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[@Sickle-cell][@Duoya][@Lasrever]
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Mystral had one leg over the other. Her hands were over the titanium umbrella that served now as a cane, and her back was straight. She would definitely stand out just by her posture, if her features hadn't already. Nonetheless, she sat with the regular crowd of visitors: a low profile.

Besides, she hadn't made a name here; people might not even know who she was. Databases might not say the same thing, but she hadn't done anything recently to spike some sort of infamy. Not that she could do anything about it anyway. Upon entering, she could feel her 'grip' loosen. Her metal umbrella seemed heavier, and her hands trembled slightly. Mystral rubbed her palms silently. Nothing. Whatever it is that's in this place made her weaker, she would assume-- yet it was much greater than that.

She shoved the thought at the back of her head and went back into the circus. The woman looked around from the octagon and then to the conspicuous stage-like furniture above the common rabble.

[color=f49ac2](The fancy chairs at the top.. I wonder what I need to do to get there?)[/color] Always the grandiose achiever, she was. [color=f49ac2](Would you be there perhaps, my darling~?)[/color]