[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=F2541F]Atkin Bowman[/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[/center][hr][center][color=F2541F][b]Location:[/b][/color] Palace: Lawn[/center][hr]
	This Richard fellow seemed to have take a liking to Atkin, or at the very least seemed amused by him, which was definitely a step up from his apparent emotions towards everyone else. First he [i]hissed[/i] at Valda's bodyguard (or knight now. Congrats on the promotion?). Who the fuck does that? There was a reason that hissing was something generally done only by snakes and cats. It wasn't threatening when a human literally hissed at another one, it just made them look like a weirdo who didn't know how to interact with other members of their species. Not to mention it seemed like the guy had a temper that made Atkin look like a cold faced stone in comparison. But that wasn't the really concerning part.

	It was how he moved when Myrus suddenly exploded. It was fluid, and Atkin could tell that he was no stranger to that dagger. You occasionally saw people like that around the ramblings, and they were the among the riskiest people to be around. If you got on their bad side, you could end up with a dagger through the heart before you realized it. The lady might be a giant flying lizard with time powers, but Atkin couldn't shake the feeling that Richard was by far the more dangerous of the two. He could only hope that Lyra wouldn't end up accidentally creating a bigger incident than the numerous ones that had occurred in the past four hours or so. Under other circumstances he'd offer some kind of warning to her, but he didn't really have any way of doing so that wouldn't get everyone's knickers in a tighter knot than they already were. Asides, she was a grown woman and supposedly some kind of warrior. She could take care of herself and should have been able to see the same thing he had. 

	Oh speaking of which, what the fuck had Myrus just done? He was still a beginner (well intermediate practitioner if you go by OOC skill names) at this whole Magyk business, but even he could see that what he had done wasn't Magyk. At least, it was no Magyk he had ever seen around the tower or poking around in places he shouldn't be. Maybe it was like what Rowland had said about whatever took Luna not being Magyk. But it was still wild.

	[color=F2541F]"Not to state the obvious or nothin', but the prince should probably be taken to a Physician."[/color] Even taking the weird whatever it was he had just done out of account, the guy was freaking out and bleeding from the nose. Maybe it was just a nose bleed, but given he had just been mind scrambled and his hands were glowing red, there was a pretty good chance that there could have been something actually messed up with him physically in the brain area. Or at the very least, perhaps the Physician would be able to calm him enough that he'd be able to communicate properly.

	The ExtraOrdinary Apprentice turned to make his way back to Arya's side when he started to feel a killer itch on his chest. Quickly, that irritation spread outward. Soon it covered his entire torso, but kept going, crawling down his arms and legs and up his neck. Finally after  it seemed to cover ever centimeter of his skin, it stopped, and the lad was able to pry his hands away from himself. And when he did, he found something peculiar. 

	They were purple. Or more accurately covered entirely in purple velvet. Quickly he pulled up the sleeves of his dress cloak. Sure enough, more velvet.  He pulled his collar forward and looked down into his robes for the final bit of confirmation. From head to toe, Atkin was plastered in the stuff. That funny little quirk about learning Magyk decided to crop up again: when it just decided to manifest without any input from him whatsoever. It had never been this bad; however, considering the rest of the day up to this point, why wouldn't he just become covered in fabric? He couldn't even bring himself to get mad and yell about it. All he could do was march over to his teacher's side and fume.
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	Why did Magyk have to be such a constant source of grief? One moment the woman was ready to spring into combat, the next she was unable to move, along with everyone else in the room. She recognized the charm, it was one that she'd seen employed in the past, but she forgot the exact name. Fast Freeze? Freeze Fast? It was all she could do to recall the exact word choice required to dispel it while all the witches (and Wizard) undid themselves and started going on their merry business. Luna had been Cradlesnatched (her master wouldn't like that), a snake had been summoned and the other Coven Mother boldly proclaimed her sentiment to make sure that the princess wouldn't be making it out if she could have her way. [i]That[/i] definitely wouldn't be allowed.

	The woman managed to unfreeze herself right when a new woman entered the scene. One who was very much not a witch, and in whom she saw a lot of things she recognized. This new entrant who had so effortlessly came into the scene and slain the serpent and her summoned snake was not a person. She was a tool, a weapon built to kill with ruthless efficiency. And she didn't loathe her apparent purpose, but rather seemed to enjoy it. What a fascinating creature. But she couldn't let that distract her from the situation at hand. They evidentally had the same purpose, which made them allies, even if she didn't know it. The woman resumed her fighting stance, club at the ready.

	"Do not attack me," she spoke to Amarantha, doubting that she sounded in any way compelling, "I am here for the same reason as you. Get ready. They will probably target you now that you've taken out one of their top members." Speaking of which, she would likely be a high profile target as well, and it was in her best interest to ready herself as well. She quickly scrolled through her head, recalling various was of countering a Magykal attack aimed in one's own direction. She had no interest in being frozen again, or worse.