(OCC: Now, now, there's no reason to be so hard on the quality of your rp'ing, even if darksiders have, of necessity, deficient rp'ing skills [it explains why they frequently leave rps in the lurch]; join us of light and your skill will improve.
Like most hastily planned escapes, the Dark Crescent had failed to account for all variables. The most grievous of her errors lay in forgetting the layout of Minas Tirith; having descended from the Tower of Ecthelion alive but wounded, she was reacquired by the Tower's guards and returned to a cell within minutes. Cursing herself for not better planning her escape, she brooded in silence until two unwanted personages entered.
"I thought an ill conceived escape attempt might have to be endured." Luin noted.
"Be quiet." She snapped.
"It was a miracle that you didn't break anything, landing on those stone roads."
"I have nothing to discuss with you."
"While I have much to discuss with you."
Tarquin tightened the manacles on her wrists they dug into her skin and she knew that she was not strong enough to remove them. But Tarquin, warrior though he was, was also a gentleman, and she knew how to play to his weaknesses, provided her accursed brother didn't intervene. She would need Tarquin's help to escape this city, and she would connive until her aim of escape had been realized. He was uncharacteristically silent; no doubt at her brother's recommendation, and hadn't known that it was possible for a Tarquin to keep a still tongue. Yet this newly discovered trait could work to her advantage. While she was pondering, she missed Luin's first question.
"Well?" He pressed, eying her with a frown.
"For whom are you working?"