The tiefling didn't raise her head when she heard him move closer to her, though when she felt his hand brush her mutilated wing, the limb was pulled in closer, a weary flinch running through her body. Her eyes were dull and dark through the obsidian strands of her hair as it fell across her brow, all but staring through him when he sat before her. His lack of modesty was noticed, and she felt phantom pains in her throat at the memory of what he had had her do. When she finally raised her eyes to his face as he spoke, there was both pain and exhaustion in her gaze, as well as ever-present hatred. The emotion had cooled somewhat, like flames dying into ashes, but the embers remained, ready to spring up again when given the opportunity.<br/><br/>He was blithe when he spoke of her former followers and their use, prompting her lips to crook with scorn. Cannon fodder, untrained militia he could throw at their next foe in order to soften them up for the final blow. She wondered how many of the Crew had been brought on in that same fashion. Rysalt seemed to command both respect and obedience among his troops, though she was willing to bet that it was due both to the fear he could instill and the rewards he could provide, rather than any admiration for him as an individual--the opposite of how she had led. Aryel wondered if he intended that same fate for her, though she suspected that if she was of no more value than they were, they wouldn't be having this private audience together.<br/><br/>When he idly offered her the apple he had been nibbling--possibly even taken from the orchards of the very town they had just pillaged--she ignored it, turning her face away slightly. Maybe he had been able to tame his Frungling by hand-feeding it, but she was a more stubborn breed. Even then, she winced as his other hand traveled across her stomach, brushing lightly against her bruise-mottled muscles. Even that little touch was enough to set them aching, and she seemed to shy away from his hand like a beaten dog. She hadn't yet had the chance to look herself over in depth and assess just how badly he had hurt her. Tieflings were a bit more sturdy than their human cousins, and Aryel had always been the sort who could take a hit and keep swinging, but she had the same squishy, vulnerable insides as anyone. Internal bleeding was a slow, ugly way to go.<br/><br/>She'd put her own condition out of her mind for the moment, however, at the offer he made. There it was, why she had not merely been tossed in the stocks with the rest of them. He meant to use her against his enemies as well, something she would have turned down in a heartbeat had he not been dangling their welfare over her. Even now, after their betrayal of her, she still felt an obligation to protect them. "Your idea of 'war' seems to be little more than slaughtering farmers and pillaging towns," she observed coldly, brushing the apple away with a hand as he offered it again.