The test the other throws her way sails right over Jinxâs head, naturally. There were a number of other languages on Runeterra besides common, but sheâd never had the opportunity to learn any of themâŚnot that such an opportunity wouldâve done her much good in understanding the fearsome womanâs utterances. She understands her sentiments in tormenting this man, though- sheâd seen such motivations plenty of times before, and she could empathize with them.
âAh. A backstabber and a disappointment. I get why youâre dragging it out. Never been good at pacing myself, honestly, butâŚyou know.â She stands back up to her full height, prodding at the manâs elbow with the tiptoe of her boot.
âFor me itâs liars.â Sheâs getting lost in her thoughts now, the times she felt sheâd been wronged. The boot dances along the length of his forearm, up to his wrist.  âSomeone hiding things from meâŚmanipulating me, stringing me along so I act the way they want me toâŚtelling me anything just so I-â
Sheâs jerked out of the rambling, realizing just how much pressure she was putting on the traitorâs wrist. Not enough to snap it yet, but had she continuedâŚ
She pulls the foot back, looking up to the self-proclaimed Queen with a chuckle.  âRight, your poor sap to torture- my bad. Keeping my hands, feet, and various deadly weapons to myself starting now.â
â ââââ Itâs not often those chosen by the Stars come wandering into her web without some disgustingly annoying hero complex. The manâs whimper, sharpening with every second the stranger spends in reverie upon his limb, goes ignored. Sheâs far more intrigued by this girl, and, well...
Potential allies worth anything are few and far between in this place.
The Valsharess hums, pensive. âThere is quite the story hidden in your words, jalil. I have always found liars quite... bothersome. The bloody squabbles of the drow have always been rooted deep in subterfuge, but truth be told, deception is but a tool of the weak.â She half speaks to the man at her heels, voice unusually soft. Unnervingly so. âA lie to camouflage the knife in oneâs hand can be avoided if one has the sense to keep their weapon hidden in the first place.â
She is quiet, apparently lost in thought, only to finally pull her foot back from the man just enough to offer the stiletto swathed in the blood of the hand she had punctured. âFilthy male. Clean your mess and I may yet find it in me to let you live.â
He stares at her, not understanding, lips parting before she offers the stiletto to his tongue. He blinks tears from his eyes, horrified, but with his back to the wall, does he have another option? The male laps at her heel, gagging in disgust with every lick. An uncomfortable ordeal that stretches every minute into an hour, but she doesnât move, face unrelenting, heel unyielding.
âPlease,â he chokes out eventually, âPlease, donât kill me.â
She takes that as a sign that heâs finished. All it takes is a half glance at the sole of her shoe to know that itâs far from spotless. âWhat carelessness. Does this look clean to you, jalil?â The Valsharess asks the girl, flat as ever, and with the edge of her lip curling up, she adds, âDonât feel any need to restrain yourself on my behalf. Clearly this one doesnât care enough to work for mercy.â