[Center][h3]Arvela Favryn[/h3][/center]

The situation was slowly but surely spiralling out of hand. There was a growing tension in the cell that made Arvelas senses sharpen, quietly preparing her for the inevitable release. The eccentric cackling of these eccentric people didn't help in the slightest, and the Dunmer wondered what she would do and how she would fare if it came down to hostilities. There were other magi in the cell, more than a few, and their capabilities were a worrying factor. She kept watching and waiting, her position unchanged, but the discerning observer could deduce she had tensed up.

As if to inflame her suspicion, she caught a glimpse of an Argonian eyeing her with a fury in his gaze. She didn't know what cause he had for hating her, but she earnestly didn't care. Rather, she made a note to keep him in the corner of her eye and to not let him get too close. If it came to blows, she'd solve him first. It was a pity she had been disarmed before ending up here. Arvela would have felt safer with that length of sharpened, enchanted steel at her hip. She made another note of studying conjuration magic more to learn how to bind weapons herself, without the aid of the blade. As it were, now, fire would have to do.