Her slim figure in the cage seemed almost to be made of a shard of moonlight itself; skin and hair were bare, pale and gleaming, the only bit of darkness being that horrible collar bound around her throat, and which she did not lift her hands to touch - only lifted her head from time to time, longing to be rid of it.<br/><br/>But there was no being rid of it, and she sat, and endured it as the warming fingers of the sun faded for sister moon - endured it as motionless as she could manage, until with the approach from behind her, it seemed to come alive on her throat, squirming and crawling against her skin. She could feel what it was that made the thing move so; the taint of dark power wafted before the owner of the footsteps.<br/><br/>Slowly, Elandriel's head turned, to peer between the silverwhite strands of her own hair at the man standing upon the battlement. There was not enough room in the cage for the rest of her to turn as well. Silent, she studied him even as he did her, and finally her lips parted to observe without question, "You are kin to him."