GTB Hotel

A cab would pull up in front of the hotel. It wasn't the nicest looking cab around. It was rusting, squeaking, it's wheels weren't aligned and the light on top didn't turn on even with the switch flicked. The driver didn't bother getting out to open the door for the kid in the back seat. He didn't bother even unloading the bag from his trunk. He popped it so that the young competitor could carry it himself.

Needless to say, this cab was not one for the rich. It was one for a kid with a budget.

Thank god for the free room service that he was told he could have in the hotel once he was checked in.

Pip would stand in front of the grand hotel with a single bag full of clothes and equipment slung over his shoulder. He was wearing his leather jacket zipped up because the sun was down and he was uncomfortable with where he was. He shouldn't be here.

He didn't belong.

His right hand held the bag while his left hand rubbed it. He wasn't sure what he was doing here. He didn't like why he was being forced to fight. But he would. His left hand would rub a little harder as if to warm him up. Someone would approach Pip wearing a bell-boy's uniform and a great big tip-earning smile, but the young lad wouldn't respond. Pip's long blond hair would cascade down his back as he stared up the front of the hotel.

It was nice.

Who in the right mind would actually WANT to skip out on the sights this city had to offer? To take any form of transportation would dull the experience to such a degree that coming out here simply wouldn't be worth the while for anyone fresh to these wondrous sights. So as those cars whizzed by and motorcycles roared through the city streets this sole competitor would gaze in wonderment at the glamorous lights dancing across every sign and building, the vast waves of endlessly vibrant people, and even the very beauty that cascaded about the city's every ounce itself. She enjoyed every little bit of it, and would simple stroll along that sidewalk as she turned her eyes to every sight she could lay those eyes on.

"Umph!"

A sudden bump and a bit of clatter.

The wandering blacksmith shook off the daze only to realize that she'd nudged into another passer as she'd gone strolling along at her mindless pace. It was a bit embarrassing for the soul, sure, but not to the degree in which she'd freeze up completely. With only a moment of hesitation she'd stoop down to the ground and help gather up any possessions that might have spilled over for the pedestrian and continued to mutter apologies endlessly to the unfocused figure whom she paid little heed to for the time being.

Were some random rper to pick up on this they'd notice the blacksmith to be of a rather fine size, about 5'9" or so, and one would notice the care in her appearance and movements as her tanned skin felt smooth and soft to the touch, her motions careful as to not disturb the energy coursing about the space around. Her voice carried a gentle tone which rang a sweet chime of innocence within its cords, those sandy-gold eyes soothing and lost in their own realm. And while strung up with chords of leather with a travelers sack on her back, the clothing itself seemed to be well-kept and rather finely crafted for the sort of use it'd gone through in its time.

So with a flick across that brunette hair she'd finish sorting the items out before her fingertips, carefully ensuring that any loose items were tightly kept within a stable base before handing it back to the pedestrian once more. And with a slight bow she'd let that gentle voice of hers ring out once more, a slight blush overcoming her face like a tidal wave of doubt. "Oh... I'm... I'm terribly sorry..." She'd bow again. "I hope that everything is as it was."

A bit shy, but thus was the nature of the blacksmith.

If nobody felt like picking that line up she'd simply continue on to the hotel and commune with some fellow competitors there. It would be a bit of a walk though, but it wasn't like she was really in a rush. After all... there was still so much left to see before hitting that final mark for the day.

Unlike most of the competitors arriving in vehicles, Damon preferred his own special means of transportation. Once he saw a nice clear area near the hotel, he dropped out of flight and landed gently on the ground like a skilled paratrooper. Psychic Flight was the best, and most practical means of getting from one place to another, especially in world like Gaia.

For a moment, Damon stood silent and stared up at the large hotel. A fancy five star place, just like the last hotel he had stayed at some months ago while competing in Heaven or Hell. Actually, this place looked a little bit nicer and the surroundings were a bit more expansive. Once he finished taking in the sights, he pulled off his glasses that he used as shields against the wind, and stuffed them into his right pocket.

The black scarf wrapped around his head kept his silver hair from dropping into his face during flight, but he didn't take it off. It was comfortable. His other clothes were basic, a white shirt and black pants. Clothes he planned to fight in. Just encase of incidents where his clothing was shredded, he had brought a duffelbag along with him.

Damon walked up towards the hotel briskly, entering through the front doors and scanning the area like a curious, or perhaps lost, tourist. As soon as he found his way to the desk, he gave the man behind the counter his name, and she gave him a pass to his room. It was nice not to have to wait for the red tape to get cut or others to show up. For once. Without bothering to take in who was had arrived, he made his way towards his room. Damon planned to go out and explore after a nice relaxing nap. Flying near half-way across the world could be tiring on a fellow.

Jurie kept her concentration on the task at hand and was a bit oblivious to Reyin's approach, too befuddled by her blunder to get that tunnel vision away for even a moment to greet one of her few friends. What with being fresh in this world and all she had very little knowledge of people or places, knowing only a location or two which were pleasant to visit and where she felt a slight bit at home.

None the less by the time Reyin reached her side the blacksmith was all too aware of his presence, a sharp spike of energy shooting through her movements like someone just jacked her happy into full gear. She'd meet him with an eager bow, unconsciously making a second one before gazing up to him as a sheer sense of excitement sparkled within those sandy-gold eyes, a broad and overly joyful smile playing across those dainty lips.

"Mister Reyin!" She'd cheer out loud, her pleasant and careful voice giving way to the excitment of the moment, pausing only to accept the brochure and to give him a moment to speak his kind words. All the while she'd sort of fumble around, fidgeting with the paper between her fingers and overall seeming ever so restless with that man standing but a arm's length away. "Oh a guide would be most wonderful dear Reyin and the company even greater! For a bristle or two of warm faces make any occasion all the better to attend to!"

A tug at her mind sent her energy down, having to remind herself not to get too carried away in public. After all, image was very important to the blacksmith, and to allow herself to get so carried away so easily was simply not proper. Composing herself and attempting to settle that vibrant flourish welling within her grasp to a quiet whirl, Jurie would carry on as calmly as possible, her smile and voice still brimming with joy. "Oh, I came here this day to attend a sort of ritual that the outsiders participate in. Its some manner of festivity in which two individuals fight one another to better understand their limits, or something to that tone. A.... What do you call it..." She paused as she seemed to ponder the word for a while, her soft expressions furrowing with deep thought. "A tourniquet I think..." That was wrong, so very wrong. "Oh... and you Mister Reyin? What are you here for today?"

Vrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

Speeding off the horizon came a new vehicle, tearing down the highway towards the hotel. The engine rumbled as the black beast of chrome and steel screamed down the asphalt, coming in through one of the myriad of roads that led to the hotel's parking lot. The driver steadily accelerated, the roar of the engine hailing the arrival of the car's owner to anyone within listening distance of the parking lot. Above the din of the engine and any nearby crowd, a song could be heard blaring from the car's radio.

[HIGH--

VOLTAGE--

ROCK AND ROLL](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tvC-vENeF2E)

The Trans-Am screeched to a halt in a reserved parking space, the growling engine silenced along with the tumult of sound that came from the radio. The driver door opened, and the driver stepped out; all 6'3'' of him, garbed in black leather and blue denim, along with the usual gloves, shades, and bandanna-headband.

The returning champion, Deitric Jocasta, had arrived.

Heads turned and people surged to meet his approach as he walked towards the entrance of the hotel. Cameras flashed and questions were hurled at the tribesman, mics jammed into the air around him to vie for his answers. One gloved hand reached up and brushed them aside, while he murmured "No questions," as he passed. His features were calm, and he didn't shy from the flashes of the cameras. His shades blotted that out, at least.

The warrior opened the doors to the hotel, and disappeared inside, leaving the media to go after any other participants who were about. He waved away a bag handler who offered to take his things, and quietly signed in before disappearing into an elevator to find his room.

While Reyin didn't exactly show it outside of his smile, he was happy to see that Jurie recognized him. He hadn't spent a lot of time getting to know the blacksmith, but he felt like the girl was a kindred spirit all the same. Both were pretty naive (albeit one moreso than the other), suffered from extreme cases of wanderlust, and seemed to share in their desire to do some good in the world.

"Glad to see you still remember me Jurie."

As she took the brochure, Reyin jammed his hands into the confines of his pockets, leaning back and letting her thumb through the thing at her leisure. He had to admit, she was kind of cute while fluctuating between embarassment and excitement. That was probably the reason why he stayed quiet for just one awkward moment too long, finally shaking his head and chalking it up to her misinterpretation of what the GTB actually was.

"Tourni...quet?"

He paused for a moment, then shook his head and laughed.

"You mean tournament? You're here for the tourney? No way!"

And, to answer her question, Reyin removed his hands from his pockets and tapped his fingers against his chest.

"Me too!"

What a strange turn of events this was. Of all the places he expected to encounter Jurie, this was definetly the last. Nothing really against the blacksmith, it was just that he didn't picture her as the fighting type, especially not after their last encounter. He managed to quell his surprise, if only to continue the conversation.

"So, the hotel isn't for another few blocks..."

Reyin reached up and cupped his chin, casting his gaze skyward as though he were digging for a resolution that was just beyond his grasp.

"There's a sweet rotating restaurant nearby. Get an awesome view of the city up there, too. Whaddaya say we give that a whirl?"

Pun unintended, Reyin jerked his thumb over his shoulder and nodded his head in the direction of the 'Satellite', a large tower with a circular restaurant nestled right in the middle, spinning slowly.

Zaine walked up to the hotel, grinning widely at the sheer beauty of it. "Hope I can earn my stay here." he says dryly to himself shouldering his sword he makes his way to the entrance and asks the woman behind the counter where the tournament participants will be staying. She gave him the directions of his room and he bowed to her thanking her for his time. He took his keys and payed one of the employees to take his few belongings to the room, he was looking to meet some of his fellow competators.

Spyke perfectly content having aquired his room key and directions to the locale found a inconspicuous place in the entrance lobby and sat down in a style commonly called in the this country 'Indian Style' and focused his energies along with the worlds energies inward. He began meditating and merely feeling out the powers that were one by one showing themselves here. His purpose? There really wasn't one but as he found several of the participants interesting he meditated nearby and opened his eyes now and again to see who had entered.

"Oh!" She cried out in surprise from the sudden presence of Reyin's arm around her shoulder, a light blush working across her cheeks as she trotted alongside him to keep up with his pace. "Well... Its not all that bad..." Her lips curved into a delicate smile as she seemed to recall her time thus far which, for the most part, was mostly spent tending to various areas of the forests she slept in. Still, there were interactions here and there with these outsiders which kept her at a serious edge as to what to truly think of them all.

Still, Jurie was starting to meet a few people that were, in her eyes, much better than the company she shared in the village.

Curving her hand lightly around his hip her grip came pretty loose and pretty timid, the feel coming as more of a source of comfort rather than infatuation. She felt trusting of this man, this man she'd only met a few times in her adventures in the outside world. But really who could blame her for such feelings? She was alone in the world with nothing more than the chirping birds and gentle wind to keep her company. She couldn't return to the comfort of family and she didn't even know where her recent friends even stayed, most of them being wanderers like herself. So when a kind, familiar face like Reyin comes around who could blame her wanting to get so close?

After all, she didn't know when she could enjoy his company like this again.

"The outside world is... scary... but at the same time it holds this sense of excitement that just seems to take my breath away. Harsh, cruel, yet kind and gentle. Its hard to really say what this world is and what it can bring. But all the same..." Her eyes wandered up to the nearby spinning disk, her gaze filled with wonderment of the magnificent sight before her. "Its such a beautiful place... And I want to do something for this world that can make it all the more precious to those that leave the village, searching in my footsteps." She giggled to herself nervously, casting her eyes downward as she bit down lightly on her lip. "Its kind of silly when I say it out loud like that... But I want the others to meet those kind people that I meet and to see those special treasures that we all leave behind. A special place... a promised one."

A car whizzed by, coming a few inches from the pair and the blacksmith let out a cry, clinging to Reyin for a moment until the wind bristled by. She didn't seem to realize how close she was getting much less did it really seem to be an intentional reaction. All the same, she clung only for a moment before turning her gaze down the road to the careless driver. "Wow...." She paused for a moment to touch her cheek, her smile becoming gleeful and giddy. "What a strange creature that was... But my it can run fast!" She turned her gaze to Reyin with a great sense of curiousness and excitement welling within. "What do they call those creatures Mister Reyin? Why are there so many around the city?"

She had a thousand questions about the world, but only so many could be answered at once. My oh my how marvelous this girl was turning out to be.

"Golems? My.... What a strange thing to do..." She tilted her head to the side as she made her way inside, remembering to bow to Reyin and give him thanks for his kindness. For a few moments the blacksmith would glance around for a while, seeming to be at a loss not just as to where they needed to go, but also at the sheer majesty of the entryway which was laced with all sorts of decorations and fancy materials. Jurie couldn't help but rush towards a few of the nearby statues to give them a closer look, seeming to be enthralled with that for a moment until Reyin could catch up.

"Wow... its so gorgeous Mister Reyin!" She'd cheer with a smile while playing her fingertips across the tones of a nearby marble column, seeming to completely forget about the events outside. "I didn't even know that people could craft these sorts of structures, much less could they make it tower so high!" She turned to the man with a burst of earnest excitement, seeming much like a small child ready to open up a Christmas present just a little too early. "Come on! Lets hurry up and get going! I can't wait to see what the view is like up there!"

She paused for a time and began looking around, eventually finding a couple of people making their way towards the elevator and figuring it was best to go with them. So taking a soft grip over Reyin's hand she'd begin tugging him towards the elevator. Sadly though, regardless of how much enthusiasm seemed to ooze from her pours the doors slid shut just a few moments before she could reach it.

Oh well, they'd just hafta wait for the next one to come along here pretty shortly. Luckily for them the hotel had a second elevator and it seemed to be coming down pretty close to the lower floor. And with every click of that number that rang off the blacksmith would only get more and more excited, her grip tightening around Reyin's hand thoughtlessly as she bounced a slight bit in anticipation for what this new set of stairs would be like.

"Yaayyyy!!!" She'd cry out as she walked into the small compartment, sort of looking around here and there at all the designs in the elevator. The blacksmith really was like a little kid, come to think of it. Going out on a whim with a man who was, for all intents and purposes, taking her out on a date and she didn't even think anything of it, too encompassed with all the architecture and majesty of the building's design. When encountered with the option to push a button she could only assume that this was going to send them upwards in some sort of fashion, not really sure what to expect.

A click would ring out and the two of them would ride side by side in the strange machine, the blacksmith stubling a slight bit as her grip came across the rail.

"AaaaAhhHhhH!!!" She'd exclaim with a sudden wave of surprise overwhelming her sense of balance, feeling a slight tug work its way at her stomach as she tried to reclaim her balance atop the moving platform. Her grip began to shake and her eyes would dart around nervously in attempt to gather what exactly was going on. And when gazing out that window to watch their ascent the blacksmith couldn't help but let out a cry of distress as she clung tightly to the railing, her grip seeming to meld into the fine wood without any signs of letting go.

It was a frightening experience for someone who was practically Amish, sort of cute all the same. But after a moment or so of the motion carrying them upward she did begin to inwardly appreciate looking downward from the skies at where she'd been but moments before. A sense of accomplishment began welling within, though all the same... she wouldn't fully be able to take that grip away or stop cowering on that railing until they reached the top, much less would she say anything outside of a few frightened whimpers.

One day she'd look back at this moment and find this to be one of the most embarrassing events of her life. But it'd be worth a good laugh, at the very least, somewhere down the road.

A startling crack ran across the railing as she gripped on for dear life, the sad little girl letting out a cry as the view suddenly looked a lot less enchanting. "NonOnonOOnoNONo!!!!!" She'd jumble out in a flurry of distraught words, her grip damn near breaking that railing off the elevator wall. It wasn't until they were on the top floor that she'd let out another loud cry, this time of relief, as she came pouring out of the elevator, taking the prankster along with her as he attempted to escort her out.

All Reyin would see is a desperate charging little girl spearing him out of the elevator, clinging to him for dear life as they came barreling out of that door into the main entryway.

Poor guy... that might have been embarrassing for him, what with the scared little blacksmith clinging to him for dear life, unable to get up n' all.

But with some deliberating and prodding from either Reyin or the staff, whichever it may be, and the two would be at their seats, the woman still flushed and gripping to the man's arm for dear life with a rather fearful expression plastered on her face, truly unable to let go or ease up until the passing fear could drift away.

The staff, probably used to this sort of thing every now and again, had already placed a cool glass of water down in front of the girl who, in her own right, was sipping at it gently, her hand still glued to Reyin's upper arm for fear of falling from the top of the establishment.... somehow. It wasn't logical, but things never were when one was scared outta their wits.

She stayed quiet for now, awaiting a bit stronger words than that to make up for his little prank. it was okay though, the man would hafta suffer through her death grip until he either calmed her down or enough time passed for the dreadful experience to slip away from her mind. The view was doing well to ease her up though, the spinning disk giving her a fine sight of the entire city. At the rate it was going it would only take a minute or so to feel better again.

((Sorry for the delay Desi, had a lot going on there for a while. sweatdrop I should have a lil more time these next few days to rp. So I'll try to carry on the best I can. heart ))

Another day, another beatdown to hand out.

But it could wait. The martial artist went about taking care of hygiene first. As he stepped out of the shower there was a brief fanservice moment for all of the ladies out there as James toweled himself off.

With his wet hair matted to his cheek, and movie-star good looks, James might've passed for some sort of model were it not for the light scars that marred his body. James was not overly muscled, or a true heavyweight like many of the fighters here, but to say that he was built like the statue of a Greek god would've been a close description, although it would still fail to capture the power within a human body that was honed and trained since childhood to be a deadly blade against daemons.

Done, he threw on some basic clothes, white shirt, jeans, etc, and flipped on the TV. While not all of the matches were done yet, there where some that were.

He was pleased to see his friend, former teammate, and Champion Deitric defeat Omi Barsait. If things went well, he'd be facing against the dynamo soon, and James was bathed in sweet combative chills from just thinking about it. That, was going to be a fight.

Another fight's end was now on, between some girl and a guy named Damon. James found the name somewhat familiar.

The girl apparently just left the battleground after being injured over the eye. The crowd, apparently, didn't take this well at all considering the jeers and the boos she was getting.

James just facepalmed.

"No way in hell any self-respecting fighter's just gonna leave cause her beautiful face was maimed. What a joke"

Elliot awoke sometime the next day, in his room. Rising to his feet he realized he was perfectly healed. Without showering or even changing his clothes he left.

Reyin's smug little smirk upon seeing her reaction quickly shifted into a look of guilt, followed by sheer terror as he was literally carried out of the elevator.

"HURRRRK!"

It was a good thing they weren't leaving the restaurant, or Reyin probably would have traumatized the poor girl even more with a healthy dose of stomach acid and shellfish.

Taking her silence as an indication that he had screwed up, Reyin just kind of lowered his head and buried his face behind his menu. It wasn't that he was embarassed, it was that he was simultaneously ashamed of himself for causing such a huge freakout on her end and trying to hide the fact that Jurie's deathgrip on his arm was starting to hurt.

He bit his lower lip and ducked his head down, pretending that the restaurant's robust wine selection had something that caught his eye. Part of him was wondering if this was her way of getting revenge, and she awsn't actually scared at all. If that was the case, Reyin would no doubt hail Jurie as one of the greatest actors of their time.

"So hey...you know I didn't mean anything by that, right? Was just in good fun, didn't mean to scare you or anything."

That might not have been what she wanted, maybe she just really needed some time to catch her breath, but Reyin felt bad both physically and mentally, so whatever it took to get that anguish over with sooner was totally worth it at this point. In a last ditch attempt to save his arm from being broken prior to the tournament starting, Reyin looked out the window and pointed with his free hand.

"Hey, there's our hotel!"

Reyin was relieved on two fronts. The first, and probably most immediately important, was that waves of pain were no longer shooting up his arm. The second, and perhaps more important in the long run, was that Jurie seemed to at least take his apology under advisement. Then she took his bait, geting distracted by the hotel and allowing the poor blonde kid to retract his arm and massage the wounded area, trying to work out all the soreness before the girl turned around.

Didn't want to look like a sissy in front of the lady, after all.

Once that was settled, he took a drink of water and cast his eyes towards the window, getting a good look of the landscape as their view continued to rotate at an excruciatingly slow pace. In a matter of minutes, the hotel was no longer in sight, and the view was replaced by the (ocean? mountains? where the crap is the tournament again?) landscape just outside the city limits. Unfortunately they had missed the money shot with sunset, but the night sky was still pretty breathtaking.

"Pretty amazing when you think about all of it. I mean, you look out into the distance and you can't even see any people. Just makes you realize how small we are in the grand scheme of things."

He cracked a bit of a smile.

"But even with that in mind, Gaians have shaped this world in so many different ways. Us. Tiny little people that can't even push over a big rock."

Maybe he was just being a little melodramatic, but that was how Reyin was. If something wasn't super amazing or cool, he wouldn't be talking about it.

"I don't do what I do because I want recognition-"

**One Arian Lennox was out by the pool, reclining on some plastic chair-reading a book in some foreign language, HER native language, Courtelli.

She wasn't in a swim suit, or even shorts-worn looking jeans, cloth boots, a sleeveless turtleneck-the dusky skinned native looking just a bit odd among the tourists and what not lounging.

She didn't care. People were leaving her alone.

Glossy black hair had been pulled into a pony tail, vibrantly colored eyes straying from her book only to follow people who walked too close to her chair-otherwise, she seemed absorbed in what she was reading.

Only in learning could she quell her temper. Had she no book-she would have ended up on a fiery rampage throughout the hotel.**

"I do what I do because they've been wronged, and I want to make it right."

"I don't do what I do because I want recognition-"

**Some man walked by, giving her an odd look either for being fully dressed-or for being foreign. Arian wasn't sure. Either way-the dusky skinned islander shot him a warning glance over the top of her book-and he scurried off.

Full lips tightened into the slightest of frowns as a slight sparkle caught her attention-not from the water...but...the roof.

Her frown left her face as her vibrantly colored eyes narrowed slightly. A normal person would have thought 'paparazzi'. Or even just sat there confused.

Not Arian. It was rather...startling, really, the millisecond it took for her to take action.

She threw the book violently to the side as she lifted her knees and then thrust them forward to burst/rock to her feet out of the chair-sprinting the few steps it took to the pools edge and jumping, her hands already together over her head, body curving as Arian took a breath-and dove beneath the water of the pool, shooting through it like an arrow-JUST as the chair and small table beside it exploded, concrete, glass, warped metal and obliterated plastic flying everywhere, women screaming and men ducking to take cover-before a few people rose up halfway to stare at the scene while others fled.

What the fuck?

Exactly what Arian was thinking.

Well, that, and how much she hated chlorine...

Her eyes were closed tightly as she found a corner of the pool, turning to put her back against it and sit at the bottom, the pressure making her ears hurt a little before she corrected that by blowing air with her nose held-she was at the side of the pool where he wouldn't be able to see her, below him sort of but not really.

She kept her eyes closed, because when she came up to find the bastard or to flee-she wanted to be able to see, dammit.

She should have known this would happen. The DT she'd been alright-but they had nutso security there.

Broadcasting her location with these tourneys...Dammit Charlie.

Not to say she didn't have some fun-but getting hounded by hunters on all sides was going to prove fatal, she didn't watch it. After all-Arian spent a lot of time on the run.**

"I do what I do because they've been wronged, and I want to make it right."

"I don't do what I do because I want recognition-"

**Amazing reflexes indeed. Helped she was paranoid as fuck-then again, she had to be.

That-and some luck here and there, in a life rather void of it, otherwise. After all-had she not shot the glare at the passing man-she would have never seen the glint and the man.

As if was, debris had rained down into the far side of the pool-causing Arian to have to open her eyes. What if he had another one of those things?

She briefly thought about boiling water burning her skin, something striking her and knocking her out-well fuck. But at the same time-surfacing too quickly invited her head to be blown off. Arian fumed beneath the water as her body started to deplete the oxygen she'd taken into her lungs-yet she dared not exhale any of it.

She looked up, intending to kick off the bottom of the pool and rocket up-when some feet to her left, about right across where she had originally dived in-an arm shot into the water.

Son of a bitch.

Furious, Arian kicked violently off the bottom of the pool, her right hand slapping down on the pool's edge, shoving up immediately-ouch, her shoulder-as her left drew the full sized dagger sheathed at the small of her toned back. Her side hurt from scraping against the edge of the pool-but she had no time to pop to her feet, for no doubt-the man would be coming for her, she was only six or seven feet away.

Arian yanked herself up and into a roll, possibly just as he attacked or started for her-it all happened so FAST!- sopping wet jeans heavy-but nothing compared to her leather and weapons she usually wore for fighting.

She'd pop to her feet and pivot, her own dagger drawn in her left hand, her vibrantly colored eyes lit with an intense and hotly burning fire, expression one of temper.

"Fire at me from a ROOF?" Her tone suggested he was a coward, and that this-not the fact he had tried killing her-made her more furious than anything.

Her words were accented, an exotic lilt to her vowels, a softening of harsh sounds-musical, nearly, pleasant-and heated, venomous.

Internally, she was sickly pleased with this development. Finally. She got a fight.

And what a START.**

"I do what I do because they've been wronged, and I want to make it right."

"I don't do what I do because I want recognition-"

**((xDDDDD SERIOUSLY?! Laughs))

Beautiful indeed. Red undertoned, brownish dusky skin was slick with moisture, glistening as droplets ran down her body in little rivets-glossy dark hair was flat out black in it's pony tail, longish bangs swept to the side impatiently with her right hand.

Her eyes were a vibrant, vibrant blue, the color of pure, tropical seas off the coasts of islands-contrasting sharply with her dusky skin and black hair. She had a pert nose and full lips, almond, rounded eyes of an appealing shape and color-and oh my.

Definite curves. An islander's curves-with a small waist and toned but feminine musculature, her arms and legs-the jeans clinging to her strong thighs and toned calves.

She was conditioned and clearly a warrior, the brand on her right shoulder blade making no doubt this was the right lady. Well-the brand and the fact her eyes were lit with FIRE, so furious that it seemed wrong they WERE blue, a color of supposed serenity-oh no. Not here.

Her lips parted to bare her teeth slightly, an angry, feral sort of expression-and yet she was still beautiful, a wild kind of beauty.

A little five foot two amazon.

There was that 'babe' word again. Except this guy wasn't a friend. He was a rocket firing asshole.

Her near snarl faded into a mildly confused expression-the native translating his English-and then becoming angrier because of it. Her temper built and built as he talked about dragging her corpse somewhere, called her a 'hot chick'-like she was some woman to oogle, some piece of meat-and not a warrior.

He said the name Ortiz. Arian's mind filed that away for later investigation-and possibly murder. The rest of his words hardly made sense to Arian-except he seemed to expect her to die or...something.

Her temper burst into flat out rage at his wink and leering, perverted smile-how DARE he act-the son of a-

She was incensed, the flames of her temper burning at the core of her as Arian, in her bent kneed, ready stance-threw her weight to her following right foot, that hand grabbing hold of a small glass side table, one of those plastic ones with the glass top, square-and threw her weight back onto her leading left foot as her right arm and shoulder thrust forward-looking to smash the fucking thing right on his face and shoulders.

The BASTARD!

"Good luck with that-I intend to rob you of those features." Arian hissed-all she could do to keep herself from rushing his arrogant, lecherous ass-keep herself smart by staying back, watching his knife and his hands, waiting for him to do something stupid-she only had the one knife. That was it.

Her dagger was lethal looking-and had a blackened blade. Her left hand twirled it absently with an impressive amount of dexterity as she stood there, lightly shifting a little back and forth, ready to move for him-watching.

She was furious. But she HAD to keep control of her stupid temper-one more word out of this guy and she was done.**

"I do what I do because they've been wronged, and I want to make it right."

Devin watched the womans demeanor deteriorate into all out rage. Oh she was a fiery one. He'd have liked to meet up with her in a bar or something. Hell he was about to kill her if he knocked her out and had some fun first he'd consider this a deal from heaven. Unfortunately he didn't have time to screw this one. Nor did he expect to have the opportunity even if he did have the time. She was pissed enough to fight till her body was all torn up and shredded.

He jumped back out of the way of the table just in time and then he rushed forward. Deftly weilding his blade he closed the distance quickly and slashed at her. Right through the space her pretty little neck and torso occupied. Following that he'd jump out of her dagger range miss or hit.

"What a waste. You and I could had a good time. A really good time at that. I know some stuff you wouldn't believe.....oh wait. Yeah you will. You'll see some stuff before I finish with you. Not like all those 'moves' are meant for bed anyhow." Would it piss her off more?

OOC: Yes seriously. I figured you'll eventually kill him so I might as well make him a sleeze bag. Hope you don't mind.

Devin would be slightly put off by the woman's to maul him. He'd not allow it to be so. Sure she could have the knife. He'd let go and bring his free hand up to hook her neck. Then instead of jumping back he'd fall back and raise his foot and place it on her midriff if at all possible. He'd catch her outstretched fist not before it hit him in the jaw. It hurt like hell but nothing broke. Using her momentum he'd jump of his free leg with a fair amount of strength. This of course would place them in the the air with him jumping easily pulling her body weight along.

Pulling her up and over was no problem and with his foot placed against her stomach even partially he'd be able to propel him over his head into the air. As irony would dictate she would be heading for a table of the same type as the one she'd attacked him with. Of course throwing her would propel him back down to earth on his back so he'd roll back to his feet and rush after her drawing another knife.

"She's almost as much trouble as the reports said. Guess I better get my head back in the game."

And as the light of the moon filtered through the half shut blinds a young woman worked with great care. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of her face. Her fingers masterfully guided the needle and thread to pull together the torn fabric of her pants leg. Hours earlier she had slaved over a tub of water and soap to remove the stains of reds, browns, and pinks. And now dry after the sun had completely set and night fallen, she works. Quietly, focused, she was prepared for what was to come.

The night before second round was to commence and she worked. A straight face, narrowed eyes struggling with the small amount of light provided for her. She wouldn't be sleeping. She wouldn't be praying. She simply would be preparing her uniform, preparing to show the world just who the hell she was. And on the floor she remained through out the night with a crutch leaned against the same bed her back was against. It did not matter if she were fully recovered or not. She was going to show her unfortunate opponent and the world that she will not go down so easily.

And her fingers continued to move with the utmost skill, fueled by the passion of a youthful fiery spirit.

"I don't do what I do because I want recognition-"

((Blink Wha?))

SPLASH!!!!

Arian fought to keep a hold of her knife, but he was stronger than she was. Hissing air out of her mouth, Arian gave up on the knife, releasing the knife in order to yank her arm out of his grip-quickly wrapping her legs around his body, pinning the arm that had grabbed hers to his side-his other free to go for her throat, but the same metal mesh stopped him from squeezing, stopped him from possibly breaking her neck just in his fist-or God only knew.

Arian's eyes were open. Higher up now, her powerfully toned thighs crushing his rib cage, forcing any pent up air out of his lungs-she stared straight at him, fire in the pretty blue orbs.

A...strange sort of coldness was there also. His life was forfeit. She felt no emotions for this amateur killer.

Her left arm would grip his shoulder tightly, keeping her body upright as her legs kept pressure on him, waiting for him to pass out-waiting to leave him down in the water to drown. Her right arm would force up between them, trying to force his hand from her throat. She didn't want him to die still gripping her-sure, she could take the collar and the shirt off, but she didn't want to lose the expensive ass metal mesh collar-she wasn't made of Gold, despite being worth a mil.

Arian was calm as she waited. Furious, yes-but also calm. Because he was going to die-and she wasn't.

Period.

"I do what I do because they've been wronged, and I want to make it right."

"I don't do what I do because I want recognition-"

Her own lungs were aching. Arian needed air. His lips parted, desperate to take in air despite the fact his mind knew it was hopeless-water rushing into his lungs, filling them-Arian idly wondered if they'd burst, right here in front of her.

She stayed. No way would this man get out of this alive. There would be no heroic rescues. No rushing to the hospital. She would make sure he died here. His eyes stayed open, stayed on her-and Arian didn't care. She was cold to him. To his life. Let him die. She wanted him dead.

And then his gaze fixed on some point beyond her, beyond this world-heaven or hell, she didn't know and didn't care. Foam at his mouth, slipping past his lips-Arian pushed his arm easily away from her, her thighs slipping from his body. She swam upwards-while his body slipped down, down, down to the bottom of the pool. She knew it'd stay there for as long as it took before his body bloated and it rose to the top.

She knew he'd be dragged out by then.

The onlookers, still gawking at the pool but too afraid to stray near it (that smoking crater was a damned good reminder to be afraid, after all) all jumped when a dusky skinned arm shot out of the water, the slightest bit of a flail to it-before the small hand slapped down on the edge of the pool, a dark head of hair emerging after it, her pony tail holder missing, her coughs audible-though not her near urge to throw up.

Despite what the papers said...despite what people thought...Arian was not hardened to killing. A shiver went through her, quickly repressed as she dragged herself out of the pool, aware people were staring at her-and the horrified gasps made it clear they realized why only ONE person was getting out of the pool.

Arian blinked rapidly, shielding her eyes with her hand in a natural way to hide it-then she stumbled once-straightened-and walked with her normal stride around the pool-stared at and feared and God only knew what else. She bent to pick up her book she had thrown.

She was shaky, but no one but her knew it. Her throat was tight, but no one but her knew it. Arian opted out of going into the hotel. Could be someone waiting for her in there, in her room. She also was wary about going to security. They might arrest her, competitor or not. She moved quickly across the court yard, intending to take a quick exit, grab her bike-and disappear until the next round.

A news reporter or two had come running in, having heard about an explosion and some commotion in the pool area. No one noticed the sopping wet woman cutting across the hall. Rather-if they did, they didn't point her out. No one would know what she did until she was out of here.

She'd be back when it died down, and she could hide from the media.

And all the while, from the courtyard to the air conditioned hotel to the lawn where she had parked her bike-the brand on her shoulder burned, and she half felt like all the world could see it, maybe even from space.

"I do what I do because they've been wronged, and I want to make it right."

Zoom zoom.

That was one hell of a nice bike.

Brought to replace his old, wrecked Nightster, the Harley-Davidson Night Rod Special wasn't a shy beast at all in light of the attention it and its rider was garnering.

James Eredas was very clearly leaving the Hotel, packed with alot of supplies, and what looked like all of his gear. The martial artist himself sported a black jacket, and jeans, looking very much hot as hell as he mounted the bike.

The reporters came, they asked the usual questions, then they asked if he was leaving, because, you know, the gear.

Yes, I am leaving. No, not in that fashion. I have three days to get back right? I'll be back by then. My last match? I did fairly well, I think I'll pass. Yeah, I didn't use fire, where you all hoping for a lightshow? Haha. The round seemed to pass too fast. Well, enjoy yourself, I'll be off.

Hops out of shower and towels off. Sighing he walked out of the bathroom into his room, now minus even the towel, and comes across his food. Smiling he grabs it and sits down to eat.

After consuming the whole of the meal Spyke lays back completely stuffed and sighs in satisfaction. He decides its time for a well needed rest so he cleans up his dishes as best as possible and collapses on the bed.

Almost instantly he passes out. After nothing but hospital beds and food for the first two rounds of this tournament he felt like he had gone to heaven with the hotel arrangements. So it was that he fell asleep for what he hoped would be a long rest.

Upon returning to his room after a six hour flight from Black Sand Island to the hotel, Damon was pleased to see the outcomes of the fights posted neatly in the lobby. The psion was beaming with confidence even before he read of his victory - made all the sweeter by Rachel's expulsion from the tournament itself.

To him she had been little more than a fly that desprately needed to be swatted. All that anger and emotion driving each of her attacks, it forced her to make mistakes, that was absolutely no way to fight. It held no tact whatsoever. A quick glance down the list revealed a few more nice surprises, such as the defeat of another fighter Damon hadn't cared for.

Now to see who he was going to be matched up against.

At the very bottom of the board were the round three pairings, each one neatly written with a stylish 'v' between the competitors names. "Lessee, here, Deitric versus Reyin. Oh, that'll be a lot of fun. AH! Here it is! Damon versus Esouna."

The psion's smiled turned into a very small frown and a little pang of annoyance went up through his chest.

Esouna was that fairy creature he'd seen in the match replays. Was that really who he was being matched up against? It almost seemed like coincidence had decided to keep the gag going. "Eh, well... at least it'll be enjoyable this time. Anything is better than a bat swinging rage monkey."

Slipping his hands into his pockets, Damon made his way towards the rooms in the upper areas of the building.

As soon as he got in his room he noticed the gold envelope sitting on a dresser with his name written on it. How nice? Maybe it was something a little more in-depth about the matches? Maybe an apology from his previous opponent for being such a bad sport? He could dream.

Quickly nabbing it from the dresser and flopping down on his bed, he peeled the back of the envelope open and pulled out a piece of paper and began to read it's contents.

Quote: Wrote:

> "Dear Fighters: > > I will first like to apologize for making you fight in that storm the other day. As a hazard as it was, I wanted to test your spirits and prowess within such a weather, for a true warrior can stand up to even the strongest of storms. Fortunately, no one got struck by lightning, so let us feel thankful for that. > > Tomorrow, your next match will begin. The match ups have already been posted in the lobby downstairs. I have decided to make it up to the fighters who still remain in this tournament by giving you a more sunny venue to compete in. North of here is some mountain ranges called the Tophead Mountains. It will be there where you all will be fighting next atop your own plateaus, and will be transported via helicopters. So rest up and be ready for tomorrow's matches. > > For those of you who need their equipment repaired, you may go visit our new addition to this tournament, the GTB Blacksmith. Go there and they will be glad to fix up your weary swords, armor, and the like."

"Man, this guy sure does lay it on pretty thick. I suppose I can't disagree with his methods though, but there are better ways to go about than dropping people off in a thunderstorm."

Damon had not been affected by the weather, having traveled almost all of the world he'd been through, and endured, much worse than that. He already proved that he could overcome the elements by the sheer power of his will alone. Both literally and figuratively.

"Fighting in the mountains on top of a plateau, eh? Well... that sounds interesting enough. I could use a hike to get my blood pumping anyway. Hope the winds aren't too strong, I'd had to get blown off down a cliff!"

Once Damon finished reading the letter he tossed it into the trash and went about unpacking the few things he had brought with him. His gear for one, and some bandages and a few snacks for pre-fight purposes.

Tomorrow would begin the 3rd round, and to Damon, this was looking like it was going to be a breeze.

Spyke nodded as he looked up at the sign. He'd not packed anything so all he had to do was hand in his key. Life seemed to be a funny thing indeed.

He smiled at the woman behind the counter as he passed over the key. He didn't stop to see if there were any loose ends to take care of. He knew that everything was free but he left some money on the counter anyway to cover things.

As he strode out the front doors he looked up at the sky. For the time being it was blue. Happy to see that one of the biggest parts of the world hadn't changed since he'd entered the tournament. Nodding to himself he glance over his shoulder one more time. Maybe someday he'd make it past round two.

He faced the building before himself and bowed before he turned away and walked up the street opposite the way he'd walked in. An interesting thought on his mind that he posed to himself.

"Where to now?"

"I don't do what I do because I want recognition-"

Arian was long gone. She had waited around for the judge results, and to her mild amusement-was dealt another loss.

This one, Arian did not mind. Reyin had been a good and interesting opponent-he hadn't whined and annoyed her with pissy male behavior. He had sucked it up and dealt back what he could. Sure-he was impossible to be pissed at, but that was her short coming, not his.

Arian had gotten a damned good fight, finally-unlike her first go round.

Her previously occupied room was now empty, looking EXACTLY as Arian had entered it-rather surprising the maid who came in after to clean up. The bed had never even been slept in, oddly enough-or looked as such. The ice bucket was in it's corner. The little bar of wrapped soap and shampoo bottles, lifted from a hotel cart, were both near the sink faucet in the bathroom. The television remote was perfectly lined up with the corner of the bedside table. Even the no smoking sign was smartly placed.

There was no trace ANYONE had stayed here at all-no trace of Arian.

Outside the hotel however, cut into the lawn-there was a depression and dead grass where a stolen motorcycle had been, a certain sleek little number that was light weight and painted a shiny red.

Arian Lennox had ditched like a bad habit, still never explaining or bothering to discuss her involvement in the death of the bounty hunter and the crater near the pool.

She had learned nothing from her first fight, nor her experience with the hunter-but she had things to glean from the fight with Reyin. And that was all she could say for the GTB tournament.

Period.

"I do what I do because they've been wronged, and I want to make it right."

Vince had rolled out of bed hours before, nursing the freshly healed wound in his stomach taken from one Benjamin Nicolai. He had, once again, thrown himself into perilous injury just to get a telling blow, one he hoped that would throw him into the next round and beyond. Regardless, he'd been summoned by one of the room keepers and told of a lunch hosted by none other than Midus Sonners, owner of the GTB. Originally, Vince had spit at the idea of entertaining a rich business man, but had decided it would be in his best interest to attend the luncheon in hopes of learning a bit more about this man's interests, his tastes.. and his picks on favorite fighters.

A snap of leathery wings sounded out as Vince walked into the dining hall for the event, having chosen to keep himself in a half-draconic form for the after-noon. After-all, he was a dragon, and it was close to his natural form; at this point, almost everyone in the tournament knew exactly what he was, and exactly how he fought. Regardless, he never ceased to amaze people when he walked through a sword stab to the stomach and went straight for a punch to the face with spiked gauntlets. Vince shook his head with a grin in fond remembrance as he walked towards the men who were finely dress, Midus' muscles showing firmly through the suit he wore.

Vince's muscles, on the contrary, were exposed for everyone to see; he was dressed in the natural green scale which wrapped about his body. His massive tail stuck out from his lower back, just above the athletic basketball shorts that Vince wore to keep his nether-region covered in a public atmosphere. Other than that, Vince looked.. draconic. His mouth jutted out into the trade-mark snout, a row of teeth lining the jaw due to Vince holding his mouth slightly agape as he stopped infront of Midus and offered his massive clawed right hand.

"A pleasure, my lord. Vincentius Alaphare, at your service." With that, Vince bowed his head in feigned respect; after-all, at this point, Vince was only here to kick ass and win this thing. He really had no interest in small talk except for to learn, and learn he would do.

It was quite the opposite from what Midus thought. It was a dragon trapped in the confines of a man's small body, only increased to feel more comfortable by allowing the wings and tail to show themselves. Other than that, the dragon was really hidden behind the small, weak body of what most people would consider "A massive man"; and paled in comparison to that of Vincentius' real form. Regardless, that was something that would not be shown until later on in the tournament, perhaps if he were to stand in the ring during the finals, victorious, for all to see his true form and glory.

For now, however, the dragon simply raised his snout and peered at Midus with the serpentine emerald eyes which adorned his scaled face. The dragon nodded at Midus' comments and responded in his deep voice which rumbled from the massive jaw in a rough and husky voice; for the time being, Vince spent all of his concentration on making sure none of his acidic vapor leaked from his nostrils or from his throat, as that could be a bit.. bad.

"My ferocity on the field is the least I can show for the spectators and yourself. I was invited to be here based on some past physical prowess, and I accepted only to show the people what I could do. Unfortunately, I've seen not too many of my fans; my.. " Vince stopped and took a look around the room, pretty much empty except for a few people standing around talking, paying little attention to the dragon and Midus. "My.. composure scares people, I believe. They're not used to seeing something so beautiful and elegant as a human transform into a killing machine."

The dragon's jaw shifted slightly, the lip curling to show a row of sharp teeth; the teeth that had been the key to victory against Third Round contestant James Eredas. The teeth were not a threat in this case; they looked as if they were supposed to show a grin, and grin Vince did. A moment later, Vince returned the snout to its original position and spoke once more. "Have you enjoyed yourself in the ferocity of my battles, good sir?"

"Have I? Oh, I assure you, each and every fight that has happened thus far has been very enjoyable. Nothing less to expect from the Gaian Tenkaichi Budokai. Keep up the good work and you may just be this year's champion."

Midus gave equal gratitude toward every fighter still in the tournament. To him, the best drama was one where you saw the most unexpected outcomes. Though Deitric was the champion of last year, it would be interesting to see who challenges him for it this year. The man has shown straight wins for first three rounds, but he wondered when Deitric will finally meet his match. Thus far, the only one to give him that type of rivalry was Omi Barsait, and the two have yet to enter into a more high tier battle other than concentrating only on their body to attack. The suspense was quite a killer to curiosity.

"Though I have to admit, your physical form does give you quite the advantage. Don't let it get to your head. Even a tank falls after a few hits. And I'm sure that arm wasn't easy to heal from the last round."

Midus's eyes moved over to Pip, a reaction to feeling the expansion of psionics spreading through the room. Not many people could tell this was happening, but Midus surely knew, recognizing the man as another one of the fighters named Pip. This man was odd, but with his win streak thus far, he was considered a wild card that may go far in this tournament if he kept his wits about. The guy was clearly a no-name starting to gain a name. Those type of people always made fighting tournaments even more of a thrill to watch.

Another Guest?

The fairy would be just as curious to the boy as was the dragon, though Pip wasn't really afraid. The smaller creature was more cute then intimidating, and her sitting on top of the table planted that thought even more firmly in Pip's head.

Dragon = Scary

Fairy = Cute

The thought didn't even cross the boy's mind that if she had made it this far then she must not be someone to trifle with. Her buzzing around the room and sitting down was little more than entertainment, like the man swallowing fire before his last fight.

But Pip wouldn't approach her any more then he had already, in being of close proximity to the behemoth and his dandy friend.

Esouna would be allowed to far surpass the human average:

While Pip continued his cautious study of the Dragon.

Midus looked over at Pip next, giving a nod toward his direction.

"Ah, Pip. It is so nice to see another one of my fighters here. I will like to give my gratitude for your efforts thus far in my tournament, too. I haven't seen a man of your talent in a while. I look forward to seeing you in the later rounds."

A humble man who wanted his fighters to feel comfortable and respected, he always felt like he held high responsibility toward the participants. If they weren't having fun, then the crowd was not going to have fun. A good fight was all that he wanted to see come from the rounds and he would make sure that is what the people get. "Especially considering the arena you guys are going to fight at next. I assure you, it's going to be quite the sight."

Midus walked over to the table to grab himself some finger food, though he watched as the fairy of the tournament was enjoying the luxury of her buffet. He gave a small laugh, the amusement coming from seeing such a small person eat so much.

Elliot would stumble into the ballroom about 45 minutes into the event, instantly sticking out like a sore thumb. He was decked out in the same gear he normally wore for the most part, black baggy shorts, black hightops, and a white t-shirt. His black hair was sloppily swept across his head, visible only for a moment before he covered it with a black baseball hat, embroidered with a white "D" on the front, that stood for Durem of course. He had to rep his hood. Even with the hat, he couldn't hide the groggy, just hopped up outta bed, look in his eyes. In his previous match he caught the eye of some senoritas who wanted to try his prowess in other affairs. So he obliged all four five of them. For now though, his tired brown eyes scanned the room, passing over the food and smiling faces. He was looking for Bishop so he could tell him how cash that shit was.

He had to be in here. El knew that fucker wouldn't turn down free food.

The mages had finnaly been able to see him and give him leave after an extensive healing session that took an entire hour. It made him feel as if he was more hurt that he had originally thought. Putting these ideas aside he walked into the area where all the fighters were gathering due to invite from Midus. Like the hoodlum he was, he wore nothing fancy to the occasion. It wasnt that he couldnt afford it for here the opposite actually applied. He was sent off to this tournament with enough money to get by and then some but it was Jame's money and not his. With this in mind he merely used it for emergencies and this wasnt one of them. Baggy blue jeans and a white button up shirt did him quite fine, however, he was polite enough to throw on his best vest over it.

Clutching his right side as hee walked somewhat gingerly towards the table where food laid in wait, his eyes catching sight of Midus and.... a dragon? "Well, Ill be damned. Its true." He muttered to himself. He really didnt want to have to deal with a dragon in a match. That would be one hell of a fight, fun maybe, but quite difficult to manuver around tough armor yes. "Who else is here?" He questioned himself as he looked around, catching sight of Pip, Esouna, and Elliot. "Heh, this will be fun..."

Even Heroes needed to eat. Link would be likewise gorging himself on the free food, his left arm mildly slow about the task of lifting his fork to his mouth, but otherwise well enough to move to-and-fro. The GTB's medical team of spell casters, anatomy experts, and healers had done their job well. Was that Bishop and Pip? If Link noticed them, he did not betray it by slowing down his face stuffing. Navi was around, but the Master Sword and Link's shield were nowhere to be seen.

If Navi was around, then Esouna stopped eating for a moment to fucking CHASE THAT THING.

Because sometimes, you just want to be a bitch. Also, the color of the glow interested the larger fairy, and it would make for good agility training.

Malon watched innocently as he fell down onto his bum, acting like it wasn't her fault. She gave a giggle before screwing the cork back on and looking down at her fallen hero.

"What's wrong, Link,"she said to the guy, her country accent strong. "If you're this easily caught off guard, thar ain't no telling what you're going to meet out there on the battle field. I've been cheering for you so far, doncha lose anytime soon. I'm waiting for you to win and bring the trophy back to Hyrule."

Then she stared another moment before adding: "Though we still need to find a way back to Hyrule."

Somewhere in the back of it all, the platinum haired fighter so cutely named 'The Bone Queen' was lounging. She'd been invited to this tournament not as a participant, but a special guest. That said, she was certainly going to make the most of her time here. Namely studying those fighters that had gathered.

A sweep of her ruby optics, seemingly glowing with hellfire itself, would cast their judging gaze upon those gathered.

To tell the truth, the swordsman would have preferred to use the time to get back to training on his basics. Bu~t...

*Growl*

How can he work on getting his skills back up to par, when his stomach is rumbling like a thunderstorm? Hunger pangs aside, the next guest that would arrive to the lunch event would be the swordsman, his hood pulled back to reveal his dark colored hair, his eyes sweeping across the area to see the bountiful amounts of food just...sitting there. All lined up neatly.

Tasty-looking food. Thirst-quenching drinks.

His expression narrowed a bit, as if a cat targeting a prey. Hands tensed. Upper body leaning slightly forward.

And with one swift motion... The swordsman grabbed an empty plate nearby, feeling the faint texture across his gloved hands before he waltzed to the nearest table - To begin acquiring, a long deserved feast.

"Ch'yea , you know how I do. Speaking of how I do, I saw these fly-ass chicas in the crowd..." He started, before going into vivid and graphic detail, using all sorts of hand gestures and stuff. "But che'yea, I wouldn't esweat it if I was you. But inna case you don't move on I got some good news. Word on the estreet is TFOA is done wit'. Mosta' dem either gave up or are visitin' San Pedro, or more like el Diablo. That means we can get back to business uninterrupted, comprende? I already called Gable to hold shit down till' we get back."

His hair raised on end.

It wasn't the fact it was too obviously the infamous Midus Sonners as his voice was a well known pattern in this tourney. Neither was it that Omi's order was being interrupted, given he'd already more or less made it save a nice, fitting drink to wash it all down. No, quite simply, it wasn't even the presumptuous accusation of his departure without the intent to see the tourney's end, nor the unneeded hinting of his earlier defeat; that was to be expected though perhaps not from the Sonners himself.

It was the camera clasps and the hushed whispers that took the previously docile Omi Barsait, and nearly drowned him in sudden mind-splitting rage almost instantaneously.

".. of course not." Was the response in an almost exasperated tone of voice, as the [Serpentine Manipulation Artist] began to slowly turn about face in place with a calculated smile and a clockwise spin. "With all due respect, illustrious tourney patron - I need not a reminder of what I already intend to do, nor what I have failed to achieve yet. I'm the one who set in motion both, after all. Favorable or not.." Last words trailing off in a whisp of air, he was keeping his cool, yet it was still difficult to not feel unnerved at the sight of those almost mindless crowd-goers' eyes. A few disappointed faces pierced through Sonners' small following right into the long-haired semi-finalist's eyes, suggesting all too evidently that they expected Barsait to respond wildly and erratically here in this setting..

..it was enough to tempt him to sate their wishes.

"Now, if you'll pardon me, I've a rather lovely order of food to dine on - it was a pleasure talking to you Mr. Sonners, but I'm sure you have more pressing matters to attend to." Shoulders taunt, both snake-head pauldrons seem to jar forward just the slightest bit. Then all at once, he began turning around again, this time counter-clockwise.

Normally, even with his almost euphoric rage brooding in him, he forced himself to stay calm when it counted. Right now, he had to acknowledge he was in poor spirits; clumsy words could have a profound effect upon him, so to let them so easily would be disastrous. Especially from the only Midus Sonners, after all. It would surely be an incident that couldn't be overlooked, and recalling the absurd staff Barsait had seen reside in this place of competition over the years.. well, it wasn't wise.

Still, he could feel it. A low rumbling in him. His right fist, gauntlet sheathed, shaking just the tiniest bit to the point Omi could feel it. It wanted to strike something.. there was a pompous air threatening to choke Barsait's peaceful interests.

".. Unimportant!!" He reaffirmed his resolve to keep his cool, instead drifting back over the choice of delicious drink, as that very shaking fist found the fellow's chin, only a whiles ago smashed into by that opponent [Link], resting onto it in order to steady it. "Now- now.. nothing alcoholic, I'll be ill as it is. Something.. something soothing. A fine cider perhaps."