[When she first leaves, he assumes she has simply decided to mind her own business and won't be back, so he's actually a bit surprised when she returns with water. She's correct in her guesses - they've been only been feeding him as much as necessary to keep him going. The more hungry and thirsty he is, the more pliable he is to manipulation, after all.
At first, he isn't even capable of getting off his hands and knees, crumpled low on the ground as if in placation. Yet, as the guard controlling him lets their attention drift to chortling with their fellows, he is at least able to move his hands, even if he can't get himself to stand up. He accepts the water and drinks deep, trying to put down as much as possible before the guards take it away from him. When he speaks again he has to gasp for air first.]
My thanks...
[His thanks are genuine but subdued, as if he doesn't want to be heard by anyone else observing. His ego is as badly beaten as his body, if not worse. Though he has never cared much for fame, compliments, or the opinions of others in general, he does have some pride in himself, largely centered around his skill and ability to get things done. When you value your own agency so much, this sort of helplessness cuts deep.
He defines himself as a warrior, after all. What good is he crumpled on the ground, helplessly starving, dressed in bloody rags? It feels as if everything he recognizes about himself is being stripped away.]
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At first, he isn't even capable of getting off his hands and knees, crumpled low on the ground as if in placation. Yet, as the guard controlling him lets their attention drift to chortling with their fellows, he is at least able to move his hands, even if he can't get himself to stand up. He accepts the water and drinks deep, trying to put down as much as possible before the guards take it away from him. When he speaks again he has to gasp for air first.]
My thanks...
[His thanks are genuine but subdued, as if he doesn't want to be heard by anyone else observing. His ego is as badly beaten as his body, if not worse. Though he has never cared much for fame, compliments, or the opinions of others in general, he does have some pride in himself, largely centered around his skill and ability to get things done. When you value your own agency so much, this sort of helplessness cuts deep.
He defines himself as a warrior, after all. What good is he crumpled on the ground, helplessly starving, dressed in bloody rags? It feels as if everything he recognizes about himself is being stripped away.]