一 grounds, quiet grunts heard from her as she took some form of frustration out on the poor, inanimate object as if it was her sworn enemy.]

This sucks so much.

This is the happiest day of my life!

... That has to sting.

Wow, it took Ladon like ... six years to get Azalea to her execution. It took Paal like six minutes ...

Really goes to show you— OH SHIT, SHE'S ON FIRE.

[Meanwhile, she was celebrating with her fellow comrades, all victorious and cheering as they downed drinks.]

[Looking onto the gallows, lowering her mug.] Huh. I wonder what Lord Evantis and the burning bitch are talking about.

[Refitting her gauntlets on, her expression remained perplexed from the foreboding aura that lingered in the air.]

This isn't going to end well for anyone.

OH. MY. GOD. STOP WRECKING OUR SHIT, I /JUST/ REDECORATED MY TENT!

A wave of his hand, a mass of squirming, blood-oozing... /flesh/ curdles from the land beneath the tent and--... Swallows.

"There. Now it's ruined indefinitely."

[How could this happen to me, I made my mistakes, got nowhere to run–.] WHAT THE /FUCK/.

"Will you stop, /YELLING/?! You are giving me a MIGRAINE and I do not even have /NERVES/."

DO YOU KNOW WHO THE FUCK YOU'RE TALKING TO. I AM GENEVIEVE DI'XERIA. GENERAL. PART-TIME MOTHER FUCKING HAND MODEL. LOUD YELLER.

DO YOU EVEN /LIFT/, BRO?

Flexes, an action dismissing his clothes. Insert generic, pretentious, self-pandering description of how hot he is unclothed, or something.

Wow, if I wasn't busy, I'd ask for a throwdown.