During the pale lady’s response, Elisa had found momentary comfort in a beloved book, fine fingertips leading the erratic movements of the pen across the wrinkled papers. Notes, notes, notes. She even found time to draw another rough sketch of the intriguing woman, the distinct features apparent and though it lacked the finer details, the art remained true to its purpose.<br/><br/>Eyes peaked the edge of the leather-binding that encased her book, analytic pupils attempting to read the lady’s expressions and unusual thought process.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(184, 49, 47)">“I’m afraid that I don’t know the nitty-gritty details, but that’s all the more reason to investigate for me.” </span>She nodded her head in contempt,<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(184, 49, 47)">“However, you have agreed to aid me, and for that, I am forever grateful. Now, give me a moment.”</span><br/><br/>She turned on the spot to direct her attention to the figure beside her.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(184, 49, 47)">“This is not a journey fit for a blind and feeble peddler, Sir. I apologise for my brash use of words, but you would get yourself killed. Terror can find cracks in the sturdiest of armour, the most resolute of minds and judging by your current state, you possess neither.”</span>Her body folded in an apologetic bow,<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(184, 49, 47)">“I greatly appreciate your input, but I can take it from here. I can’t allow you to venture anywhere as things stand, Sir.”</span><br/><br/>That being said, her fingers snapped around the book and it closed with a dry wheeze. She took a step back, dexterous frame lean and wiry, every deliberate sinew in her tensed, on high alert.<br/><br/>Visible thoughts on her breathless face erupted in an inverse explosion, crazy, chaotic, turning and twisting all the light coming together, forming just one thing, one purpose. They spun in a design-less and logic-devoid fashion, yet the end result was exactly as desired. Eyes flared to life with a potent concoction of determination and finesse, a blinding teal light emanating from the sockets, as well as the jewel that rested gently on her supple forehead.<br/><br/>With the simple twitch of a suspended muscle, she braced and paused to briefly gesticulate towards the barred door, a smooth signaling of the hand casting a bright seal of light. It burst into sporadic gusts of wind that cascaded through the narrow corridors and sprawling grid of the prison facility. The shower of crystalline glass that followed the ear-rending sound flickered off in wild tornados of glimmer. The door flung open, its hinges creaking absurdly under the applied pressure, the lock thoroughly battered.<br/><br/>She waltzed over the threshold then and kneeled beside the bound hostage, fingers undoing the restrictive binds. Elisa was warm, fragranced, soft, but also wary, daunted and lightly frightened.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(184, 49, 47)">“You can stand by yourself, right?”</span>She took a definite step into the woman’s low-cast vision as she loomed before her, sack-like wrapping encapsulating her frame, a helpful hand extended as a sign of gratitude.