Solistrae lowered her red eyes and adjusted herself as Ambrosine began cleaning her.  She moved as directed, spreading her legs, moving her chained hands so she could allow her to reach places.  She keeps her attention on Catherine, her awareness of Ambrosine close at hand, her washing if nothing else seemed skilled.  She'd make a good hostage when she could try her escape.<br/><br/>"It should be exotic," she said with resisted pride as she is being washed.  "I hail from the desert lands of the south, the grand Astar'azen metropolis.  My House dealt with trade with the other cities, our spices the finest, our gold and iron needed.  We pride ourselves on our dangerous blades and our sensual dancers."  Though she had never known of the greener lands that she had been brought and so her boast wilts somewhat.  "I was heir to the house, the finest of our shadow sword dancers.  Enemies use to fear us."  The bitterness and sorrow in her tone was unmistakable and new tears glimmer in her eyes.  "Our loyalty... no more.  Cowards..."<br/><br/>Hearing the desire and command Solistrae glances to her wash helper.  The poor submissive servant girl, she thought while raising her arms to be washed there.  By now there was bound to be not much of the dirt and grime left from the slave markets, as well as from the trip from Astar'azen.  Her eyes look around for a weapon.  If she could take the imperial-like Catherine then the entire House could be hers.  Her deadly skills with a blade would end her enslavement.  Her search comes to a crashing end as a servant drops a platter, Solistrae jumps nearly widened eyes falling upon the clumsy servant, her breath coming quickly.<br/><br/>Stupid woman, she thought hissing nearly, then she heard Catherine's harsh strong tone, and saw the bullwhip.  Her eyes widen, fear in her eyes.  If she used such a thing on servants then what of slaves?!  Once Catherine turns away Solistrae quickly lowered her eyes slightly, her gaze going to Ambrosine a wish to urge her to hurry the washing.  A thought occurs to her, if Catherine has not beaten into submission her servants then perhaps Solistrae had a chance to create a rebellion?  Still hearing the woman servant crying as she recovers from being nearly whipped, Solistrae fears that perhaps Catherine's command of fear would beat her own inspirational words that used to lead a legion.