At Apollo's response, the crow let out a softly amused sound, almost like a chuckle if it were cut down into one short noise. "What an idealistic land you hail from." He murmured as an afterthought, thinking of all the wars he'd seen in his lifetime and the brutality used by commanders to keep their troops going. The example in the forefront of his mind was obviously Daein. Petrine had been merciless in her methods, enough so that 'don't kill the messenger' was more aptly applied in her case than in any other commander's. If she could motivate her troops the way Day was motivating them... he mentally shuddered at the thought of it.
There wouldn't be a man left standing long enough to utter a coherent sentence.
"I assume it's already been tried previously, with no success." Naesala replied then after a moment, his voice taking on an equally more quiet note. He didn't miss the spirit in the others, their tenacity and- his lips quirked upwards- fortitude. If they were doing nothing now, he guessed it was because previous attempts to escape or rebel had been met with failure.
He knew breaking out was impossible, he'd already tried to see how far his wings could take him with no success. Every time he tried to venture beyond the wall or fly straight up, he'd fall unconscious and wake up on his bed back in the dormitory. After the third attempt, he'd concluded that this magic barrier (or whatever it was) extended all the way around the island.
Fighting, on the other hand, didn't seem too plausible either. Not when the staff members had the ability to incapacitate their attacker with a snap of their fingers. With both those options out, all that was left was what the others were already doing: the towers.
Provided, of course, that that information wasn't just a series of lies fed to starving victims. In his mind, trusting the people who refused to give you any real answers was just about as foolish as one could get.
"Do you have a plan to escape?" He inquired, glancing sideways at the beorc with a raised eyebrow.
no subject
There wouldn't be a man left standing long enough to utter a coherent sentence.
"I assume it's already been tried previously, with no success." Naesala replied then after a moment, his voice taking on an equally more quiet note. He didn't miss the spirit in the others, their tenacity and- his lips quirked upwards- fortitude. If they were doing nothing now, he guessed it was because previous attempts to escape or rebel had been met with failure.
He knew breaking out was impossible, he'd already tried to see how far his wings could take him with no success. Every time he tried to venture beyond the wall or fly straight up, he'd fall unconscious and wake up on his bed back in the dormitory. After the third attempt, he'd concluded that this magic barrier (or whatever it was) extended all the way around the island.
Fighting, on the other hand, didn't seem too plausible either. Not when the staff members had the ability to incapacitate their attacker with a snap of their fingers. With both those options out, all that was left was what the others were already doing: the towers.
Provided, of course, that that information wasn't just a series of lies fed to starving victims. In his mind, trusting the people who refused to give you any real answers was just about as foolish as one could get.
"Do you have a plan to escape?" He inquired, glancing sideways at the beorc with a raised eyebrow.