[The Duchy of Meridian] Mazorana Maximum Security Prison

Despite the poor conditions, Andraste carries herself with grace and elegance. While she was not eating, she would sit, and meditate, using non-magical techniques her old mentors had taught her to reduce her metabolism. To her, this is simply another trial.

Over the days she sits and waits, her figure gets a bit more gaunt, and her mouth is always dry. Every time a scream had rung in her ears for the first few hours she would wince, but eventually they simply became ambiance. For hours at a time she sits, cross-legged upon the cold stone ground, her mind clear of all thought, save one single mantra. She remains this way until someone arrives.

Peace and calm. The masters had taught her well. Andraste's eyes slowly open upon hearing the lock click open. There she sits, right before the door, waiting in a cross-legged position. In response to the guard's cruel smile, Andraste simply gives a soft, enigmatically placid smile of her own. She allows the guards to place the collar around her neck, and follows them out.
"You will not break me so easily as your other prisoners," insists the sorceress, her tone as calm as her expression, despite being pulled along so degradingly.

Andraste inclines her head slowly. She declines a seat for the moment, instead standing before the table, head held high and proud. It's clear it would take a lot more than a simple interrogation to break her.
"Yes. I killed these guards in self defence. They were attempting to detain me without reason," responds Andraste, her orange eyes showing no fear or intimidation. Or anything else, really. It's as if she's a blank slate.
"Further, I am a sorceress, not a witch."

"I am not a citizen of Goraia, so I have no knowledge of your laws," responds Andraste.
"I simply defended myself beyond your borders from men who thought it wise to attack me and attempt to take me into custody for no wrongdoing aside from a perceived threat."

"It was not in cold blood, I had reason to believe they would attack me for no reason other than misplaced suspicion," replies Andraste. Regardless, she won't resist if they take her away. So far she's proving to be a very boring prisoner. However, internally she does wonder what will be next. First, interrogation by men who have already made up their minds. Clearly, this is not an equitable justice system.

Andraste looks at the gruel with a scornful glance, before entirely disregarding it and moving to sit in the center of the cell, closing her eyes and centering herself. If the guards were at all monitoring Andraste, they would notice her lack of need to eat every day, though she jumps on the chance to drink whenever she has it. All in all, throughout almost all hours of the day she sits cross-legged before the bars, motionless but for her steady breathing. When the guard approaches the cell, Andraste's eyes open. She works herself up to a standing position. Despite her purposefully slowed metabolism, she still appears slightly more gaunt than before. Even a well-trained body can go so long without food.

Andraste's stomach rumbles in protest to her lack of true sustenance; the gruel was barely nutritious enough to be called edible, and those times when the guards spilled it she would not lose her dignity by attempting to eat it off the ground. Her ember orange eyes meet the guard's, showing nothing as she asks, her tone soft and elegant, "Yes? Do you require me for more questioning?"
Despite her shackle and ever so slightly underfed appearance, she's able to hold herself with dignity and grace.

As Andraste is dragged off to the same room, she sighs lightly. Well, more pointless interrogation, she supposes. Then, she notices a mildly familiar face, and raises a brow. She's seen this man...somewhere. On a diplomatic mission, perhaps? She cannot quite remember. Then...
Her lips turn up into a small smile and she suppresses a laugh behind her hand.
"Ah. How the mighty fall. How do you like your new masters?" asks Andraste, before striding over delicately and sitting down across from him. "I am doing well, considering my precarious situation. And yourself, Ambassador Marks?"

"Isra did not 'send' me here, per se, but I have documentation allowing me full autonomy in matters of state dealing with magic. I heard about a large magical defensive weapon through rumours leaking from the borders and I thought it prudent to investigate," responds Andraste, crossing her hands before her upon the table. Her ember orange eyes investigate Tanis' own with an inquisitive gaze.
"Why do you work for Goraia?" she asks, candidly. She had heard the name repeated by prisoners, whispers of all the terrible things they do. Prisoners often speak that way, in Andraste's experience, but none seemed so...afraid as these.

"You cannot blame me for my curiosity, especially given that we have not had any form of communication from Medan...or Goraia...since the borders were closed. Medan and Isra were once close allies. Once we began hearing of a regime change people began to get worried. They decided to meet about it in the Assembly, I decided to take action," responds Andraste, shrugging lightlu, "for better or worse. I know of your service to Medan, but back then you were in a rather high-ranking position. Now you're talking to lowly prisoners. Why is that?"
Andraste's eyes show as little as always. A few days in prison have not broken her will, have not opened her soul to be bared to any who deign to search it. That cool, enigmatic exterior remains, and Tanis will gain nothing from examining her face.