[Kitsumi]

The cheers of the crowd, despite their loud volume, were muffled by the pounding in Rose's head. She was a good fighter, it was true, but she wasn't invincible. Her opponent was a large male, and the hits he had landed on her head were beginning to make her feel dizzy.

Somewhere in the crowd, her sister Oceana was passing out water bottles and trail mix to keep the crowd hydrated and energized. It was the kind of thing that Oceana did, making sure that people were well taken care of and healthy. She may not have approved of Rose's fighting, but she would make sure to be there every time Rose fought, under one pretense or another. Rose suspected that secretly, Oceana was cheering her on.

Landing a hit on the jaw of her opponent, Rose earned herself a punch to the stomach. It hurt, but she was able to suck it up. A few more good hits, and this guy would be out. Rose could sense his energy draining, along with his hope.

Her energy returning at the promise of a win, Rose attacked again, this time with more force.

{I...had no idea what to name it xD So I just went with 'A New Perspective' since he'll be pretty much giving her a new perspective on fighting and such}

[MillietheWarrior]

It had been ages since he’d ventured out into a public setting. He couldn’t quite remember the last time he’d done so without a disguise, or a hood to cover his face. But now he walked among the humans, unafraid and undaunted by the roaring of their cries or the pounding of their cheers. He stood just a little ways off from the crowd, red eyes observing them as they cheered on their perspective competitor. Truth be told, he was keeping his eyes as far from the arena as he could. Fighting sickened him; it made his stomach roll and his heart ache, and he didn’t dare raise his gaze farther than the edge of the raised platform. Laufey kept his arms folded tightly across his broad chest; he was glad in normal, traditional human clothes. A business suit in black, a tie in blood red, and dark, spade shape marks just over his eyes. It was something he couldn’t get rid of, no matter what form he took.

He supposed it was a mark that showed who he truly was; in the ancient days, long ago, it had often been enough to betray him, but there were many people ignorant of who he was, and so he traveled the countryside unmolested and free to go where he wished. Now it was more difficult; people were a lot more accepting of oddities, but he found that it was getting harder and harder to blend into modern society. His old age cultures and mannerisms made him stand out even more starkly than the markings over his eyes, or the fact that he had long, chocolate brown hair tied in a neat, prim ponytail at the back of his neck. Whenever he spoke, people would often give him strange looks, wonder why he said ‘my lord,’ and ‘my lady’ when addressing them, or why he bowed to women and courteously stood whenever a woman would leave or enter a room. He was strange, he knew that, and he was working hard on becoming more modern, but he found it ridiculously difficult to ‘stoop’ to their level, as he called it.

A particularly loud roar from the crowd made him flinch, and in a moment of weakness, his gaze darted up to the fighters who danced around one another in a whirlwind waltz of fists. He felt his heart stutter in his chest, his eyes widening as he took a subconscious step back, into the shadows of a parlor. Laufey lifted a hand to his forehead, his breathing harsh and ragged as memories and visions flashed across his eyes, blood and death and destruction, and his hand crafting all of it, commanding legions, armies, men to kill each other and the women and the children. He gripped his chest, fingers clenching in the fabric of his expensively tailored suit and he closed his eyes and leaned over, gasping for breath and forcing himself to remain calm. That was the old me. I’m not like that anymore. I’m not…a pawn. I am not a tool of war. That was the old me… he chanted over and over in his head, desperately trying to calm his aching, racing heart.

((And now here's his human form as well. Click.))

[Kitsumi]

It started as a small buzz of a feeling like that of an electric shock, pulsating in her fingers. Rose ignored it at first; she had probably simply hit the man with the wrong part of her hand. But as she continued to fight him, finally defeating him and winning the match, the feeling continued and spread up her arm, across her chest, down the other arm, throughout her body. It was everywhere, demanding her attention and causing her to stagger out of the arena without a word to her manager, sister, or fans.

A deity was here, she could feel it - a god or goddess, roaming the streets. Actually, it didn't necessarily have to be a god or a goddess, Rose realized as she scanned the crowd, and then the streets, looking for the source of the feeling. Whoever it was could just as easily be a demigod, like her and her sister Oceana. While the number of gods and goddesses wandering Evelon were far more vast than most people knew, the number of their demigod offspring was even greater. Now, if only Rose could find out who it was that was setting off her odd detection of deity blood, she would be able to find out whether it was a full god or a demi-god. Whoever it was, she was eager to talk to them - other than her parents and sister, Rose had never met another demigod, and her grandmother was the only god she knew.

There! Rose's eyes settled on a man with two perfectly shaped spade markings over his eyes. He was dressed in a suit, and his tie was a red not very unlike the color of blood, which Rose saw often when she allowed herself to go a bit tougher on her opponents. He seemed...distressed, for lack of a better word. Rose wasn't sure exactly what was happening, but he definitely was not alright.

She began taking slow steps towards him, but her pace went from a slow walk to a jog, and then she was running towards him quickly. Stopping beside him, she placed a hand on his shoulder, eyes studying him with a mixture of curiosity and concern. "Excuse me, sir? Are you alright?"

{2}

[MillietheWarrior]

He’d managed to at least get his breathing under control by the time he noticed the [presence approaching him. It did not feel mortal, but there was a decidedly ‘human’ tinge to it that had him curious. He himself was a demigod, so perhaps this was one of his kind? What were the chances of finding another like him in this place? Pretty good, apparently. His heart was still racing but he’d managed to gain control over it, but the fire in his veins was still making his head spin. When he lifted his ruby eyes up to meet the gaze of the person who had spoken, he was vaguely surprised to see the fighter from the ring. Subconsciously, he had to stop his mind from racing off with him again, and began his mental mantra all over. When he spoke, his voice was slightly strained and hoarse.

“I’m fine,” he said at last, and didn’t seem willing to give anything away regarding what he was. He was aware of her ‘oddity’ but he didn’t know how aware she was of his, despite the markings on his face. It was, after all, not an odd sight to see someone with weird markings or tattoos around these parts. It might be odd to see it coupled with a business suit, but that was beside the point. “Just a bit of a headache.” His gaze flickered meaningfully to her hands, and then away just as quickly. “You were the…fighter in the ring, weren’t you?” He couldn’t tell her ‘don’t you know fighting is wrong? Especially for profit?’ She was young. She didn’t know the things he knew. She hadn’t been alive for the centuries that he had. She’d never held a blade, bloodied with the innards of her enemy, or stood on ground soiled with the blood of the slain. She didn’t know what it was like to see death.

He cleared his throat, straightened up and making a point to straighten his tie. There was a faint sheen of sweat on his brow, and he brushed the length of his ponytail back over his shoulder, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand under the pretense of pushing his hair out of his eyes. “You should…get back to what you were doing, miss. Don’t worry about me.” He waved his hand flippantly, adopting an air of casual grace and schooling his expression into one of neutrality. Laufey pushed away from the wall, turning his back to the woman. “Have a good day, miss. Enjoy your…fight…Don‘t get hurt.”

[Kitsumi]

It became obvious as Rose drew near that the man was a demigod. She wasn't sure how she could sense whether someone was a full god or only a demigod, but she simply knew. However, even though she knew that practically anything was possible when dealing with a demigod, she hadn't expected the bright red eyes. She found her attention immediately drawn to them. Red was one of her favorite colors, and the hue of red in his eyes...it was beautiful to her. Of course, as soon as she realized she was staring, she blushed - something she didn't do often - and forced herself to focus her gaze on his forehead instead.

Stubborn as always, his response, obviously a lie, didn't appease her. Hands settling into a familiar spot on her hips, she gave him her most piercing gaze. "You certainly don't seem fine. And if you truly are simply suffering from a headache, I doubt that a bit of one could cause the distress I saw." At his question, she stood up a bit straighter, and held her head high with a proud sparkle in her eye. "Yes, I was. They call me Bloody Rose...many people think I'm the best woman fighter there is. Some people think I'm even a match for some of the best men out there." Realizing that she really shouldn't be bragging, she quickly added, "Of course, that's just what they think. I'm sure there are plenty of people who could beat me. They just haven't challenged me yet, I guess." That part, at least, was true. Rose had never lost a fight - never. It was partially due to the fact that she was a demigod, but she liked to think that even if she were a mortal she would be good at fighting.

As he fixed his hair, Rose took a moment to notice how long it was. Long hair on men wasn't exactly rare, but hair of his length was, at least according to the men that she had seen around. It was true that all of the male fighters she knew had short hair, to keep it from giving them a disadvantage in the arena. But she had plenty of friends that weren't fighters, and they still chose to keep their hair at a relatively short length most of the time.

When it became obvious that he was attempting to leave, Rose couldn't contain herself. "Wait, please!" She ran to stand in front of him, barring his way past her. "Listen," she lowered her voice. "I've never met another demigod before other than my sister and parents, and I can tell that you're a helluva lot older than us, which means you're probably wiser. That was my last fight of the day, and I really have nothing better to do." Her eyes pleading, she allowed her pride to slip only momentarily in order attempt to convince him to stay. "Please...don't leave just yet."

[MillietheWarrior]

“Yes, well, what I am and what I seem are two entirely different things.” He came from a different time and place, where men were courteous to women, and they didn’t talk on snippy tones when addressing them. But right now, he really just wanted to get away from here. From her. From the fighting and the cheering and the cajoling. It was all starting to run together, and it was making his head spin as memories flashed behind his eyes and brought back nauseating sights and smells that didn’t belong in a quaint marketplace square. He fixed her with a stare out of the corner of his eye, pushing his bangs back with slender, elegant fingers. “Blood Rose?” he repeated, and the distaste was clear in his voice.

“What do you know about fighting, child? You think it’s just a game where you throw a few punches at your opponent and once you knock him out, it’s all over and everyone cheers. You don’t know the first thing about fighting. The blood, the screams, the sights and scents of the battlefield. You are an unimpressive little girl, trying to be an impressive little god. And if you were smart, you would leave me before you get in over your head. I haven’t the time to deal with frivolous little children who fancy themselves a fighter.” He straightened his back, fingers running along the seams of his coat and tugging it forward, aligning it perfectly with his shoulders and pulling out any rumples he might have received from leaning against the wall.

“Older doesn’t equate wiser, little one. My lessons have been harsh, my teachers harsher, and it has taken many centuries for me to learn what I know now. If I am just a distraction to pass your free time away, then it would be best if you took your lave. I am not the kind of creature you, in all your infinite laugh-ability, should get yourself tangled up with. Our kind are few and far between, and there are reasons for that, which I am sure you are ignorant of. But I haven’t the time to baby-sit a child. So go back to your ‘fight’ and continue on in that delusional world you call reality.” He cleared his throat, straightened his it and shoving his hands nonchalantly into his pockets. “Farewell, child.”