Amora visibly tensed up at the word 'lashes'. She brought her hands away from her face, and turned back to see Lotor being taken elsewhere. The glare in his eyes as he was led away by Hilda, it scared her.<br/><br/>She looked over at Drinian, and could see his face wet with tears. He was just as hurt as she was about this ordeal. Her heart cried out to him, and, she did something she hadn't even thought about doing since her father died. She wrapped her arms around Drinan's shoulders, hugging him tightly. "Please, don't cry... for my sake." she whispered, her cheek against his arm.<br/><br/>Whipping. The slave girl could still hear its faint cracking, even if they were a ways from the house. With each snap of the whip, Amora flinched as if she was the one taking the blows. The scars that covered her back, some old, some still a few days fresh, they pained her every time she heard the telltale sound of a whip. The wounds seemed to reopen, each time she thought about it. It didn't matter if someone else was getting whipped, she still felt the blows on her own back. Amora could hardly hear Drinian speak, she was lost in a world of fear and pain unlike what her master had ever known.<br/><br/>She let go of Drinian, bowing her head again, and muttered "I do not wish to stay and watch, Milord. May I go back to my room?"