There was a scent in the air. It was a scent that Braz could not place but he was sure he had smelt it before. It was sweet, plesant but unfamiliar.
But then so much of this room left him feeling like that, like an answer jhust out of reach, like the obivous was obsucred, like everything was known so there was no need to ask.
She sat there proud and strong, the form in the shadows was difficult to see but power shines it own brightness. This was not a time for silly games - although that is what she wishes to play.
Braz fumbled his knowledge of the games, the truth obscured by his memory of legend and friendly victory but fellowship came through for him and thanks to the sacrifice of others he was was given time to ask a question for selfish reasosn - of curses, oaths and Typhon.
Even now, as he stands looking across the room it is hard to remember what happened. There was the clash of blade, there was screaming and death. Mother bellis. The harpies - so many harpies. and mouths. WHy does he remeber mouths, teeth, mouths.
In the moments following this Braz was not sure what happened but an oppertunioty past. Taken by his unthinking words. Nobody was harmed but something was taken.
And as if like that they where outside again. but one stronger and Hippofilius has eyes that have turned from steel to the morning sky.