There is none willing to divulge how blood carries a particular scent — copper and rust, clinging to tongue and throat, nauseating with demand to be acknowledged. He knows it now, the taste it bears alongside, yet fresh always seemed senses woken to it. Untouched rounded walls, a high ring into which he peered without expression, still the remnants remained. Dried each smear and streak, rust it seemed though only dust may he identify upon each breath.

When had last the pit been occupied, rung with a chorus, agony and rage woven into explosive notes that underlined the goading cheer, a show the destruction of another. Too long that which had transpired, lost when last had show been put on for all to witness. His mind supplied lacklustre answer with little fanfare, lips moving, parting about breath bypassing clenched teeth in a heated rush. A time of transition dictated a period of stagnation would be present, the chance for that change to settle and be accepted, yet high ran tension.

Along edge did perch the indigo beast, over lip paw hanging. Mind drew tentative memories, the draconic monsters permitted freedom of gifted feast, the settled debates only permitted resolution for skin had been scoured by claws aching for blood, entertainment all even as purpose was derived. Briefly thought arose, shoulder looked over as assessed the surrounding floor. Too long had Dylluan allowed himself to relax, proven capable, yet none may dispute he was tired and growing long in the tooth, a thought rather heartily contested. Possibly a show may dissuade such idiotic lines of thought, for now he merely lounged, awaited another who may guess at his desire and grow eager for it as well.

Dormant lay desire against still tongue, few those whose proximity drew near his own, disregarded within moments his own voice may not breach, until particular contender allowed wanton wish a fleeting life.

A show.

Metal briefly caught, pressed to skin beneath coarse strands, ilicted a hum as attention turned. Time gathered and passed, suspended those seconds that trickled by without response. Evident the manner skepticism drew a furrow across brow, shaded those dark depths that trailed along other, sought something that may not be found, displeasure withheld as teeth ground into tongue tip. The boy that pretended to act as king and the old fool too stupid to accept his immenint retirement. A pair they made, none the wiser for such off handily spoken offer.

Slow the twist, dark lips laden with scars peeling away from teeth discoloured and broken. All that may be needed that grin which bore a spark of hunger, back flicked ears as upwards was his body pushed, braced against leg that trembled ever slightly. Allow them to believe such a weakness, grown lame from loss staged years past, reconquered all and no lesser he for such. "It would be my pleasure." Honorific lay against his tongue, sought freedom he would not allow, swallowed as stretched out and shaken each limb in turn.

A hush befell the few present beyond them, ignored each as Dylluan offer Brym a final fleeting glance, pondered once more the meaning for his offer. Living as any other, touched with hunger that may not be quenched by food, different this. A show he had called it, sign of strength for those who rose their petulant voices in disagreement to his appointment, or maybe more basic it. Cared not what caused it and simple the grace of acceptance, away the tiger turning before all left the ground.

Fall familiar, yet seemed lengthened, quiet the groan that fell from drawn back lips. It seemed his age had begun to show, though far was Dylluan from an age he may be deemed a true elder, the hardship of their chosen life visited upon muscle and sinew alike. Up chin tilted and his voice gained an echo as he circled the pit, jeering call ringing with a note that made it clear he bore no malice, good his humour as excitement shaped his words. "We would not wish to keep anyone waiting, might get it in their heads your afraid of a bag of bones such as me."