~Grace~
Vivian steps into the center next and the noise rises like an ocean, roars from the commoners. Her black body suit stretched tight over her skin, the sigil of a silver moth glittering over her left breast. Crescent shaped daggers are strapped at every point of contact on her person and you would think she came here to hunt prey.
One blown kiss and everyone practically salivates at the sight of her, shrieking. The screen up above is already showing the number of people voting for her. A hundred and seven now and she hasn't displayed a single skill.
"She's popular, I guess," I mutter as Mila straps a dagger into my thigh. "Are we supposed to dress like princesses out there? Should we not find something else?"
"There's uniqueness in diversity, my love. We should come in style. Since we are not as popular as that annoying bitch, we could get people's votes by our dressing first."
