The aftermath of the mall was a blur. After the last man fell, Luciana was quick to recollect herself. The swarm of metallic shards that had radiated out into the mall swiftly converged on her and into her bag while the mannequin collapsed into a mess of perforated plastic and metal. She scrambled back toward the dressing rooms as she received the order to collect what she wanted and head out. Stepping over the unconscious civilians, she was surprised that none she could see had been killed. It was obvious that these assailants had come for them but she had never known Alchemists to be concerned with minimizing casualties when trying to get their way. Everything about the situation pulled at some string of unease within her but she was unable to articulate exactly what was wrong with the picture. She looked at the man left in the dressing room. His neck was already beginning to bruise where she had held him. He looked at her with anger and a sense of acceptance. She wouldn't be here if things hadn't turned out in A.M.R.O's favor. She picked up a bag from near the room and left.
As she passed by one of the Keeper's, she passed on the living Alchemist's location.
While she had heard stories of the extravagance of Ouroboros, Luciana had never been there personally. Or knew someone who had. It was all through the grapevine and all the rumors paled in comparison to the truth. Reality did have a tendency to trump fiction. Handing off her coin, and gaining entrance was exhilarating. It made her feel like royalty, or like a member of some secret organization. Her heart beat in her chest to the thump of the bass as lights and bodies danced in front of her. It smelled sweet. Of sweat, smoke and intrigue. This place was filled with secrets but in this moment, all she wanted to do was dance. As she went forward with the group, her hips and arms swayed unconsciously to the rhythm. Her plain facade of a face broke into a smile as she swayed. "Gin, tonic, lime,"
she said into a nearby attendant's ear as she ran a hand through his hair. He smelled like vanilla and his hair was so soft. Every facet of this place announced the attention to each and every little detail. As he went, she ran her fingers down her dress. It was soft to the touch and clung to her. It's clear, white
color cut through the dark colors around her like a beacon. She looked around at the others to find that they were already beginning to convene to try and discuss how to go about their business. She scowled for a moment before making her way to the dance floor. If they were to find anything in this place it wouldn't be done standing in a huddle and talking about it. Not only that but they stuck out, or at least this was how she justified herself joining in on the fun as she merged with the crowd and began to dance. "I don't think we'll get much done talking as opposed to looking,"
she messaged to Maeve as she danced, "Aside from the dancefloor, what other ground should be covered?"