Snippet #2768018

As the first round wound down and Aedrios Gale began to speak, Demor's body began to glow brightly again, and he returned to his normal form, shuddering as he blinked, and continued to recover from the strain that Dragon Force puts on his body. A locker room? With food and showers? Sounded perfect. As the doors opened, Demor walked with the crowd of mages towards the locker room, licking his lips. Food sounded great, as did the shower.

A race, eh? He sighed and found a locker, stripping down and tying a towel around his waist before heading over to the buffet table, and quickly piling multiple plates worth of food, and heading back to his locker bench to chow down while listening to Jaune and Shinku, as well as the others as they discussed the possibilities for the next round of the games. Regardless of the obstacles that would appear in the race, Demor was naturally much faster than the average human eye could see, and was equally as agile with his years of battle experience and the added agility due to his tail. His magic was versatile enough for most elemental blocks, and he was tough enough to power through a lot even without the need for his magic.

Finishing his food rather quickly, he walked past the boys, his eyes lingering on Nao, sensing the boy's affinity for Lightning magic before he walked past and stretched his shoulders with a groan, his tail moving to take the towel off his hips and place it on a hook so he could shower without getting the towel soaked and making it useless. As he stood under the hot water, his body shook and he half chuckled to himself, the steam and hot water revitalizing him as it cascaded down his scarred body. Spotting Jaune, entering the showers, Demor smiled and lifted his chin in greeting.

"Yo, Jaune! How'd you do? I sort of... black out a little when I go Dragon Force." he said, shrugging, his eyes naturally going towards the female contestants that he could see, if the showers weren't gender segregated. His eyes didn't linger for long, but he did feel his lips tug back into a smirk, teeth glistening.

"Lot of Storm Users, or lightning users here.... plenty of fire users too." he added with a shrug, dipping his head under the hot water, scrubbing his hair clean before sighing and rinsing off, turning around and opting to let the hot water run down his back for a few minutes while he and Jaune talked.

After finishing talking, however, he turned off his water and began to dry himself, humming a Draconian Lullaby to himself. Demor wasn't being his usual flirty self that Jaune and Iviri had come to know outside of the competition, but then again, perhaps it was the competition that was making him act this way. The combination of all the other mages and the prospect of fighting them making his normally laid back, care-free attitude give way to his competitive, serious nature.

Inwardly, he was concerned. There were so many children competing. Or at least, those many would consider to be under age or children. He had no doubt about their powers, but the fact that they were here concerned him - how powerful could the most powerful mage on this world be? How powerful was he in comparison? He had heard there was a ranking system, but didn't really get to study too much in detail about it.

Guess he'd have to do a little research after the Grand Magic Games, he supposed. After drying off, he wrapped his towel around his hips again and walked back to the locker he'd chosen for himself, getting dressed slowly, almost as if in pain. Now that he was in the light, and mostly bare to the world to see, those watching him would be able to see the many scars that his body had. Many had healed and were merely discolorations in the skin by this point, but at the same time, the area of his upper back where the wings seemed to sprout from his back when he entered Dragon Force seemed to be deep cuts. Not bleeding or even painful looking, but definite differences in texture... valleys in an otherwise smooth surface. As he dressed, many joints popped audibly - perhaps his body was stiff after his performance, or perhaps he wasn't in as good a shape that he portrayed out in the arena.

Or perhaps it was all a ruse to make the others under estimate him, allowing him to snatch victory.

Slipping the last bit of his clothes on, he made his way back to the buffet table and served himself again, this time taking his time to eat as he watched the others around him, Emerald, Reptilian eyes looking out with a predatory gaze over the crowd. Searching for weaknesses or lack thereof. Searching for those who he could defeat easily, and those who might give him trouble.

Race-Wise, Demor wasn't worry in terms of needing to pack. His cloak kept him relatively warm in cold climates, and being Reptilian made him predisposed to warmer climates. His speed and agility could get him through obstacles, and his power could handle most anything that stood in his way. Needless to say he wasn't worried for now. If anything strange popped up that he wasn't accounting for, however, it might have him reconsider his options, but for now he was confident.

And Ultimately, confidence was what won the day more often than not.