It was time.<br/><br/>What they’d been gearing up for, the plan to that took so long to finalize, was finally being put into play. It didn’t sit well with her, to take these people and drag them into a game where, though they’d survive initially, nothing was guaranteed. How could it be? It was game of chance based on cards dealt, and tests, pitting them against each other to decide which they wanted for a war…<br/><br/>Nothing about this would be fair in the end, no matter how the participants were chosen, but she had no say. She had to do what she was told and leave the rest in the hands of the gods; As what was done for centuries before her, it’d be done now.<br/><br/>All the preparation left her anxious, somewhat more resigned than usual. She was loyal, of course, the loyalty that she’d once dreaded finally becoming one born out of necessity. That necessity morphed into her own, oddly found camaraderie with the Ryiah. The woman could be harsh, downright intimidating at times, but she’d been the one constant thing in her life, apart from the other servants. She was the one that offered her immortality, albeit at a price…Despite that price, Brooke was devoted. Ryiah was all she’d known for the last few hundred years, and so she’d remain to be, long after this war was over.<br/><br/>The day it was all said to begin, though, she had her doubts; Unvoiced doubts that lingered in the back of her mind and continued to make themselves known despite her resolve to forget them. What would happen? What if she or another failed and one of them died? What would happen when all of this was said and done? Where would they, or the world be?<br/><br/>She got ready slow that morning, as though for a funeral. The others were filled with a casual excitement, some far more excitement than she could justify, but she brushed that off as her old ways. Any excitement at violent acts was frowned upon. Displays of such, she wasn’t even allowed to view.<br/><br/>Yet, here she was, sitting in the coliseum, her usual dress of a more somber color, lacking the drive to try and emulate the finer hairstyles she’d seen surfacing with the times. Instead, it simply hung about her shoulders in loose waves, her eyes downcast at the floor directly in front of her, rather than at the center of the ring. Hands fidgeted with the fabric of her dress while Wryn sat beside her, far more intent on when they’d appear than she. Where he was relaxed, propping his legs up and taking full advantage of the view point, her posture was rigid, straight-backed. Though her normal posture was of good standing, this was stiffer than normal; Something she couldn't have avoided even if she wanted to, not with her current mental state.<br/><br/>…And then she felt it, the pull.<br/><br/>The air practically shimmered, her eyes drifting closed as the chosen few began to arrive. One here, another there.<span style="font-style: italic">They are no one, no one of consequence…They are to do the job given, just as I am mine. So it is said, so it will be done,</span>came a thought, shaking her head to mentally jar the thoughts back to a more silent state. Her mind had almost gone blissfully blank when Wryn’s voice broke through that shroud she’d only just comprised. Leery of the sight that’d meet her eyes, she halfheartedly lifted her gaze, not quite following where his finger pointed, if only to spare herself just that little bit longer.<br/><br/>“Was it you who sought him out?” Brooke asked, instead turning her gaze to her shaggy-haired compatriot's direction for a brief second before dropping them once more. Her voice was quiet, demure, as was the gaze that came to rest back on her hands, stilling them to keep her mental unrest, visibly, at bay. “What of the others? Do they seem niveau dirigée, or as strong of will as he whom you have such faith in?”