Taiga cackled mirthlessly at Leif's reply to his question. His brows curved suggestively. "My mother's been dead many years. I was the miracle child, the child of their old age. My father seemed in the peak of health. Now he's dying."<br/><br/>He phrased it like it preoccupied him, but of course, it didn't. He'd been behind that poison, no one else.<br/><br/>He coiled his legs back over his head and kicked forward onto his feet, graceful as a tumbler. Strange to see a nobleman with that precision of movement, perhaps. Nobles were known for their guts flabby from overworking peasants, not their acrobatic acumen.<br/><br/>Taiga stood with his back to Leif, letting him saw through the ropes, which finally unraveled to show the purple chafes where the ropes pinched. Taiga rolled his shoulders and extended his arms normally with a pleased hiss. He rubbed his wrists, fixing Leif with an eye canny and proud as a hawk's.<br/><br/>"No, no foolhardy escape attempts from me, I'm afraid."<br/><br/>Taiga pulled his silk tunic over his head and tossed it to the right. This was repeated by his linen shirt, his belt and empty sheath for his sword, his cotton hosiers, and his silk trousers.<br/><br/>Now bare, the low light in the cave dancing on his tan skin, he stretched to fully work the kinks in his back, showing he had no modesty and a lot of flexibility, like a dancer. He crouched like a common fishmonger, though, frog knees splayed and no attempt either to hide his body or to show it off.<br/><br/>"Did you mourn him? When he died," Taiga asked. "I think I mourned my mother. Missed her presence. I have vague memories like that. My father's dying," he said. He shot Leif a wry smile. "Moralists tell me I should feel more than I do about that."