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[borderlines]

[ Wandering through the plane today is a young woman with a blank look to her face. She doesn't seem impressed or bothered by anything, in fact she just appears rather lethargic to the whole situation. The red jacket doesn't match the light blue yukata, but she doesn't seem to be letting go of that jacket anytime soon. Her hands are balled into fists and rest in the pockets as the only physical sign that none of this was okay to her.

If she happens upon anyone, she'll walk up towards them, but won't bother greeting them vocally.

Otherwise she can be found lingering around the coliseum, staring intently down at some of the dried patches of blood. She doesn't talk to herself or speak out loud in any way, not unless she's approached. What a bum. ]

Comments

[spiritofadventure]

[But hey here's someone! Castor is practicing hand strikes against a wooden dummy over at one end of the arena. She notices the...audience when she pauses to shake out a cramp.]

Oh, hello! I didn't see you there!

[borderlines]

I didn't call out to you, so how would you have seen me?

[ Seems an obvious enough answer as she frowns a bit, unsure as to why she would bring it up in the first place. ]

Are you hurt?

[spiritofadventure]

I...

[She's got you there, Castor.]

A place this big and echoey, I can usually hear people.

[Nice save.]

Eh? Oh no, just cramping up a little. Once I get some blood back in my hands it'll be fine.

[borderlines]

[ Makes sense. She's smart, but not clever enough to catch onto these things. ]

Do people make it a habit to practice on these things? It's archaic.

[spiritofadventure]

Archaic? It's not fancy, but that doesn't mean it's not doing it's job!