So, the lights were on. That was an improvement.

It was the last thing she could remember. The pitch-black darkness and the warnings that something was snaking in the shadows. One of Nemean's Overseers had been hunting ruthlessly, the last she heard-- a dappled, deerlike creature had been telling her of it. Bargo, or Gasgas, whatever its name had been. Eurydome hadn't sweated it too much, she just did what she always did: she followed orders.

The caves were quiet. Was there still fighting going on...? Everything seemed... normal, aside from the silence-- which only told Eurydome that some must still be hiding after all this time, or maybe they had fallen asleep, too. Is that what happened to her Master?

Jupiter hadn't woken her up, but something must have-- something that had decided to leave her promptly, it seemed. No orders. No Overseer lingering. Eurydome had nothing to do, and that didn't quite sit right with her. She could wander around yelling for names she knew, but that didn't seem clever, either-- not with the way things had been left before she slept.

So, Eurydome went to where she always used to be when nothing else was happening.

Orion was quiet. The Forum was quiet. The Arena was empty. She crawled into the entrance and padded out into the wide ring that somehow, to her nose, still held the coppery scent of blood-- but here, there was only dust. The seats were empty. The air was still. There were no eyes on her or voices chanting for the spill of blood and violence, and more importantly: there was no Jupiter.

But, Jupiter could find her here, if she woke up. If she needed her. That's all that mattered.

In the meantime, Eurydome would train. She paced into the very heart of the arena and stretched her aching limbs out until the joints clicked. Then, she was focusing, drawing magic-- the amethyst spur glittered at the back of her leg and a short burst of air rippled through her fur.

Directionless. Short-lived. Weak. How long had she been asleep for, that even simple little spells very nearly took it out of her?

She hated to think about it too long.

Something lurched in her heart.

Breathless, fur tousled by wind, Eurydome turned. It wasn't who she wanted to see calling her name but it was welcome nontheless-- memories flashed before violet eyes and she, for a moment, relived the feeling of acrid teeth ripping fur from skin, the delicate sound of ripping and the roar of the crowd as glittering, iridescent golden blood coated the arena floor.

The Forsaken Reverant had taught her a critical lesson: don't get too cocky. For that, she held no true ill will-- even through their little rivalry, Eurydome felt fond of Vakornol. She liked her company, and she liked to watch her fight whenever she wasn't in the ring herself. She studied and she memorized and she admired, admired a lot more than she was comfortable admitting.

Her tongue swiped along her jowls. "You're missing a few," the gladiator couldn't keep the purr from rumbling in her throat, even as the amaranthine fur along her spine began to bristle with anticipation. "I'm surprised no one has killed you yet, Reverant."

Vakornol would lunge at any moment-- this she knew. The amethyst blade was lifted from her shoulder and despite the twinge of nervousness (am I still too weak? I do not want to embarass myself...) soaring through her limbs she held it loosely, eyes pinned on her new-found opponent. It wasn't the first time-- it wasn't the last, either, but here, now...

There was no audience. There was no sound beyond a few ragged breaths and the sound of Eurydome's unsheathed claws clicking delicately against the arena floor as she slowly paced sideways and back, alert, braced, defensive. It was only a fight, and yet there was something so private about this affair, about the gaze held between them, about the uneven grin consuming Vakornol's face.

Her face felt hot in a way she couldn't describe-- an invisible fire being thrown in her face. She could almost taste the smoke.

And yet, Eurydome's body did not betray her. She knew this dance and automatically, as if she had been here just yesterday, she was already searching Vakornol's movements, her eyes, the slightest twinges of the Valkhound's muscles. She spoke freely, as if nothing had been weighing on her mind at all.

"Give me everything you have," she snarled.

There was a twisted sort of comfort in this, Eurydome found. "I rarely give them the chance," she answered coolly, and she felt the twinge of her cheeks rising as her lips pulled into a little smirk of her own. But that was all-- was there really need for fanciful words and taunts when, again, there was no audience?

Eurydome did not often fight for.. well, the sake of it. She was an entertainer first and foremost-- that much was in her very design. She was flashy, bright, commanded attention right down to the glittering blood that flowed through her veins. Although the privacy almost scared her, there was a certain revelation that had her prepared for Vakornol's loping gait towards her.

If in doubt, she could at least entertain herself.

The Gladiator was weakened by her hibernation, but the muscle memory had not left her. Vakornol's forelimb struck out and in an instant, Eurydome had swept away from it. Powerful legs brought her a good few feet away, darting just out of the Valkhound's reach towards her left. Huge paws brought up dust and pebbles as she skidded to a halt and pivoted to face Vakornol again, rippling muscle in her legs prepared to repeat the evasive tactic.

Satisfaction sat deep within her belly, amethyst blade shifting diagonally. Now that she knew where Vakornol was thinking of aiming, she was sure to protect it-- a silent warning that the Reverant would have to come up with another idea.

"You'll have to be faster than that," she purred.