The faint tune came to an abrupt halt. Strings screamed at their sudden mistreatment. A slender feminine figure sitting on the other side of the stones in the spring. Her back was a smooth caramel complexion, with a surprising number of scars marring it's otherwise enchanting sheen.<br/><br/>Clutching the instrument to her breast, she cradled it like a child to her form, as if a secret worth her life.<br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff8000">"HARA RASHAM! What do you want?! This was supposed to be a time unused by any other! You humiliate me too often, Harlot! A habit that will cost your life eventually!"<br/>
</span><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf">A surprisingly familiar tone and dialect, though without the hollow rasp of a helmet, it's decidedly sensual latin tones sang in her voice.</span><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff8000">"It is hard enough parading around as it is and yet you see fit to make my... Ay.... Make HIS life harder.... The poor man of virtue, and yet he is scorned, spurned, and disrespected outside of the isolation provided by his sparse order, and dilapidated tower..."<br/>
</span><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf">Her figure tensing, as she realized something of what she was saying, her angry ranting dialed back. As she retook her composure. Placing the instrument down atop the higher stone, she made her way gracefully into the water beside you. Her annoyance and ire palpable. As she glared with a pointed passion. The heat of which rivaling the refreshing coolness of the springs rejuvenating waters.<br/>
</span><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff8000">"So. What is to become of the sinful songbird? Probably being called to whore for His Majesty's personal pleasure, I would imagine? As sinfully decadent as he may be, his voice has been unparalleled for generations of human singers. I sincerely doubt he would be interested in just your chords. There must be more base intention behind such a decision. Only a man of virtue, such as that of the cloth can truly be of noble and unquestionable intent. He worships none other than his own mortal abilities. It is a farce upon the greater plan of the Almighty who look down upon their children...."<br/>
</span><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf">Though the barbs were certainly quite overt, they did not have the same lash as another crimson figure. Her tone decidedly changed as she had regained herself. Though the vitriol directed towards her was just as potent as the iron screws set to her within that cell. It was very clear that she had stumbled upon something she should not have. And her response to which could very well affect her budding new life. Especially with such a volatile and "passionate" personality being effectively cornered in a most vulnerable situation.</span>