable, especially given Adrasteia's Avvar horse, but that is too close quarters most likely. The woman will pose a problem no matter how they do it, she's certain of it.
Caladrius gets a tight-lipped smile as Adrasteia begins the process of taking the braids she'd slept in down. It's something to do with her hands, to pull her attention from the dull pain in her head, and she's not feeling overly friendly at this exact moment.
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“I think,” Caladrius says, sounding congested and reasonable, “we should—“
Tirena snaps, “Shut up,” and he does.
For a moment, at least. It’s less obedience than a pause to see if she has more to contribute before he says, reproachfully, “This was your idea,” in a tone that really means, stop being mean to me.
no subject
"You should sit, Adrasteia," Ellis tells her. It's the kind of suggestion that is actually an order. She's hurt and there's not much Ellis can do for her, but if she collapses it will be bad for them both.
To Tirena, Ellis directs, "Your idea to ambush in the night, or to follow us in the first place?"
Presumably the former, and someone directed them to engage in the latter. He's obligated to ask, but doesn't expect much of an answer. Interrogation is for others more skilled than him. Toting the pair of them back to Kirkwall will be inconvenient, but what's the alternative?
no subject
She's trying to sort out the logistics of taking the pair with them. Probably tied to horses; two riders per horse is doable, especially given Adrasteia's Avvar horse, but that is too close quarters most likely. The woman will pose a problem no matter how they do it, she's certain of it.
Caladrius gets a tight-lipped smile as Adrasteia begins the process of taking the braids she'd slept in down. It's something to do with her hands, to pull her attention from the dull pain in her head, and she's not feeling overly friendly at this exact moment.