[A tall, pale young woman with sharp features, a nose slightly too long in the bridge, long black hair and deep, sullen violet eyes comes to in the middle of the coliseum, wearing dirty clothes and already bruised and bloody. She pushes herself up carefully, not looking afraid as much as confused, and a little annoyed.

Running turns out to be a great option. In fact, it's such a great option that it's the one that the entirely unarmed young woman takes, once she's scrambled up to her feet and taken stock of what is going on around her. Each time one of the clowns gets close, she strafes off and dodges to one side. Did she bump into you? Don't mind the way she lashes out and takes a swipe right for your head before trying to keep on moving.]

[She's holding the pen, but it's not working. Poison has already come to terms with the fact that her abilities as Hierophant - the one who writes the destinies of all Realms - have no use here just as they didn't in the last place she ended up, but...]

I can't... [She mutters, fumbling the pen in her fingers like she's forgotten how to hold it. It drops from her hand and rolls across the table, dropping to the floor with a soft clatter.

Poison feels her face grow hot, her throat tightening with suppressed frustration.]

I hate this place!

[Those who know Poison will know her as a sullen young woman who is quick to anger. A young woman who speaks little of herself and the horrors endured in whatever place she was subjected to before this one. Opinionated (loudly so), sharp-tongued and quick-witted.

They could hardly expect her to be found sitting in the middle of a garden, contentedly making a daisy chain threaded here and there with bluebells. There's a small smile on her face as she works on it, and as you draw close, she offers it up without looking.]

Here, you can have this one. I've finished it.