<hr/><hr/><strong>Katyin Deadcaste</strong><br/>(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/a/a5/4ERgdXbsmall.jpg)<br/><br/><hr/><hr/><br/>Steadying herself, Katyin takes half the food offered and studies it-- barely a palm full, but enough.  She nods, her face slightly away from the blonde man, her glimmering eyes finding his face after a brief dip of thanks behind her lashes.  "He did staunch the bleeding..." she says, though her words are fairly slurred still, she is clearly coherent enough to understand that much.  "Frail thing... she might have died otherwise.  We can... hope."<br/><br/>Though her knees sag a bit, the chain reminds her to straighten herself, and she has the presence to swipe her loose, matted hair from her face before she continues.  "There may be some rotten meat.  Sure as all the hells stinks like it."  She sniffs, wipes at her cheek, the pale blue-gray tattoos beneath visible under dried blood and grime.  "Klithini... maggots.  They eat infection.  Keep some if you find them, in case the wound poisons."  Despite the fog, her accent is clear... western tribes, no doubt.<br/><br/>At that, settles back against the stone, her bare thighs splayed before her as she sinks slowly along the cold stone to the ground.  "She is pretty.  Hells... so are you lot, some of you.  Why would they abuse pretty slaves?"  She snickers, rubbing one throbbing temple with her free hand.  "These slavers are animals."