Damita didn’t expect anyone to appreciate the fact that she was there; after all the horror stories she’d heard, she was more than sure she was going to end up chained to the front of a tent somewhere, naked and beaten at every opportunity. As for the necklace, Damita didn’t quite want to ask for anything (even water or the like) let alone something that was /his/. With her question going unanswered for the moment, Damita lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, her hands fidgeting in her lap.<br/><br/>At last he spoke, her gaze lifting to his face, letting him know that he had her full attention. She had been vaguely aware that she’d have to adapt to a new way of life, though at his next words, Damita’s face blanched. She looked at him blankly for a few moments while his words clicked, anger coloring her words, “I was given as a /consort/?” Her voice raised an octave on the last word, cinnamon gaze narrowing on the other. “My father knew of this? Of what I was to become?” Little by little her anger was returning, coloring her cheeks in a most complimenting flush.<br/>