[There had always been so much emotion in her, written plainly on her face and dripping from her voice. It crests and crashes against his own emotions, dulled by centuries. Like calls to like, and like always when he's talking to her, her emotions infect him. Calls to his own as they rise unbidden in the pit of his stomach. Maybe that's half the fascination. Half of what makes him hate her.

Her unyielding and unflinching defiance.]

You can try.

[The Darkling towers over her with a half-smile, reaching out to almost touch the antlers lodged around her throat. The bond they share; the mark he put on her, but they're not alone and his hand goes to her arm instead. They are possibly the only Grishas here, they are most certainly the most powerful ones. Even if his Small Science isn't leaping at his fingertips at the moment; they would come back.]

But I warn you, I am never powerless.

[She is the first face that he knows here, the first outright, personally unfriendly one, too. And he wants to remind her, of the bond. Of what he can really do. How much like him she is. But thinking about that, is an ugly reminder of her power, as well. He's safer as long as she doesn't realize. As long as she's naive and feeling helpless.

So, the Darkling takes a step back, releasing her arm as he wipes all traces of emotion off of his face, and looks back to the others locked in here with them.]

How long have you been here, miss Starkov? It doesn't look like Ravka to me, but I am not ruling out this being a Shu camp.