The eyes looking into her own were blacker than the rocks of the river that ran through the nearby land, and far harder - like a rock a trader had once displayed, alongside the tale of a mountain that, far to the west, gouted smoke and ash, and spilled forth a liquid glowing and hotter than any smith's fire. His eyes were like a rock of such a fantastic mountain, ground smooth, warring against her own gaze.<br/><br/>Though she was bound in chains, manacles weighting her muscular arms at pale wrist and booted ankle, her head was lifted to gaze back at the man. She recognized him from the battle that resulted in her presence in this dingy shop.<br/><br/>Her people and their Kumyurt allies had heard of a camp, and rode around in split ranks to flank it unawares - only to discover the place to be a sham. Strong runner that she was, she was among the detachment that had been dispatched back to Kumyurt in warning - only to discover the battle already raging therein, and the battle was brought to her and the other returning scouts in full force. On every side of her, she'd seen her compatriots felled by arrow, screams ringing out among warcries only to be cut off in terrible gurgles that she'd not had time to fathom, working to hard to dash and weave past and preserve herself. The pirates had had archers upon the walls, their arrows darts of death zipping into the bodies of her fellow warriors - 5 archers only. This man had been among them, clad in ink-dark silk, and masked in it as well. Then a trap had sprung beneath her feet, unseen in the chaos of ambush from a place they'd thought safe, and rather than finding shelter from the deathly rain of arrows by gaining cover beneath a tree, she'd been dragged feet-first up into the branches, sword dropped from fingers numbed by a strike of rock when she was thrown off balance.<br/><br/>There she had hung, and now here she knelt, looking up at the very black-clad man that had slain no less than fifteen of her compatriots. She'd been forced to watch them die, blood seeping in red runnels among the rocks before pirates had come, laughing, to cut her down, and several had tugged with heartless glee upon her whiteblonde hair. Tugged until she'd bitten one, and had the satisfaction of a chunk of his flesh between her teeth before three of them together bore her to the ground, kicking dirt into her icy eyes and binding her to drag into the city.<br/><br/>Yes, now here she knelt, forced to the ground at his feet, studying his face with a dark, fierce anger, and silently swearing to herself that she would taste the blood that ran under his unharmed skin, and wash her hair in it while singing to the spirits of her fallen sisters.