The match was rather unfulfilling today. Just another fuck though on paper it had seemed as if this was going to be something he had to work at by the woman had a pour guard and in the end she was yearning for his touch.

Ah well, sex was rarely exciting these days given that he was half incubi he got it on a fairly regular basis. He had been excited about it. With Iria it was fun though, the slow braking of the former agent. He still had yet to replace Esper though. Iria would do quiet well if she were not already owned and not so loathing of magic where he could have taught her a few things.

The rest of the day he would have to kill as tomorrow he took another ship back to the campus, his arena tours over for a few weeks he was intending to spend some time working on technique and skill, maybe taking a break for a week if all went well with his training.

Right now he was in a rather sleazy space port in a dive he had been in a few times. He sat with his back to a corner, his eyes customarily swing back and forth as he drew in the plethora of alien beings. He recognized a few of them though most he didn't.

Of course he noticed the shapely, multi armed woman, how could he not? He entertained the notion of what she might do with so many limbs in the sack though his eyes were torn from her to set upon the two aliens that had been arguing about something. Suffice it to say that things degenerated into blows that spread throughout the bar.

One insectoid creature swung on the woman after she was pushed into it causing it to spill it's drink all over herself. Now he was chivalrous sometimes when it suited his purposes but today he watched on as fighting broke out near him thus far he watched on, interested in how the woman handled herself until he found himself being drawn up into the ensuing melee as a body was thrown across his table, his drink spilling in the process, not that he ever had to obtain a reason to get into a good fight.

There weren't many places that Captain Weaver thought of as "home", when she'd been growing up it was drilled into her that staying alive meant staying mobile and alert. Lessons that had only proven more true once she'd taken up the role of pirate. Now her "home" was the cabin of a star ship, armored, cloaked, and gliding silently through the black vastness of the 'Verse at speeds far beyond light. But, there had been a time between the desperate refugee of the past, and the daring self-styled pirate Captain. A young Ahria D'val, half feral and ignorant in the ways of the 'Verse had emerged from the trading vessel she'd stowed away upon and strode upon the dingy space port called Kaleth. Too young for the flesh trade, at least in reputable circles, she'd been fortunate enough to find a soul with a scrap of compassion willing to put her up until she got on her feet. It hadn't been free exactly . . . but then, the notion of working for a living had been completely alien to her at the time. As she raised her glass with a toothy grin, she supposed it still was to an extent.

She cut an odd figure in the low yellow light, surrounded by a decidedly blue-collar clientele. She as sitting on the edge of one of the tables, her lower arms bracing her back as she dangled her bare feet over the the floor, a mug held in one hand sloshing slightly over the edge as she shared a half-shouted story with the man behind the bar who favored her with a patriarchal smile. She looked practically spectral, skin white as ivory clothed in loose layers of sheer snow-white fabric which held the impression of the body underneath open to view as a dark shadow within their folds, finely wrought silver wrist bracelets and anklets capped each sleeve, each with a series of tiny crystalline chimes hanging from them than sparkled and rang with each gesture. Her hair was dark and lustrous, pulled into a series of long, thin braids which were studded with light refracting crystals of the same material as the chimes, strangely luminescent strands of hair glimmering through the facets to provide her a halo of faintly violet light.

There was a faint purple blush on her cheeks as she let the raucous energy of the post Arena crowd flow thorugh her. She didn't even notice at first when one of the voices went from boasting about events he'd only been an observer to to an angry roar. Apparently someone was having a little too much fun with the fact that he'd "trained" the man's favorite servant, and was just tipsy enough to start spelling out the details of his instruction. The dull thud of a meaty fist into a cheek made her blink in recognition however. The table she was perched on rocked precariously as the man staggered back into it, and reflexively she pushed herself into a short jump off of the table to avoid falling flatly on her ass. The motion, however, was not as calculated as it would have been where she was sobre, and she and an insectine patron both wound up wearing their drinks.

Weaver's eyes narrowed slightly as she surveyed the damage to her wardrobe, a deep crimson streak against her previously stark white appearance, the dampness settling into the light cloth causing it to cling familiarly to her chest and soak her as well, the sudden chill causing her nipples to push back against the fabric. She'd barely had time to bemoan the ruining of her clothing she saw a chitinous fist swinging for her. There was a ring like a hundred tiny bells as she smoothly leaned out of the strike, one empty hand flashing forward to grab hold of the man's sensitive antennae and bring him up short.

"Now now, that's hardly the way to treat a lady." she said with a smile, the strange multipronged star pupils of her eyes rotating slightly as she locked gaze with his compound eyes. A second passed and the insect began to reach for her hand, his multifaceted vision saving him from the subtle machinations of an Elianite's spell binding gaze. She responded with a swift straight punch to the face from the other side, blinking as she found herself holding the antenna as their owner rolled over backwards across the floorboards.

"Those'll probably grow back." she tittered slightly, another hand making a quick circular motion to knock another patron's blow off course and catch his wrist before twisting his arm behind him and kicking him free to stagger into the middle of the brewing brawl. She up ended her glass to finish what was left before smashing it against the face of a third uninvolved patron hard enough for the vessel to break free of it's handle, a manic grin splitting her lips as she allowed herself to be swept up in the swell of violence echoing in the halls.

Ah. Friday night, same as it ever was.

Gersham got to his feet as a melee erupt all about him now. He flicked the trio of burgundy eyes to the table top where his drink had been a mere moment before. Now it was gone and while it was not his fault entirely Gersham brought a foot up to the man's face that had been responsible for knocking it aside.

There was a satisfying crunching sound accompanying the crimson blood that streamed from those nostrils though he shook his head. It was a flesh wound really, a broken nose … but the man slumped into unconsciousness.

Gersham had the experience now with fisticuffs, mostly in brawls with Iria so battling unarmed was something he had been use to. Next was the man that tossed the first to begin with. A large broad creature with grayish skin, red eyes and yellow tusks.

When he hit this being it was as if his fist was sinking into a solid wall of fat and the man swatted him away with a back hand.

He must have thought that that was going to be it as he turned to s square off against another patron Gersham showed him that they had not been finished with a leap upward, black wings materializing for a moment to give him additional elevation as a flap drew him forward, a foot smashing into the back of the man's head, momentum causing him to crash against the floor.

When his feet touched back down on the floor of the bar he glanced in the direction of the woman who cut quite the figure now, her nipples displayed as they pressed against the fabric of her clothes, clothes he wouldn't mind seeing tossed in a heap on the floor of some hotel room.

She could handle herself it seemed so she was no stranger to this sort of dance though his third eye displayed truths to him he could tell something was not quiet right … she was impaired, drunk? Tipsy? He was uncertain as he approached casually unsure if he was going to challenge her or not.

That was when a human pulled a knife coming up behind her, Gersham generating the sphere of black miasma upon his palm with practiced ease.

He hurled it, the sphere of darkness streaking past the woman exploding on impact with the man in a burst of numbing cold that took care of the man enough …

He was still conscious though, on his knees with the knife clattered upon the floor. With so many patrons though it was hard to keep an eye on all of them and that is when he was struck from behind by a hairy creature.

One of the subtle benefits of her physiology was that, already designed to coordinate a half-dozen arms, Captain Weaver's mind readily tracked a great deal of independently moving actions. She moved in quick, tight spins as she swept her way this way and that through the brawl, seeming to be half fighting and half fighting and she slide her way between the backs of two fighters and brushed her finger tips along their shoulders. A quick jerk of her hands down drew the pair up into the air where they slammed their heads against a support beam, dropping limply to the ground on top of other patrons who'd been too eager in investigating the strange occurrence. She suddenly reversed her momentum, hopping back as someone tossed another body through the air, landing on one of the tables and belly sliding off the other end with a clatter and crash of plates, the chimes ringing discordantly under the bellows and shouts that roared on around her.

There was a flicker of black wings up towards the roof of the bar before a heavy thud rattled the floor boards under her feet. A bar brawl between monsters was a very different affair than it might have been back on Earth, creatures naturally using the supernatural effects that were their birthrights with the same graceless brutality that a human might wield the jagged edge of a broken beer bottle. For her part, Weaver ducked low as a strand of sticky goo was sprayed at her from the pressurized spinnerets of a particularly hair bar patron, who was quickly jerked off of his feet with the rocky gentleman he'd actually managed to hit grabbed hold of the line and jerked him into the fight. As the Captain hopped onto the seat of a chair and braced one foot against the back, she could see one patron have submerged in the gooily pliant form of another, and somewhere someone belched a gout of flame that caused the barkeep to shout a warning.

She was briefly distracted when she noticed a lone robed man in the corner, ignored by the rest of the patrons, casually sipping at his cup like the eye of their chaotic maelstrom. There was a sound behind her like permafront crackling, and she blinked, cursing herself for her momentary lapse of concentration. Teetering on his knees was a lone Earthanoid, smoldering with black energy as he shivered uncontrollably, a nine inch blade barely inches from where it had tumbled from his fingers. A gentle plucking motion with two fingers saw a gossamer thread pick the blade up from the ground where it landed in her outstretched hand.

"Poor little hyoo-mon." she chastised as she dangled the disdainfully from two fingers. She'd been debating what to do with the man (an Earthanoid Male! Quite the rarity, she imagined she could make a tidy sum from him if she were so inclined) , but her mind latched onto a different question. If not her, who had felled the man who'd sought to injure her so grievously? She traced the faint thread of the man's injury back to his injurer. Wisps of ebony shadow still clung to his arm as he smirked like he was about to say something, but then was struck from behind.

And then, a blade appeared sticking from the hair mass's chest, caught between two ribs. Weaver blinked slightly in surprise, she hadn't really resolved to do that before it had happened, but rather, acted by instinct. There was a roar of pain and rage as the hair man tore the knife from his chest, attacking the creatures nearest at hand. Fortunately, that was not Gersham. Weaver stooped over and offered him a hand.

"Well well! If it isn't the Arena's "Black Prince"?" she said with a faint smile, "Slumming it a little, aren't you?"

All hell broke out here. Aliens and monsters keeping up with the cahotic frenzy that had engulfed them in the moment. Many had been spectators at the recent arena matches though that didn't earn him any points here for rather than respect there had been more than a few patrons that wanted to prove that hey were tougher.

It was the fact that he so often battled against tougher opponents. Of course as tough as they were they were still human and he had rarely had to use his full gamut of abilies against them. His third eye that allowed him to monitor intentions was of limited use in these conditions for being struck from behind or having to trace the intentions of dozens of people had been harder then focusing on just one person.

Flame, knives, webs … soon someone was going to escalate matters further by pulling a blaster when faced with something that they could not deal with. He had to be careful here not that he was worried though he was still vulnerable if blind sided, something he did not have to worry about in the arena though he dealt with it now as an unexpected blow dumped him onto the sticky bar room floor. He turned to face his attacker though no one pressed in.

There was a roar as other patrons found one another though the momentary distraction in analyzing the threat had brought the woman that he had been watching closer to his side. He had to admit that she looked better up close, especially given that the drink that had spilled on her caused her nipples to jut out.

But she knew of him, a fan? Perhaps, though it was just as likely that she just caught the recent match. He looked up the expanse of long legs, up further so that his features drew in that smile.

“This place got good reviews, though I fail to see why.” He gestured casually at the scene swirling around them as he sat up. “But you have me at a disadvantage, you are?”

"What, you don't care for the ambiance?" she said, flashing pearly white teeth as she gestured widely with two arms. There was a sound of wood splintering as someone broke a chair across the broad back of some kind of scaled alligator-man, and a pair of whooping battle cries as a duo of leather clad amazons dog piled onto some kind of four armed furry white creature with beady black eyes and three inch long fangs. Weaver paused to pivot her hips and throw a sweeping kick backwards until it doubled over a noseless blue-skinned man with a top-knot, turning around to favor the man with a roundhouse punch that staggered him back before she glanced over her shoulder back at Gersham.

"It's the cleanest bar in the port, though the best stuff isn't on the menus." she said with a bit of a shrug. "You ever come back, tell Kiltor that Ahria vouches for you, he'll make a recommendation."

She wasn't a fan of Gersham's, exactly. In point of fact, he'd cost her more than bit of money in the last few months, but then Captain Weaver had a certain tendency to put her money down on long-shots and the bookies favored the strangely pale hybrid more and more in recent months. Still, she'd seen him fight enough times to know that a blow like he'd taken a moment ago wouldn't daze him long.

"It's not much like the Arena, is it?" she laughed a bit, making a few motions at the crowd, though it was difficult to make out what she was doing in the chaos. A man tripped over seemingly nothing, and was trampled by one of the larger patrons. A bottle careened off course. A fist swung wide to catch someone who was studiously staring into their drink and moving to relocate further from the brawl. If she was responsible for any of it, she'd never tell, simply egging on the fight now that she had a bit of elbow room.

The, with a quick snap of her wrist, a long gray shape suddenly flew through the air and landed in two of her outstretched hands, a snub-nosed blaster carbine with a shot spread "choke" hummed gently with contained elemental forces and magnetic containment fields. The Captain tsked slightly, propping the gun up against her shoulder.

"Mmn, looks like things are about to turn serious . . . " she offered him one of his lower hands as he sat up on the floor, "You want to blow this joint? See if maybe the city's got something better on offer?" she asked. Someone had grabbed hold of one of the other brawlers and was swinging him in wide circles by the ankles as the other patrons backed off to give him room to swing. Weaver smirked slightly . . . she did not want to be there when he let that guy go sailing through the air, he was likely to go clean through one of the exterior walls.

“Oh, I'm use to a bit more organization to my chaos.” He grinned. “So use to one on one affairs now.” He had a name that she soon supplied him with along with the name of the bar keep, which was of less interest to him than hers though through it all she continued to fight.

She had been right in that the blow that had downed him had not been severe enough to keep him down for too long. He had broken bones in the arena and had fought through it.

He fought in the nearby arena on occasion so perhaps he would be back, that all depended he mused. A primate in a green tunic approached, a chair above his head that he intended to crash over the back of a patron though Gersham added to the chaos consuming him, then the intended target with that black miasma that he summoned to his hand.

That indeed had been one of the good things about his Shadow magic. He could use it from a prone position without any difficulties.

“It clearly isn't like the arena. There's far more to track for instance though no one as fragile as humans so it is more of a challenge.” Still he wasn't sure if he had liked it or not. If it were one on one with an alien he probably wouldn't have minded it so much.

But she made his offer to him and while in the arena he would have already been on his feet he had deliberately remained prone for a moment longer before pulling himself up to his feet and that was for this very reason. He grinned at the offer. “Yes, let us find something more suitable.”

He took the offered hand and pulled himself to his feet. With that delightful contact of skin against skin he delivered a mild version of his aphrodisiac, just a trace amount from what he could have had dosed her with, certainly nothing more than necessary to get her mildly aroused or at least thinking about sex. Oddly he wished to speak with her a bit more and he was certain that their would be other opportunities in which he could introduce more of that drug into her system.

"Oh, it's been a long while since one man's been able to really hold my attention." she winked with a smirk, though she turned the rifle in her hand an clubbed another patron with the stock roughly, dropping him to his knees. She flicked the blaster to it's stun setting and pointed it down at the man, but then thought better of it as she felt his hand in hers. Mmn . . . there it was, a light tingle on her nerves that mixed pleasantly with the warmth of the drink in her body. Of course Weaver was aware of the property of his touch, she may have lost money but she'd still watched his matches after all, that had been the intention behind her offering a hand up to begin with. After seeing it in action, she was curious.

"Ha ha, it is tougher to manage, for sure! But that's part of the appeal, no adoring crowds, maybe, but you never know what you're going to come against moment to moment." she gave a slightly giddy laugh, high and ringing like the chimes that rang with her movement as she stepped to the side to haul him up, "For example, an accomplished gladiator! Ah, the end results are the same though, the victors dragging the losers they fancy most off somewhere private for a bit of the slap and tickle." She passed it off as routine, but unlike a Gladiatrix there was nothing compelling the winner to actually let his prize go after the fact. Friends of hers had vanished for weeks at a time after a good brawl, but Monsters made poor pets. Ultimately they'd show up again, looking like they'd just had a particularly active vacation, all smiles and stories before the next flimsy pretext for a punch up started the whole cycle again.

After a fashion, she was simply cutting out the middle man. She did fancy Gersham a bit, it had been a long time since she'd seen one of her own kind so his creamy pale skin brought a twinkle to her eye. He was strong, for sure, but unlike most of the louts crashing about he wasn't a great mass of lumpy flesh either. Instead, he was slender and elegant, and if his hand was anything to judge by, soft and warm to the touch like velvet around a core of steely muscle. And then, of course, there was the intrigue promised by his more esoteric abilities. Weaver might have been more cautious, if she was aware that he was immune to the entrapping illusions of her gaze, which would be casually pierced by his third eye. As it was, however, she was enjoying her little brush with celebrity.

She stalked smoothly through the chaos once he was up on his feet, a hand to the back pushing a man along on his path, and a quick duck carrying her under a thrown bottle. Someone noticed the pair of them moving for the door, and seven and a half feet of angry red lobster-man suddenly lurched between them and the door. Weaver met the gaze of his eyestalks, holding up a hand to indicate that she had it under control before Gersham did anything particularly chivalrous. There was a slight shudder and a jerk from the massive armored creature as she worked her spell on him, fingers from four arms slightly playing as if over invisible harps for a moment as she wound his hydraulic muscles tightly. There was a slight choking rasp of effort from the man as he made a shaky, juttering step out from in front of the door. Oh, he was a willful one, but once she was inside Weaver's control had nothing to do with contested wills. With a slow sweeping gesture and turning step forward, she approached the door as the man dropped heavily to one knee and raised his claws up in a mock gesture of beseechment. Weaver settled the blast in his upturned pincers, smiling slightly as she knew the man had no fingers with which to use it, and then pushed open the door with a jaunty jingle.

"So, enlighten me! What venue would better suit the tastes of displaced royalty?" she said with a voice that sounded on the brink of self-satisfied laughter, bare feet dancing across black concrete as harsh neon displays cast her pale features in shades of garish pink, blue, and orange. She took a moment to tug at the front of her shirt, "Nothing too fancy, mind, I'm not really dressed for it."

Gersham had grinned up at her, it was hard not to after all. Though there was a moment of caution when she leveled the blaster at him which had made him consider that he may have to do more here, his deliberate ploy to remain down could be a miscalculation on his part though that intention had vanished after a moment as she changed her mind.

There wasn't enough of the drug to influence her mind just yet but it was the promise of something further that had to be just as effective. Of course he was still uncertain if she had been a fan or just a casual spectator that caught his recent match. But he was placed more at ease as she changed her mind, this would make things easier for him later on though he did consider that he had never used the drug on her kind, perhaps she was immune or it affected her differently.

“Then, I am lucky and honored.” The chaos had continued about them and since this was his first bar fight he had followed with her assessment of the matter. Perhaps there was a certain appeal to this venue of fighting. Gersham was always in search of a challenge of course and not having a scheduled opponent in a free for all like this might do some good on occasion. He'd try it once or twice more before deciding on it one way or the other.

They made their way through the crowds and he had to defend himself against some reptilian thing briefly until it was attacked from behind. But when their way had been barred by the lobster Ahira took charge which was fine by him.

Some how she didn't strike him as the sort to be protected in this fashion and seeing her react reaffirmed to him that she could take care of herself. In that bar she was the only one worth making off with if he had been so incline and able to best her of course though that had not seemed to be a factor tonight as they stepped out into the street.

He looked her over, pleased with what he saw of course. He had assessed her in that moment and figured she probably wouldn't be too interested in getting a cafe someplace quiet but considered on a place that was half way between such extremes.

“A hotel room would do, though later on that. There are so many interesting things we can speak about first, this way.” He gestured taking her away from here to a place near the arena. Another dive though more of the gladiatorial crowd. Many eyes swung their way as they entered.

The place had a stage and on it was a ring where two alien beings were wailing on each other, what looked to be some sort of man alligator hybrid fought against a squat multi eyed alien. There was a balcony over looking the stage and a rowdy crowd on the floor level gambling on the fights.

The better gladiators had reserve seats in the balcony when around, many of the newbies and not so great gladiators were on the lower levels and it was to his usual seat that they were escorted.

“There are open fights here, usually one gladiator that has a grudge with another though the contests don't often get too severe to the stage of death I have seen three contestants expire. Suffice it to say I have only been here about five times so the odds of seeing a fatality or mortal injury is about sixty percent.”

"Honored perhaps." Weaver said with a bit of a smirk, "Lucky? Well, we'll just have to wait and see, won't we?" Oh, but this was nice. She'd rather thought that Gersham's touch was some form of aura, or perhaps a form of sympathetic connection to his more infernal nature, but even now that there was a little distance between them she could still feel the effects of their brief contact on her flesh. A contact drug secreted through his pores, perhaps? She danced a few spiraling steps towards a guardrail, looking at the street below as people milled, settling her hands on the rail and raising onto the balls of her feet as looked at the press of bodies below.

She felt him move up behind her, and her tongue traced along her painted lips and her eyes hooded in consideration as he mentioned the possibility of a hotel. For a creature that had so thoroughly embraced their licentious nature, that brief contact they'd shared was less distracting and more energizing, her excited nerves making her aware of her surroundings in ways far deeper and more intimate than usual. His closeness only made her feel more flirtatious for the time being. She turned to face him, a lone finger pressed against his chest as she touched a finger from one of her other many hands to her lips.

"Why Gersham, how scandalous. What would your esteemed peerage think? With a fallen priestess no less." she lightly traced the finger against his chest down over his sternum, a mischievous twinkle still in her eyes as she leaned a bit forward to fill his gaze with her face and sodden decolletage.

She did so love the hustle and the bustle of star ports. So many lives, some passing beyond each other without comment in the night, others briefly and intensely enmeshing each other before being painfully torn away by circumstance, and still more were steady and thick people who'd put down roots in what was essentially a rootless community. She could see it all like spiraling gossamer threads spun in intricate patterns, and could feel the tug of her own winding thread in the tapestry as she moved. Still surrounded with festive lights and the chorus of chimes, she paused momentarily as she passed a shop window, her reflection showing clearly against the dark room beyond. She clucked her tongue slightly at the deep uneven splotch of red that had stained the ghostly white cloth. The fabric was far too delicate to salvage . . . but surely, she couldn't afford to be see in public like this! What to do, what to do?

"Just a moment, Love, need to make some alterations." she said, running her fingers up through her hair and then letting it flounce loosely as she pulled her hands away. Perhaps unsurprisingly, she came away with a small blade made of crystalline blue material, refined to a monomolecular edge. Useless as a weapon in a stand up fight, but more than up to the task of assassination, she held the stained fabric out from her body and slid the blade through the layers of fabric smoothly. She cut a deep v-neck into the front of the dress, plunging the neckline clear to he waist. She'd had to cut a little too wide to get all of the stain, the edges of her darker aureola appearing in her reflection. She let the fabric hang naturally from her shoulders for a moment as she let four arms reach out. It was difficult to see what she did, folding the uneven edges of he cutting out of sight, she traced a pair of quick "Z" motions with her free hands. Nearly invisible threads lanced from one end of the deep gash to the next, using the elasticity of the fabric to narrow the "V", hug her curves tightly, and press her bare bosom together in a fairly impressive display of cleavage. She tilted her head to the side and considered the reflection

"Mmn, it'll do in a pinch." she conceded. As they approached the bar, she stepped up close to him, threading her arms through one of his before they crossed the threshold so that it would be difficult for any to challenge that they had arrived together, her chest lightly cradling his arm as she favored him with a bit of a smile. Sometimes, there were benefits to being seen with the well-to-do, and Ahria was happy to play the part of arm candy to smooth their passage.

Ah, the atmosphere changed again, though subtly from the last time. Fists full of money flashed and were waved overhead, drinks were poured, and epithets were cried as a bone-jarring THUD rang out, one combatant slamming the other into the stage and trying to get himself in position to seal the deal. In her own bar, the feeling was one of anger and released tensions. This, on the other hand, was blood lust and mob rule, it slid over hear like a silk sheet making her shiver slightly before she loosened her grip on his arm to slide smoothly into one of the plush chairs of his reserved box seat. She had the perfect view at the relationship between the long-nosed alligator man and his multi-ocular opponent shifted slightly, a cord fo fear ringing out as the squat creature began powering it's way out of his toothy adversary's grip.

"Personal grudges, eh? I'm surprised that their handlers let them engage in them so casually here, such things are usually choice fodder for selling tickets to the big show." she took a moment to stretch impressively, arching her back and sticking her legs out from her seat before she settled back into her seat, folding two hands behind her head. "My my, sixty percent? No wonder the crowd is so riled up . . . they're almost a floor show by themselves."

“Yes, I suppose that lucky has yet to be seen.” He agreed though there was this energy that had emitted between them that could not be denied. The more he thought about it the more that he wanted her, an unusual state of being for him for sex had been so commonplace that he had been turned on by it's allure only on those rare occasions where he had actually had to work for it.

Whether in the arena where he had to earn the right or like this had more of an appeal than just taking it. Of course there were times where he was pleased enough where this spilled over to his sexual appetites too.

The fact that Ahira was close to him and making more contact with him had been a good sign after all but he hadn't been in a hurry as pleasant as the thought was that he entertained.

“A former priestess? Well, it would not matter really.” He approached her then caressing her check just a little with the tips of his fingers reinforcing the fact that this was of little concern. Just traces amounts of that drug for now.

“You had the good sense to give it up and I am only half incubus after all. But it is more thrilling knowing that something is forbidden.”

It was quite the show actually. Telling in more ways then one as the blade indicated that she was not a stranger to killing. Her aerola on brief display he could feel that he was starting to stir below, not fully but enough.

She had shown that she was skilled at weaving to and as he watched he had assumed that translated over to bondage in the bedroom. He wondered how strong those threads actually were though he was soon joined by her again. “Radiant my dear.”

He took her offered arm patting and rubbing the back of it though he refrained from using his touch on her in any other way. He just wanted to touch her in some fashion. They would enter together and as there was no mistaking that they arrived together and she would afford the same perks as the gladiator himself.

“Oh their handlers don't often know about it, a few have turned up I am told to take their acquisitions back. Grudges for the most part, not all of them are gladiators but some work in the particular survive of one and might take offense to the remarks of some other gladiator's “roadie”. Some are open challenges, since a lot of gladiators are here newbies challenge veterans all the time. I wouldn't be too surprised if I get called out again, I was last time.

“Such fighting is often frowned upon and the bulk of the contestants are either newbies or free gladiators so they are not missed if something were to happen to them.

“So, former priestess Ahira? Tell me a little about yourself.”

"A fallen Priestess." she clarified slightly, shifting her weight towards him in her seat and turning to look at him, "There is a slight distinction. I still practice the skills considered holy by my people, though I've "lost my way", turned away from spiritual enlightenment to embrace this world more fully than would be considered appropriate. Of course, back home there'd be a concerted effort from the Church to either correct or sanction my "perversion" of their sacred writ." she paused a moment to gesture outwards as a large roar came from the crowd below, waiting for it to drop to a low roar, "But, I'm well beyond their reach these days."

She rolled her shoulders slightly as she considered how much she should say. The slight trace of his toxin and the alcohol in her blood were doing their work on her, the longer she was close to him it seemed the more her imagination seem to run away with her. There was a warm expression on her face as she indulged herself some fairly exhibitionist notions, the thought of her bent over the balcony as he pressed in from behind. Or perhaps they could commandeer the stage on a pretext, she could play the ambitious young gun looking to make a name for herself out of his hide easily enough . . . mmn, they had arrived together, but she supposed that wouldn't preclude her calling him out if she liked. Ah, but then, there was the more illicit option of drawing the curtains closed and just using the box seats . . . perhaps not a sound of it would be heard over the crowd, but then, perhaps it would. She smiled a bit lazily, keeping the thoughts to herself, but letting them stir her warm blood a bit further.

"It's not as though I ever asked for their training, mind." she shrugged slightly, "According to the stories, there was a pilgrimage before I was born, a holy assembly was responding to the summons of another enlightened race to compare notes and seek a deeper understanding of the universe. A surprisingly progressive occurrence from what I've seen of this galaxy, I personally suspect it was a trap, regardless the assembly never arrived. There was a great metallic heap traveling silently through the expanses of space. It didn't show up on sensors for whatever reason, and once the pilgrims vessel was close enough they suffered some form of engine failure being pulled into the heap's gravity well."

She turned her attention back toward the match as the crowd howled again, there was a spatter of dark ichor across the stage now at the toothsome fighter tore a chunk of his adversary with his teeth. It had clearly pained his opponent, but now the squat creature had his broad hands clamped around either jaw of the alligator and was forcing his teeth further and further apart. He'd either run out of strength, or the jaws would break before much longer.

"So, I was born on the heap. The elders called it the Castigation of the Weak, and we were far from the only crew who'd been ensnared by it over centuries of it's subliminal wanderings. It was . . . hard . . . living there." she said, her eyes focusing on something altogether outside of the room as she briefly dwelt upon her formative years, "So, I did the only thing that made sense. The first opportunity I found, I got the hell out. It was a bit of a suicide mission, the Castigation was passing close enough to an inhabitable planet for escape pods to make planetfall. Didn't even know if there was a civilization there or if we'd have to make due like primitives, but anything was better than The Heap. The problem was that the escape pods with the proper orientation had been co-opted by a colony of aggressively mutating bio-forms . . . the number of us willing to make the attempt were few."

"But I made it." she smirked a bit, letting it grow into an appreciative grin at the loud crack the echoed from the stage followed by a strangled howl of pain, "I bounced around for a long while doing odd jobs, trying to find myself in a big, bad old universe without a more powerful patron to cling to for protection. Sometimes it went south on me, but I was always quick to bounce back. Spent a little time with a group of thieves before I transitioned into piracy using an armed shuttle." she laughed a little bit at herself and pressed her hands to her temples, "I might've had more moxy than brains at the time. Still, I managed to build up a reputation, get a proper crew, and after a particularly lucrative job I traded up to a Frigate. I'm still Captaining the Wayward Star today, though she's in for a refit at the moment."

"The crew took to calling me Weaver, and so I've been using it as a nom de guerre for the last few years. I'm no Blackstar . . . but give it a few months. I've something in the wings." she chuckled a bit, then gestured over to him, "And how about you, Prince? As with all celebrities, you hear a lot of rumors but the truths are always hard to sift from the fanciful talk."

Holy, he hated that word though he had managed to corrupt a fair share of priestess in his day that had believed that they could control him though that was never actually the case. Still he did like what he heard though, it proved more encouraging then anything and seeing that he had never encountered her species before he assumed that they were either rare or in a distant part of the galaxy.

“I see. Still I doubt that will be a problem.” He considered it a moment, casting his gaze casually at the fight as the gator had sunk his teeth into the leg of his opponent that brought double handed ax fists on the back of the creature.

Such delicious thoughts that had streamed through her head. He may have given her a stronger dose of that aphrodisiac to ultimately see what choice she made though he was not limited to just one of those options. He was use to having an audience for some of his performances and to be the envy of every male being in here would have been just as enticing as the prospect of being with her.

He found himself drawn into her tale looking to the fight as she did. The ocular being moved from double ax handles on the back of the creature to trying to pry those jaws loose.

He could only imagine from the sounds of it. A pretty thing like her snared up on a ship where escape seemed hopeless would lead to a living hell of sorts. The only salvation … well he skipped over such thoughts for he felt certain that she did not look for any pity or symphony in relating the tale though he could have guessed wrong too. It was a hard life and in such times many found solace in religion.

It did make some sense with her being outside of the reach of others of her kind and given earlier experiences she might not have embraced religion like the others that practiced her religion. He considered the things that had been left unsaid as much as the things that were.

“My tale is hardly as interesting or as daring. There are holes in my memory, things I cannot quiet remember. Things I do that make no sense. From what I've worked out though my mother consorted with demons. She was a wicked Queen amongst the Unseelie Fae that consorted with various incubi for company.

“The inherent magical nature of the Unseelie and the composition of the incubi produced me in time. Eventually my mother perished and I had a younger brother who was full blooded Unseelie though by some right he made himself Fae, he was suppose to infiltrate the far Kingdom but ended up assimilating.

“What followed is still a bit confusing though I have pieced it together as best as I could. I killed my mother through poisoning both of us gradually, my demonic nature making me immune to poisons. I came to rule over the Unseelie, my brother now my enemy.”

He looked to the stage to see the alligator man being carted off with a broken jaw, most impressive though the victor could hardly stand.

When he looked back he studied Ahira. His thoughts of course were not the purest though he kept them together. Long enough to finish his tale at least. “I have most of my memories of ruling, of having my own enforcer Esper at my side but the setting I once lorded over seemed medieval in nature. I was brought to this era before my brother as he was as an Unseelie to an island with a school on Shokushu.

“I have no memory of what happened to Esper but the Queen of the Fae I discovered was a student. My brother had some form of control over me which I could not explain forbidding me from interacting with three of the students. One he had later added, the other two stem from my memory, one of which had a different name from what it is now, the other being that queen and the third an ordinary student.

“I have suspicions though have not worked out what was wrong though there was a shuttle that launched periodically for the stars. I have free reign in space to do what I would though I spend most of my time here locked in various contests. From time to time I have to check in compelled to do so though I have not discovered why as of yet or what compulses me.”

Others of her kind might be less generous with their terminology of her position. "Heretic" or "Witch" almost certainly have been thrown into the mix, or, at least, their equivalencies in her own tongue. Weaver continued to practice the skills because she found them useful, but she'd thrown the doctrine out long ago in favor of more rewarding pursuits. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the life of an ascetic appealed little to someone who had grown up with nothing, in some ways she liked to think she was making up for her stolen childhood with her current excesses. Still, she worried about what would happen if her own people ever did catch up to her, though she privately channeled that worry into a few themed fantasies to keep the edge off.

"Nonsense, it's only uninteresting to you because you've already been through it." she smiled slightly, pulling her attention away from her own internal reminiscing to look back over at him. Idly, she found herself thinking of ways she my secure him to his seat for her to take advantage of, propping her chin up on the arm of her seat, a finger curled over her smiling lips as she attended his words with a running commentary of passing fancies.

"Hmn, see? A tale of courtly intrigue, scandal, ambition, treachery . . . hardly dull." she said graciously. She hadn't much knowledge of the nature of Fae creatures, but it was enough for her to know that they were a magically inclined race locked in some manner of rivalry with another clan. It helped explain Gersham's rather impressive suite of abilities, it seemed to her that he may well be as much spirit as he was flesh.

"And yet, still, a mystery!" she added, shifting in her seat slightly and folding two hands in her lap, "I'm far from an expert in such matters, mind you, but I might throw another theory into the mixture for you." she idly rested on arm along the back of his chair, leaning in conspiratorially.

"Your lineage is half demonic, eh? It's a possibility that your infernal nature opens the door to you being summoned, and though you reign amongst the Unseelie I'd wager you have little recognition amongst the courts of Hades. The Queen of the Fae may be a crafty one . . . consider your Bans. You cannot touch certain members of the student body, two of whom you have memory of; she protects her allies. She is trapped on Shokushu, but you are free to roam so long as you report your findings; she is using you as a scout. And so long as you are here, with us, you are not tending to your Court. What might your brother accomplish in your absence?"

"The 'ordinary' student . . . she doesn't fit the pattern. Beware of prophecy, Black Prince, even if you cannot have her I would watch her close." Of course, if she could see the girls, she might be able to glean something from their threads, sussing out the connection they might have to her companion. She smiled slightly to herself as well, an opportunity to familiarize herself with the nature of those he was banned from might not be remiss either . . . if she were at least somewhat familiar with them, perhaps she could spin for him an illusion wherein he might work out his frustrations at the denial. A fine gift, she'd wager, should she have occasion to give him one.

“Perhaps I do find it less appealing since I've already lived through it.” He considered her words and figured that there were things that he had taken for granted in his past. Fae, demons, such creatures as these even magic. It was all commonplace for him though things like most modern tech, expressions for the most part had eluded him where they were simple for most.

This was only confirmed as she mentioned the sort of tale that this was of course. It was chalk full of entertainment value he supposed now that he was able to reflect back on it with her prompting though more than one shrink probably wouldn't mind telling him that he had mommy issues considering that he had killed his. His father he never knew of course being raised by the Queen though he knew his bastard of a step father over the long centuries.

“I suppose that it is one full on intrigue and still has a bit of intrigue with a hint of mystery.”

He considered this for a moment though he could not help but take peak at that cleavage wondering if he was going to get a taste. Probably but there were no guarantees in life.

He reasoning was sound. Once while at Shokushu he felt a tug that drew him towards a particular student that was trying to summon him. He did not know why he was drawn into that area as if he had been compulsed in doing so.

“It does make a degree of sense. Demons can only be summoned and controlled if you knew their true names though my half brother knows mine.” Gersham reflects on this for a moment, he regards her with a grin as he considers something.

“Your ship is being overhauled? What are some of the things that you excel with on the shipping lanes.” He figured that he had an idea of such things though he kept his assumptions to a minimal at this stage.