A loud ringing in his ears coaxed Adriel back to consciousness, head lifting ever so slightly as he opened bleary eyes to take stock of where he was. For several moments, all he could make out were layers of shadow and faint light. Blinking slowly, he tried to pull the blurry shapes together, but it was a futile effort for now. A long, heavy sigh escaped him, head falling forward until his chin rested on his chest once more. Had he known he'd wake up in a strange place with his head pounding so furiously, Adriel would have stayed asleep a while longer. This wasn't the first time he had found himself trussed up, nor was it likely to be the last considering he had a penchant for finding trouble.<br/><br/>The first thing he needed to focus on was examining how much damage was done, a process he could thankfully do without use of his hands. With his eyes closed, Adriel turned his attention inward, listening first to the sound of his own heartbeat to ground himself... then very slowly tuning it out. His magic reserves ran deep, but the battle had drawn out a good deal of his power. It was trickling back in, although he would burn more than he built if he didn't eat and rest properly. Lightly touching the pool of magic, he drew out one gossamer thread, guiding it to work on the broken skin that had soaked his bleached-blonde hair with blood. Flesh knit together one layer at a time, yet it happened in the blink of an eye. As with every injury he'd ever had, Adriel made sure not a single scar was left behind, far too conscious of his appearance to tolerate blemishes. Every injury he had suffered in the battle was mended, right down to the lightest abrasions and contusions.<br/><br/>This time when he looked around the room, it was with both clarity and every intent to escape. It was less a question of<i>how</i>and more a question of<i>when</i>. Trying to leave now would be foolish; low reserves wouldn't get him far if he encountered enemies outside of this room. His coat had been taken, which meant none of the numerous vials of blood he kept stashed in its many pockets were at his disposal. With his arms chained, he couldn't activate the various spells tattooed on his forearms. The ink  that covered both of them - circles within circles, bisected by triangles and squares - was useless. Had it not been for the other prisoners sharing this room with him, Adriel wouldn't have hesitated to use what was left of his magic to free himself now, but he wouldn't have their deaths on his hands. Not today.<br/><br/><i>Patience</i>. Nik had taught him that. Take a step back to evaluate instead of charging headlong into a fight. He needed to incapacitate the guard first. As he truly looked at the man for the first time, however, Adriel couldn't help thinking he looked... familiar. Had he seen that face in the middle of the fight?<i>No</i>, he thought, it had been more than a brief glimpse. This was the man he had fired his last shot at, right before everything went dark.<br/><br/>"Who the<i>fuck</i>are you?" he growled from his place on the wall. Goading his captor was far from practicing patience, but the shock of encountering anyone - any<i>thing</i>- his magic hadn't affected left him feeling at a bit of a loss. Had he not been strung up by an enemy, he might have been fascinated instead of frustrated. Sharp eyes that leaned more towards green than brown locked on the man and he instinctively tugged at one of his chains. "Afraid to face me without the chains? I'm flattered," Adriel taunted, voice laced with sarcasm. It was tempting to reveal he didn't need his hands to use magic, but he had enough sense to keep that to himself. For now.