Myrine stands in silent observation, a sentinel of silken skin and teak wood muscles.  As she listens to Galla, traces her crawl, and at last gazes down on her with inscrutable expression intact, Myrine keeps the girl fastened in the indigo jewellery of her eyes - a bondage as formidable, as palpable, as Galla has experienced today.<br/><br/>Her sandalled feet scrape wider as Galla rears up, and all notice the slight twitch of her nose when pungent fluid stretches, seeps and drops from the girl's body.  The aroma of myrrh from her own body wafts through that deep odor, wending with it.  She seems as calm as Galla is angry, and when she finally speaks, it is with a tone as smooth as a mirror.<br/><br/>"You will deliver yourself from slavery, Galla.  Or from whatever bondage you struggle against."  Myrine says lightly.  Her fingernail dips to claim a tear from Galla's cheek.  "As for what I am doing here, I am a friend of Master Catulus."<br/><br/>At mention of his name, Catulus nods.  "Speaking of friends, I will gather the other."<br/><br/>With that, he hastens down the stairs to the library, to summon the rest of the Heroes.<br/><br/>Myrine, in Catulus' absence, talks on.  "When I learned of your captivity, I arranged to have you brought here.  I could not see you suffering and wasting away in unworthy slavery."<br/>