(Pre-Show) The Lobby

[Gildarts]

The immortal had taken a full sweep of the room, vibrating with life and the low murmurs of people planning their next move. The fast pace of interrogation he had left behind, squeaked through the gushing lull of the room and into his aware ears.

Isolation. He had eyed the hallway very shortly after his departure with the messenger, who had delivered the worst possible news: Fairy Tail couldn't be saved. Gildarts was trapped, not to mention inconceivably enraged. The cape that adorned his shoulders fluttered as he beelined away from the crowd of innocents. Had he let anything loose, the room could erupt and crumble in a single wave. Or at least that was how it had worked before he arrived at the Omniverse, though now his self control seemed even more hard to come by.

The little hallway branched from the main room, and tucked him away. He was about to feel some relief when a voice beckoned him back to the drastic reality he faced.

Gildarts tucked his chin below his scraggly collar and swiftly turned to face the man square on. It took but a second for the wizard's eyes to capture the intent of his pursuer. There seemed to be no malicious intent in the warrior's body language and the genuine curiosity could be read simply by his tone.

The youth seemed to be almost twenty, and Gildarts found himself realizing that he vaguely recognized the man with scruff etching his cheeks and jaw, as well as dark muddy eyes and a fabric cloak with fur lining its collar. Perhaps the resemblance was intangibly uncanny. With a grin, the threatening anger that seemed to surround the veteran wizard transformed in an instant. He always put on a good face for the next generation. Gildarts was glad to see the youth, for anything was better than dealing with spineless reporters.

The question finally reached Gildarts and his thick head had to think for a moment. Beneath my... Feet? Oh I must have released... The Prime looked back through the swarm of people and saw beneath the reporter's shined shoes the ground was muddled. An embarrassed hand moved to the back of his own hair, "Oh that, I guess it got away from me. You see, I can't always keep a handle on my magic..."

The wizard spoke as though magic were a natural occurrence, and with a stray eye judged that the young warrior was not from the wizard's own realm. The warrior's expression wavered with a hint of question on his face, so Gildarts explained.

"I'm not a native to this realm, where I am from there's a small portion of people who have magic that flow within their bodies. I just happen to be one of them." Gildarts didn't overanalyze his brief summary, though it was acutely vague, the confidence in his own ability seemed to fill any void that his words may have left.

The charismatic veteran regarded the warrior for a moment, he appeared to be quite young, yet the age of his experience could only be distinguished in the underlying tones of his solemn expression. A layer of invisible armor burdened the man's furred shoulders and seemed to be worn against an ever-waging battle that he had endured. With this, Gildarts perceived that perhaps the stranger was unlucky enough to have seen the blood of war. "And who might you be?"