[center][color=c2b280][h3]Fleo Plector – Phoenix Wing[/h3][/color]
[@Leslie Hall][@Caits][@Lmpkio][@Demous][/center]

A raised eyebrow greeted Isabella's mention of dancing.  Fleo assumed that it was one of the girl's quirks, as many of her guildmates proved to have.  On the subject, the dusty woman didn't really relish the idea of 'competing' with S-class wizards.  Among her short hierarchy of priorities in her life, Fleo maintained 'not getting the snot beat out of her' as high on the list.  Simply put, she just didn't understand the competitive mindset among mages.  Pain, loss, anger, and resentment struck her as a less than acceptable flipside to that seemingly all-important idea of getting stronger.  Why not just enjoy the gift of magic, and the beauty of the world and its people?  Fleo wanted to know, but she did not ask.

Instead, she gave a forgiving shrug and smile combo to the newcomer.  [color=c2b280]”No problem!  We're all friends here.”[/color]  Her attention then turned to Sasha.  As comradely as Fleo was with the Ice make sorceress, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy looking at her.  Sasha seemed to have everything: power, a boyfriend, long and beautiful hair, all her limbs, and height.  Plus, she sported a very strong brand of magic, a whole slew of admirable personality traits, and all in seven years less than Fleo.  Of course, the dusty woman allowed no trace of any negative emotion to show on her face as she said, [color=c2b280]”We're heading off that soon?  Don't let me hold you back!  I bet there will be plenty of breakfast vendors at the Doma Flau.”[/color]  She grew quiet, more or less happy to just stand and listen, but made sure to give a friendly wave to Marlene, Samir, and Sayuri when they arrived.  [color=c2b280]”Hiya!  Are ya excited for day number three, or what?  I know I am!”[/color]

Before long, the entire slew of Phoenix Wingers were off, arriving at the arena in what seemed like moments, just in time to get introduced to the new members of the magic council.  Fleo allowed herself a chuckle to see the new personalities, though she didn't know if this kind of event befitted an organization of such stature.

[center][color=8F9779][h3]Cormorant Sanders – Frenzy Plant Camp[/h3][/color]
[@Oblivion666][@liferusher][@invisible man][@Caits][@hatakekuro][/center]

As luck would have it, a glob of warm oatmeal landed precisely within Sander's outstretched bowl, so perfectly that not a droplet eked over the brim.  Seating himself near enough to the commotion so as to be involved in the general hubbub of the morning's duties, but not so near that he lay within flying oatmeal range, Sanders settled in to eat.  No amount of experience, wisdom, or power prevented a man from having to eat, and while the vast appetite of his youth had shrunken over the years, Sanders did enjoy indulging in gruel every now and again.  Human needs aside, the act also allowed the soldiers to see their General, and to realize that the man to whom they swore their services, despite his frequently cold demeanor, was just a man, after all.  Long ago, Sanders observed that no person, enlisted or otherwise, could grow fond of a megaphone.  While he lacked an overt gift for charisma, he often wished that he could be more of the inspiring, charismatic leader than the brilliant but impersonal tactician that formed the bulk of his reputation.

He looked up from his meal when Magni approached.  Unbidden, his mind raced to pull out the soldier's imaginary folder, leafing through it with fingers of thought for details and history.  [i]Admitted two months ago, he attained C-rank by defeating Vergil Marowit, and did not aspire higher.  He keeps to himself, quiet and grim but respectful and well-disciplined by nature.  Though he is linked to the first attack on camp yesterday, his services were instrumental in resolving the second, though the body of the Hanged Man was not recovered.[/i]  With dark, deep eyes, like murky pools in which all manner of knowledge and power could very well lie, he greeted the anti-mage.  [color=8F9779]”You may.  Tell Corporal Putcher that I gave you permission, and she'll come in with you to keep guard.  I would be surprised if she didn't have smelling-salts to awaken the prisoner.  Please do not do anything that would compromise this Rune; we have high hopes for...'convincing' him to join Frenzy Plant's cause.”[/color]  With nothing further to say, Sanders placed another spoonful of oatmeal inside his mouth, relishing the texture with obvious joy.  Not often did Sanders' 'kindly old man' side appear.  [color=8F9779]”Mm-mm!  Demetri's breakfast always hits the spot.”[/color]

Fifteen minutes later, the time had come.  Zander appeared and sounded the assembly bugle for all Frenzy Plant's members to gather in the central area.  Once the majority had appeared, Sanders raised his hands for attention.  [color=8F9779]”Day three of the games is here, comrades, and it is time to begin moving toward the colosseum.  In light of recent events, however, we're going to be leaving a few people behind.  Thor and Magni, due to your lingering wounds and the level of interest you've been displaying in the games, it seems best if you would remain behind.  Lieutenants Bolganone and Fortinbras, and Corporals Putcher and Whately, and Privates Wuiwomi and Graham, you will stay behind as well.  I regret to deprive you of some fun, but we need our base guarded and some other duties performed.  Thank you for your understanding.  As for the rest of you, let us go!”[/color]

Frenzy Plant set off without delay, its members hustling in orderly lines up the streets of Crocus toward the principle locale of the Grand Magic Games.  After arriving, they found themselves to be just a little early, and took their time getting their seats.  With a surprising speed, the stadium filled up, and the day began with some important new faces.  [color=8F9779]”New council members...?”[/color]  How strange to do something like this, as if the members of the Magic Council were celebrities instead of politicians.  

[center][i][h3] X – Wheel of Fortune[/h3][/i]
[@Burthstone][/center]

A dark and uncomfortable night passed, but if anything could bear unpleasant situations, it was the supernatural Mystic Beasts.  As the hours ticked by, restorative energies seeped through their bodies, repairing wounds and counteracting needs for food and drink.  This invigorating magic power, otherwise known as mana, stemmed from nothing less than the artifacts that governed the Beasts' existence: their Mystic Fate Tarot Cards.  Mollusk-hatted Lockheart, every the pragmatist, stored hers in a secret pocket on the inside of her shirt.  Meanwhile, Lakota opted for a simpler but more effective method: her card lay in the possession of the human to which she was bound, who in her previous life had been her brother.  This man was, in fact, in Crocus, and not far at all from the hotel at which Iron Enigma sheltered, so that the Sun need never be deprived of her power source.

Then, the ruckus started.  Lockheart listened, not interested but not totally bored by the voices and unique noises from upstairs, but when at last her hosts saw fit to turn up, she turned to face them.  With her disguise as a human blown for the members of the Dark Guild at least, Lockheart saw no reason to continue concealing herself, and had unbuttoned her rumpled red shirt.  Beneath it, no human skin could be found; instead she sported the sleek, orange, rubbery flesh of a cephalopod, complete with mottled, brownish, spiny ridges in places.  This act seemed less immodest when it became obvious that Lockheart, in her inhumanity, lacked certain anatomical features that characterized the torsos of human women.  Reclining in her chair with one leg crossed, she gave the newcomers a disdainful look, but listened to what they had to say.  Afterward, she replied, “We wanted to get at the guild master.  It's...personal.  You may have noticed, but we're not quite normal.”  She indicated herself and Lakota ruefully, who looked on with a brutish glare.  “Gregory Vale has done something unforgivable, and we want to meet him.  I'm sure your master is a busy one, but it doesn't have to be today.  In fact, in just a few days, a friend of mine will deliver evidence that will prove Vale's guilt beyond the shadow of a doubt.  Then, would be the best time to meet.”

[center][color=d8bfd8][h3]Nero the Genie – Riverside Greenbelt[/h3][/color]
[@liferusher][@invisible man][/center]

As charming as the pleasant view and far more pleasant thoughts were, Nero supposed after a total of fifteen minutes spent relaxing by the riverside that he ought to go and start doing things for the day.  After making sure that his every position returned to his pouch, the Genie set off, walking until he emerged from the greenbelt and strolled in the direction of the Dragon Fang hotel.  On the way, he stopped by the spot he remember Ayame to be saying, and prodded her awake.  [color=d8bfd8]"Rise and shine, kiddo!  We're off to meet Eve for another day of fun.  Perhaps we'll even visit the arena.  Now that Eve's not a depressed wallflower anymore, she might even enjoy it.  C'mon!"[/color]

Minutes later, the journey resumed.  On the way, as he crossed the cobblestone streets, grinned at the normal people, and appreciated the City of Flowers' decor, he noted how glad he was that his little companion ultimately rejected the wish she came up with.  Change suited some people, but most definitely did not suit others, and despite the fundamental goodness of Ayame's intentions, her methodology placed her in that second category.  While thinking about his charge, Nero pondered Ayame's relationship to Eve.  Of course, they got along well enough, much like how Ayame got along with Nero, but the Genie could swear some other emotional undertone characterized the pair.  Then again, he could swear that he always granted wishes with the most benign of intentions; it did not make him right.

The Dragon Fang hotel came into view, prompting a relieved sigh from Nero, for whom yesterday's experience of getting lost still ringed with embarrassment.  Hoping rather desperately that he might avoid the displeasure of seeing Time Lord, Michael, or Gabriel again, the Genie knocked on the door.