Mohini's eyes followed the man as he closed on her, she spit out some of the thick potion Masina had forced her to consume as he neared, dribbling some down her chin and onto the armor she wore. She didn't want the wine he offered, but the bitter taste of the herbs in her mouth was making her feel ill, in fact her face was slowly starting to drain of color, so she sipped at it. She looked over at him, unable to do anything about his slowly starting to remove the armor she wore.<br/><br/>Her eyes flicked to Masina who was now steering the ship before returning to the man who worked the buckles on her armor. The skin of her face was normally a dark tan color, a combination of her skin's pigment and years of riding in the steppe, but that color looked faded, and Mohini moaned slightly, turning her head away from the man. "Please... I will be sick..." she groaned in a miserable voice, fighting to hold back from expelling the contents of her stomach onto herself and the deck where she was fastened.