Icy blue eyes watched the muscular elf slam down into the rock-hard surface of the pedestal, not a single sign of emotion visible within her gaze as she stared at the mirror in front of her. Her pink lips shone with the glossy substance they had been coated in as she sipped from the silver chalice in her hand. Slender fingertips caressed the engraved metal embedded with small crystals as she witnessed the male cry out within the confines of his cell. She did not respond to his questions in any way at all, not the slightest movement in her eyes, nor was there a single muscle that moved in the visible parts of her facial features.<br/><br/>Varran, meanwhile, found he was not physically strong enough to lift the portcullis. No matter how hard he tried or what position he got himself in to take most advantage of his muscular build, nothing seemed to give the metal any movement whatsoever. His voice echoed through the hallway, and it seemed as if his shout caused the torches that had been mounted on the wall to flicker. Perhaps it was just the wind, or maybe it was his voice after all, or an entirely different source could be the cause of this change in lighting. The torches seemed to die down slightly, reducing the ammount of light being cast through the hallway and making his cell an even darker and more uncomfortable place to be in.<br/><br/>There appeared to be no way out of here. Not through the window, not through the portcullis. The elven male in the cell looked around, talking to himself and demanding more answers from a source he didn't even know existed at all.<span style="color: gray">"Mistress... Shall I fetch the equipment?"</span>, the small wretched being at her knees asked of the beautiful woman in front of the mirror. Her answer was emotionless and cold, yet her words came from her lips in a calm and eloquently spoken manner.<span style="color: steelblue">"No. We wait."</span><div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>