The half-angel smirked. "Why does that sound familiar...? I know what you mean; the pure elegance and adrenaline of flight is pretty intoxicating. And..."

He took a close look at the enchantment on her wrist. A really close look.

His eyes widened.

"Holy shit. That's a grade 7 speed enhancement charm. How did... where did... those take masters to cast... And one that's permanent?!" Eric leaned back slightly, mouth set into a wide grin. "I know it sounds stupid to say this, considering how you got the mark, but you are lucky as fuck."

Quote from Aquila

"Katrina's looking beautiful as always." Loch noted as he looked at the snake. He listened to the two's conversations before cutting in. "And I don't know about you man, but I'm not that young either. We're not only immortal, we're practically unkillable as well after all. However I guess compared to most humans we get to live our lives with a purpose. Sure you meet some comrades, but then they'll die and then you'll have to meet new ones and the vicious cycle will repeat itself." Loch shrugged. "I've met my fair share of immortals that have asked me to "help" them after a few centuries. The look in their eyes, they looked more like dolls than people." He chuckled.

"Well that got bleak quick," Blair nervously chuckled, "I assume you're one of the gladiators? I don't follow the curcuit too closely, if I'm being completely honest." Unconscionably, she rubbed the back of her head, hat bobbing ever so slightly as her palm moved. Maybe she didn't know what happened after death, and it was true she was next to two people who did, but she'd always liked her idea of paradise, an eternity surrounded by those you love and those you'll grow to adore. Thinking too closely popped too many holes in her perfect bubble, so being told facts likely wouldn't bode well.

"Hehe, the others say that it's my third highest stat after speed and perception." At which Ana redirected her self to finishing the mountain of food on her plate, her mind beginning to become preoccupied with the times she's gone cross country and further.

A sip of water later and a slightly cloudy stare on her face, "though I find myself wishing i was made for a more combat oriented role."

Eric took a quick sip of the lirnavov, and gently put the champagne flute down. "There's a group of you?" he asked. "Sounds like quite the close-knit group. What do you do that requires you to separate into combat and non-combat roles?"

Ana let out an exasperated sigh, "Well, you know not everyone gets the whole 'don't shoot the messenger' thing so that ends up meaning the need for escorts, and I've probably brought classified stuff before considering how eager those pursuers were about shooting my wings off, don't know their contents though, customer confidentiality and all that."

She suddenly let through a soft smile, "still won't say it didn't get my blood pumping, and I always feel safer with the guy who broke me out in the first place."

"You must care for them a lot," the half-angel replied, nibbling on a small beef pie. She slightly tensed up, probably in surprise. "It's pretty evident in your body language," he quickly elaborated. "I can't read people that much, but it's a pretty obvious sign from the way your always smiling when you think about them."

A settled feeling rested deep in Eric's stomach. Ana had put him completely at ease.

Nervous energies instantly roared into his mind and body. Instinct never allowed him to be at ease. A million dangerous thoughts assailed him, calling him out of his calm trance. The energy radiating from the glyph on her wrist kept on radiating outwards, excess overflow striking him in waves.

Familiarity seeped through his bones. A distantly memorable signature of energy suddenly hit him. Mere traces of magic, bonded to the glyph by accident. Magic capture. An incidental event caused by powerful magical energies leaving traces on objects, charms, and spells. The signature of the energy made him uneasy. It seemed so familiar... yet so distant...

Words flooded his mind, and images flashed before his brain, disordered and jumbled.
“Try harder? Okay, how’s this, you overconfident asshole!”
“Yes, yes, I yield, yield! Just please, please, make the pain stop! Too much pain! Too much pain!”
“Looks like you aren’t so tough after all, angel-ass.”
“Why am I so pale? How long have I been out? Why…"
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so, sorry.”

Rage and nausea swamped his mind, and he fought tooth and nail, letting no emotion show on his face. He recognised the energy; the traces of mariomancy. Erik Eolas. She knew Erik Eolas.

Did that mean he'd helped get her out? What was her role or job? Why did she trust a murderer?

Matters had gotten far more complicated.

Those in the medical profession would have referred to Halle in this moment as something to the effect of 'verging on vasovagal syncope.' They would note a paleness of the skin, low blood pressure and heart rate, and through talking with Halle, quickly discern that her vision was clouding and that she should lay down before she passed out from a lack of proper nutrients. Halle would have responded with something along the lines of 'no fucking shit,' delayed in its construction, likely relegated to a certain one-fingered gesture. She'd been here before and she knew what to do. Clutching her duffel bag and sitting down against a bathroom stall at the first sign of spots, the first thing on her mind was fluids. Water, bottled water, surely she'd remembered the bottled water.

She had, of course. Along with food and a change of clothes. Steak, green beans, and potatoes, she recollected -- and a dress.

Water! Had she forgotten the water? She panicked for a moment, her body seizing at the thought. She hadn't forgotten the water, where was it? In the duffel bag. Bottled. All she had to do was unscrew the caps and start drinking. But not from the flask. Anything but the flask. Why the fuck did she bring a flask, did she really need a fucking flask?!

Halle's fingers felt for a water bottle, soon finding one. Her eyes confirmed this with time.

Fluids slowly made their way into Halle's system. Food was next to come, starting with the wrapped steaks. She liked steaks. She had good memories with steaks. Had she really gone through all this trouble for some flaky greyskinned boy? That was so her. Leave it to Halle fucking Mackinson to work up a cold sweat eating mashed potatoes on the floor of a public goddamn bathroom. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Halle planned for stupid. Halle planned for dripping crumbs of overdone salisbury steak bits and green beans tasting like a rat's assfuckth intestine. When she got herself up off-- why, she'd tear that ghost motherfucker a...

Clothes. What was she wearing? Did they still fit her? Was that leg hair? Oh fuck no, that was not what it was that she thought that was, in fact, and something needed to be done. Halle was glad she'd gone into the transformation braless, but her tits were poking through her sleeves at this stage, and by golly that just wouldn't do.

If there were any way to carry a portable shower, Halle was positive she would've brought one. That in mind, she inched her way into one of the stalls and shut the door behind her, putting her skills to work.

She ran a hand through her hair. Jack fuck that sure did, trying to style without a mirror. She'd brought a mirror. Fuck the mirror. Stupid bitch. Get out of your pants. Quickly exiting her trousers, Halle was rendered unsettled by the sight. No matter -- a quick fix.

Shirt. Removed. Right. Naked.
Dress. Halle had a dress. Halle stepped into her dress.

Thankfucquaggly it fit -- better than her old clothes, anyhow, as Halle had grown significantly since donning them. Quantifiable measurements should be acquired at some point.

Halle had to piss.
Halle took a piss.

Sated, she stepped into her boots and put on her jacket. Slowly, she stood and opened the door to the stall. She looked in the mirror by the sink. She straightened her hair.

Was makeup even necessary at this point?
She shrugged.

Halle walked out of the bathroom.

((OOC: I think it's about time I get this thing under way. Aquila, I realize Alph most likely won't be ready to dance for a while, so Loch and Bartholomew can dance for now alright? Unless someone else would like to.))

With a shout from inside his booth, Happy, the DJ, raised and waved a hand for the fighters and fans to see. "Hey guys! I'm going to start with some jazz for now, but soon enough after that song has finished I'll be taking requests from you folks!" He proclaimed, a gleeful smile on his face.

As soon as he was done, some upbeat saxophone blared over the speakers, filling the ballroom with said tunes. Lionel, the head of security for the night, called from by the doors, "Fighters and Fans, the doors are going to open in two minutes!" He held two fingers to emphasize, "If you want to dance with your partner, I'd suggest you get on the floor now!" He bellowed.

Abbas, taking the first action, slipped an arm through Sarah's and gestured to the dance floor, "Shall we?" He asked.

Cassady had been busy and she had assumed that Abbas had been as well. He came back a little sooner than he expected but that was alright. Yes she was a little nervous at the prospect of dancing but she wasn't going to say no. Imagine if she did! She would have come all this way and invited a gladiator to a dance to which he accepted and then when everything was perfect she just quit. No she wanted to do this and she was going to.

"We shall." She smiled and followed him.

'Well that wait wasn't too bad,' Blair smiled to Clive, sliding her arm down before locking his hand, "I'm ready when you are!"

Following the statement, she made a quick glance around the ball, slightest hint of confusion in her eye when she came full circle, despite her attempt to hide it.

The Immortal smiled and guided the young lady onto the ever so slightly raised floor, giving her a gentleman's hand up. He listened to the track currently playing and tilted his head,

"Not exactly my style, but I do like some good jazz. Shall we swing?" He asked, offering a hand, ever so timidly.

Quote from Crank

"Well that got bleak quick," Blair nervously chuckled, "I assume you're one of the gladiators? I don't follow the curcuit too closely, if I'm being completely honest." Unconscionably, she rubbed the back of her head, hat bobbing ever so slightly as her palm moved. Maybe she didn't know what happened after death, and it was true she was next to two people who did, but she'd always liked her idea of paradise, an eternity surrounded by those you love and those you'll grow to adore. Thinking too closely popped too many holes in her perfect bubble, so being told facts likely wouldn't bode well.

"No, I'm just... a fan so to speak." Loch smiled simply. "And I'm not trying to make this bleak, I think humans are amazing people. What they can accomplish in 100 years is mind-blowing. I'm just saying, they were made to only live 100 years." He waved his hands. "Humans are social animals, and the life of an immortal... well isn't." Suddenly the DJ started up and Loch laughed. "Well enough of that, I have to go find my dance partner. So if you'll excuse me, though I'm sure we'll see each other again." He bowed and parted ways, Bartholomew hopping behind, holding tightly onto Loch's left hand as the reaper walked around the empty ball looking for Sarah. However not seeing her, he decided to join everyone on the dance floor, Bartholomew as his dance partner, the small penguin balancing on Loch's shoes and the two holding hands as they did a simple box step waltz.

"Any style is my style. I told you this was all new for me so yeah, lets swing." She sounded a little more nervous now that they were actually up on the dance floor with everyone else watching and she still didn't know how to do anything. But she was going to follow Abbas' lead and hopefully things wouldn't show too badly. And even if they did what was the worst that could happen? Actually she didn't want to think about that so she just focused on him and movements.

Abbas smiled, beginning to move, but abruptly stopped, noticing a tower of a figure approaching from the restrooms.

The Immortal squinted, trying to make out defining details, and gasped internally. It was the girl, the one from earlier, she had been at the snack table for mere moments, gathering whatever food she could before dashing into the bathroom.

But, that couldn't be right, the girl who went in was much shorter, no taller than five and a half feet. But this being was over seven feet tall easily, how could that be?

Abbas paused his dance and looked down at Sarah, an apology written over his face, "Pardon me, Miss Cassady, but would you excuse me for a moment?" He asked. Not waiting for an answer, rude of him he knew, the Immortal made his way off the floor and waved to the massive young woman.

"You there! Would you come here a moment?" He called.