Mathias smirked, lightly, at her regurgitation of his assertion. "Yeah... it's odd to think about... I know." With that, his legs gave out and he returned to the floor, crumpled and breathing heavily as the poison coursed through his body. For a moment, the events of the past two minutes or so flooded his mind, and he realized that, for being a gladiator, he was a horrible showman. The initial anger and seething hatred, the fear and the adrenaline... all of those things had subsided and left only emptiness that was filled with sardonic amusement and a growing impatience for the fight to end, for the arena to return to normal, for the monks to come and heal him, and for his life to become one step closer to being useful.

"H..hey," he said, hoping that he'd have something to say afterwards - something important and meaningful. That list, limped-along and painfully strung sentence that would give meaning to the otherwise short, abrupt, and lackluster battle. But nothing came from him - only to him. He wasn't quite taken aback by her admission, as he was certainly in a position to accept it with ease. Instead of feeling shock, he felt kinship. Or sympathy, empathy... something of that nature. Something that bound the two together. It wasn't a strong tie, or even mildly so. It was loose, but it was undeniable to him that it was there.

Her magic threads flowed forth, and he tried to say something... he wanted to say something... like, "Sorry you didn't get what you were looking for." But instead, he only thought it, and that thought died as his last breath left his body and his eyes glazed over as the emotions left them.

~

But death is just another aspect of the show. Another part of the diversion and display, one more small, but important facet to the great facade that passes for entertainment. And death doesn't really last all that long.

As Lillian shrieked her revelation, she cut the monk attending to her. (Which was bound to happen, given the traumatic nature of most battles. Mortals couldn't be blamed for the fits of grief and rage that took hold of them as they returned to reality) She stormed from the room, and they tended to Mathias. He awoke much more quickly than expected, thanks to Lillian's own magic, and he looked around his barren chamber, out of breath and unable to explain why. He launched to his feet, stumbling as he did so. He hobbled out of the room, listening to the echoing footsteps from down the hall and around the corner.

Damnit... he said, bracing himself for what he knew was going to be painful. He ripped himself away from reality and planeswalked into an ethereal and hollow realm, where he could run as fast as he could without the Pagoda's walls impeding him. He jaunted to the building's entrance, unrestricted and even bolstered by the plane's vast void. As he reached his destination, he returned to the Firmament and the walls, the people, the registration desk with the fat woman, and the city of Scara Brae... all of those sprung up around him as he turned around to face Lillian, running at him without realizing it.

He held out his hand and looked at her, his gaze steady (though his hand wasn't), and did his best to smile. "Hey... you and I. We've got a lot to talk about," he said.