Malia's teeth clench tightly as she feels the manacles clamp onto her wrists.  It's not a new sensation.  Being squeezed into irons is almost par for the course after the baron.  When it comes right down to it, part of her his happy the clamps are only around her wrists instead of having them locked around her breasts and thighs to have her 'assets' accentuated in the most uncomfortable fashion possible for the baron.  It seems like everything that's happening to her right now is tailor made to reinforce just how much she HATED the man.  ...Or it could just be where her head is right now.<br/><br/>Regardless, she's happy to have the anger and adrenaline in her system when she's brought out into the sand pit.   The howling of the crowd is downright terrifying, almost as much as the prospect of the scythe and the raven-haired rogue can feel her knee buckling just a little bit as she walks.   It'd be enough for her to lose it to fear if she wasn't so angry and something in her head tells her she's better off riding that wave.<br/><br/><strong>"Say that to my face when I can fight back, you blue-balled, rat-faced, pig fucker!"</strong>She suddenly barks back in the vague direction of the voice that mentioned leaving her warm after the beheading, her brain managing to forget the years of speech training the baron put her through.<strong>"And the rest of you sorry sacks of shite can stick yer collective thumbs up yer sorry arses.  About all the action you'd get on a normal night!  Maybe snap yer spines while you're at it while yer pox-addled brains decide it's a good idea to  try to suck your own-  UGH."</strong>Her barbs are cut short when she hits the sand pit with a rather heavy amount of force.  Her eyes cross for a moment as the wind is knocked out of her a second time and she lets out a few unhealthy sounding coughs.  She spends a brief second of thought for the wisdom mocking her captors...  but her head winds right back to her original conclusion of 'Fuck em.  Going quietly is definitely not your style'.<br/><br/><strong><br/>[Tagging Mina, Cris]</strong><br/>With her side sporting a coating of gritty, somewhat blood-soaked sand, Malia spends a few seconds of groaning in pain before she can hoist upper body up and sit on her legs.  Her gaze drifts towards the bench where she spies Mina and a girl she doesn't recognize and there's a moment where her anger softens as she looks to Cris.  Literally no one deserves to be treated like this and for a brief  instant Malia looks like she'll offer a sympathetic word... right up until the point Mina talks. The rogue's teeth grind at the sound and she jerks her head towards the waif as she sits herself down on the bench.<strong>"Seven hells, you think I didn't tell them?  The baroness wants you DEAD Mina.   She HATES you almost as much as she hates me!"</strong>She spits out.   There's no time to go into the psychology of why the baroness had to shift the anger she felt from having her husband sleeping with other women from her husband onto his literal sex slaves.  She called them whores for a reason, after all.  Clearly Malia and Mina are vile temptresses, corrupting her sweet husband in her eyes... or it's just plain hate.  Either way, she continues.<strong>"Oh but hey, surely justice will prevail right?"</strong>She says with a scathing tone of voice, getting to her feet suddenly and unsteadily.<strong>"Surely you fine people won't stand for this travesty of justice when this innocent woman next to me is unjustly executed for a crime she did not commit!"</strong>She says to the crowd, voice dripping with a mocking, insincere tone.