Unseen Academy

XVI: Olma Dotsk

    At the sidelines, underneath some of the spectator seating Olma lay, groaning as some of the event’s cleric’s tended to her wounds. With the healing magics working on her she was starting to wake up, finding herself surrounded by her friends. Rynn, seeming anxious as he himself could not also be healing her, Victor and Max - the ranger twins, peering down at her and seeming to grow excited by her waking up, and…Theo. The only one not looking at her- and the only one she really wanted to be looking at her.

“Ugh…what - what happened?” She started to attempt to sit up, rubbing her aching head.

Max gave a shrug, with a sympathetic look. He couldn’t speak, but he didn’t need to. The look said it all. She had lost.

“That weird blue haired guy didn’t even get a hit on you…I guess he used some boring magic to take you out…” Victor, Max’s near identical twin explained.

Max and Victor had been been impossible to tell apart. Some even joked that they switched names at some, or multiple points during their childhood. They had been a very chatty pair- until the accident happened. Olma didn’t know any of the details - she never had the courage to ask what happened - but Max had taken on serious injuries, especially at his throat. It left him not only with a very obvious and identifying scar across his neck, but it also left him mute. Olma found herself forcing her gaze elsewhere, anywhere besides the twins - from where she sat it was too easy for her to stare at the old scar.

So instead her gaze fell on Theo. She gulped, as she felt the healers finish up, and back off, giving the group some space. “How-how did everyone else fair?”

The group fell quiet. Their plan wasn’t panning out exactly as hoped. “I’m sure Onze will make it to the finals…” Rynn said quietly, something somber about how he said it. Victor nodded already planning to surrender to his friend.

Olma reached out a hand to lightly touch the paladin, hoping to get him to look back at her for even just a small moment - but before she could reach him he stood, barely stepping closer to the sunlit arena. “Where is she?” he muttered, having been scanning the crowd the whole conversation. “You’d think with that beautiful ruby hair she’d be easier to spot…”

Olma’s nails dug into her palms, and she found herself shaking a bit. “Really?” she said under her breath. She’s here injured, talking to him and he's thinking of that rich trouble making bitch. She didn’t doubt for a moment that if the girl’s mother had not been a Merlot she would have gotten herself executed by now. Olma just couldn’t see what he saw in his ‘intended’.

For a moment, Theo finally glanced her way. “You’re still bleeding…I can have my father fire that cleric if they are that bad at their job.” he said, mildly irritated.

Olma looked down her self, before finally noticing that it was her hands, from digging her own nails into them - she went red faced, “Uh - no, it’s it’s fine…”

Theo shrugged, before leaning against a support beam as he began his search again.

Olma just let herself flop back down onto whatever it was that they had had her laying on. The tournament couldn’t end soon enough for her.