[ She'd channeled her pain on the floor as she fought to stay conscious through her transformation, the years and years of torment and beatings and any other cruelties foisted upon her culminating into feeling every part of her body shift and break and reform. An experience she never would have gone through if Tissaia hadn't saved her when she'd tried to kill herself. Just as she'd heard rumors of the Trials, she's sure there were rumors of what a Sorceress undertook to obtain her beauty. That they were offered the luxury of sedation for the pain.

Her mind floods back to writhing on the floor, the echo of her screams filling the chamber. Her body being ripped apart for what felt like an eternity. She laughs, but the sound is hollow as she reaches for a towel. Drying off her hands, she doesn't give herself enough time to think through her own next steps. Something he was very good at drawing out of her. He's raw and she's an easy target, she knew that going in -- especially when he lets the 'we' slip. But he'd struck something, a very very old wound. ]

There are far crueler fates than bleeding for science. There's no emotion in science. The cruelty is methodical and result-driven. There's an end to it, a call for an outcome. He should be so lucky to only bleed for science. [ She sucks in a breath, not wanting to share anything else that might give him further ammunition. She'd already said too much. Instinctually, her hand touches one of the scars on her wrist -- a scar he'd commented on in their first meeting. As quick as her hand is on her arm, it drops as she casts. There's a shimmer to the window as she turns, a barrier snapping into place to keep him from running as she calls over her shoulder. ]

Do with the bath as you see fit. I'll fetch the bandages for whenever you're out.