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[sup]🍇   [color=C48686][b]LOCATION[/b][/color]   🍇 Colosseum Rafters[/sup]
[sup]🍇   [color=C48686][b]OUTFIT[/b][/color]   🍇 [url=https://media1.popsugar-assets.com/files/thumbor/Ei1jhdIqkp6NcY5E4VEmv10xhVA=/0x0:1080x1080/fit-in/792x990/filters:format_auto():upscale()/2019/11/05/748/n/1922564/6ed2ad9f5dc1a9e68d7870.33387384_.jpg]peak style[/url][/sup]
[sup]🍇   [color=C48686][b]INTERACTING WITH[/b][/color]   🍇 Open interaction![/sup]
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[color=c7d3ab][indent][indent][indent][color=C48686][i][b]“Oh, what lovely festivities! 
Beckon to our carnal desires
Displaying the power of empire!”[/b][/i][/color]

Jeremy Grover swooned over the perfect display of the Camp Jupiter/New Rome demigods and demigoddesses, the perfect display of absolute power, cunning and skill, and the basic instinct to survive round to round. Some fights were glorious displays of brute strength, some were fights of strategy and some, as he observed during Gigi Russo and Ashton White’s fight, simply a case of disinterest.

But above everything else, it was bringing together a community.

How amazing it was to see. How fulfilling it was to bear witness to not only the fighters on the ground floor of the colosseum but the people in the rafters, cheering on each fight. How they would wince whens someone caught a nasty blow to their head, yet cheer not a second later when that same fighter bounced back. He would see triumph and despair as each round revealed a winner and then a loser. He wanted to cry each time someone lost but he also wanted to cheer each time someone won.

And as each round came to an end and one tournament transitioned into the other, he couldn’t help but let out a muffled chuckle at his oldest friend, Eden Ashford, each time her beloved took a hit. Derex Steiner, the beacon of fortitude — and, for eden, the beacon of fornication — always rose to the occasion…in more ways than one. He kept going, going from his fight with Sabine, which was the most sublime, meat-pounding Grover had ever seen. And he should know. He knows a lot about meat pounding.

In this case, it wasn’t the kind that would leave a rear sore but rather, left a Daughter of Pluto on the ground, a loser but also a winner. Then it came for Rex to take on someone who, as Grover had witnessed a few times, someone who was far out of his league. Avery Pierce, that crafty daughter of Minerva, she had shown time after time that she has a brilliant mind. Grover had seen it not in just the tournament but a few times when he’d seen her spar. And what a close match between them it would be, only for Rex to come up short.

And god, what a nasty business his face was. Almost made you not think he wasn’t a smoldering hunk underneath. Almost.

[color=C48686]“Cheers, Ferdinand! You almost had her. Now go to your beloved for some sweet, sweet loving…or healing.”[/color] He raised his chalice, brimming to the rim with a deep purple wine. 

Grover truly loved events like these. He wasn’t a fighter by any means. He’d probably get clobbered worse than Luka. He might even have greater shame than Ashton did in his own fight, on account of giving up before the fight even started (poor Gigi was seething after that). No, he was at last simply a spectator. And why would he be anything else? Grover could provide the refreshments, insightful commentary, and most of all, anyone near him would have the pleasure of his company.

What else could the Prince of Madness desire?[/indent][/indent][/indent][/color]