It wasn't that Cara hadn't moved since finishing radio last Friday, she just hadn't moved more than strictly necessary. Some detached part of her recognised that this behaviour, every Mord'Sith temple had prisoners who'd been pushed too far and too fast, and had shattered instead of breaking, leaving a shell that it would have been a kindness to put down. The rest of her...just didn't care.

Shifting, her gaze fell on her leathers puddled on the floor, scuffed and unpolished, lacings snapped along the forearms, all things she normally wouldn't have left unfixed for minutes, not days. She could, should have picked them up, but simply rolled over so she was facing the blank wall instead.

[ooc: mostly establishy, but open if anyone cares to risk poking a moody mord'sith]