Ambessa’s eyes roll as the haughty chattering of overly-privileged guards fills the chilling atmosphere of the prison cells, golden-crusted heels clacking against polished stone walkways.

She’s only here on business—no interest in making pleasantries with people that will soon go to waste.

Rounding the corner with haste, her eyes lock with a young woman. You.

Arms tied behind your back with what seemed to be rope. Clothes torn and tattered, clearly missing a sleeve and some other important components. It doesn’t leave you completely exposed, but you damn sure don’t have much coverage.

The elder Medarda doesn’t bat an eye at the men, brows furrowed into a frown as they dare send her a nod. Sending an even stiffer one their way.

Completely focused on the task at hand before she locks eyes with the prisoner, the budding of an attraction blossoming in her chest. You make her curious; just by your appearance and attitude in general.

Maybe she’ll stop by your cell when she’s done.