Faryn watched the one man hurl his enemy over his shoulder, taking him off to some unknown location. As the day progressed the princess watched the revelry in silence. She watched the drinking and eating and loud boisterous interactions between both men and women. She turned away when two people decided to get intimate in the middle of the gathering. Her people were free with their sexual partners and acts but there was something that lacked dignity, presenting it in such a way. Sure herself had partaken in intimate acts with numerous male and female elves but to lay down in the middle of a public space was just…Barbaric. She couldn’t think of another word to describe her feelings on the matter, the entire persona of the camp was of that claim.<br/><br/>Faryn allowed herself several more goblets of wine, taking better care to pace herself. It wasn’t the fear of getting drunk but more so letting on that she enjoyed the drink. Anything that gave away her interests, personality or background was to be held close to her heart.  Faryn didn’t touch the food, the dishes being of only meat. The stench was horrible, the grease that collected on Cromir’s fingers and lips, disgusting. She went hungry, filling her belly on wine. Meat was not something her people ate. They were too connected to the earth to eat another creature. It would be like eating another elf, something taboo and just not done.<br/><br/>As the day began dusk, Farny kept track just how much Cromir was drinking, mildly astonished at how much he was able to tuck away in that gut of his. When he stood, she took note of the gentle stumble in his thick feet that were weighted down by intoxication. Her eyes shifted towards the other man he whistled for. She followed the two down the stage, feet silent on the creaking wood. Her hands remained cupped before her pelvis, fingers clawing at her wrists to maintain her sense of awareness. A sickening feeling fell into the pit of her stomach as they approached the pole. Only hours ago a man had been whipped twenty times with a grotesque instrument. She looked at the pole, hearing his command but not moving. Her jaw tightened as he turned to talk with the other man, her eyes looking into the crowd that had gathered around the pole, waiting with painfully anxious faces for her demise. Like vultures, feeding on the scrapes that Cromir through them.<br/><br/>She heard the whispered tones of the bandit leader, asking for salve and bandages. Her fingers dug into her wrists, drawing prickles of blood as she took out her fear and anger on herself. Finally, with a stiff step forward she withdrew her hands from her sleeves. It was as if she had finally come to terms with what her body did, the sudden jolt of movement after a prolonged hesitation. As she held up her hands he would be able to see the small pin prickles of blood that licked at her wrists from where she had cut herself only moments ago. She placed her hands in the shackles, the cold metal sending shivers through her body but her face didn’t react. Faryn looked down at the shackles as they were closed around her hands. She was a warrior, whatever he did to her she could take. If it meant saving her people, she would take it. Her eyes closed briefly as she repeated a mantra of courage in her mind. She could handle this.