Angry. Why was he angry? Her father was angry, her siblings, and now this male but the woman felt little anger herself. Fear, confusion, and perhaps even momentary rage- but there was no boiling, simmering, constant anger beneath the surface of her gaze. There was only a dull, throbbing pain, as if her heart was trying to escape her chest and call out for someone to save it. Her body shuddered softly as the scarred male pressed his nose into her side, she could feel the sharp intake of breath. He was trying to draw the scent from her skin, to know who it was who had hurt her. Her father had done the same. They wanted vengeance, all of them, but she could not tell if it was for her or for them. Were they simply trying to avenge the idea of her, the idea of what she had lost?

Ehiyeh's eyes glimmered at his question, and she drew in a steady breath. "Names, names... they mean little, don't you think?" She rasped, drawing back from him slightly so she could meet his gaze once more. "You know his scent. His face was cast in the glow of the moon, with eyes like embers... a body like a dancer. Beautiful, perhaps, if he were not such a heathen." Her voice had a distant, airy quality to it, as if she was reminiscing about times long past. He had been so kind to her, so gentle, there was no violence in his words, no demands. But he had taken something from her that was so precious, so innate that it must make him a monster. There could be no other outcome to his actions and yet the woman felt the smallest bit of regret that he would meet his fate at her father's paws.

"If you are seeking to avenge my purity you must beat my father to it, however, and in my name I do believe he would move mountains." She tilted her head. His eyes seemed to draw her in, deep down into a chasm that from which emanated only screams. Ehiyeh was not sure why this brutish man intrigued her so, perhaps it was the demanding, domineering tone of his voice or his willingness to skirt the boundaries of social acceptability. She assumed no mask with him for she did not feel that she needed to.

Perhaps she had been to blame, or at least partially, for what had happened. She had not reacted and instead stood there, paralyzed with horror as the man had taken what he wanted from her. Ehiyeh did not like to think of herself as weak, no child of Eden should be, but in that moment she had been. Weak and powerless. She let out a long, slow breath. "A name, though, can be useful. Mine is Ehiyeh. And yours...?"