"When I was young, my father hated the lowest of the low", she said softly as she removed Loki's shirt carefully before she saw the wound on his back. "Slaves, that is", she then pulled a warm rag from a bucket of warm water. It wasn't too warm but it was a mix of cold and warm. "He despised them. Making them escorts, become whipped, and even no food nor water for weeks", she continued as she brought the rag over the wound. "Slavery is a plague. It doesn't solve anything when it comes to war. I see innocence in them. Love, compassion, and strength. Loki just hasn't learned that feeling"