Room 6

Hawthorn shrugged so widely that it almost looked comical. "Sorry, I'm colorblind. I don't know the difference between them." It was a lie. Hawthorn was not colorblind at all. Of course, her enemy had no way of knowing whether or not it was true. "Be a kind soul and choose for me, please?" She appeared humble in asking for her opponent to choose for her. Her frown turned into a kind but weak smile as she tore several pages from the good book. Each page became a Black Cross in her hand, taking the form of the cross-shaped daggers she had become so proficient with. Without hesitation, she flung one towards her opponent. However, the force of her throw was rather weak and despite looking like she was trying her hardest, it was more like when an idol gets to throw the first pitch at a Japanese baseball game and the ball fails to even each the batter. Like the ball, the dagger dropped and stuck into the ground halfway between the two people. Hawthorn looked very embarrassed and laughed as she rubbed the back of her head awkwardly with her free hand.

Hawthorn squinted her eyes as if she had trouble seeing what had occurred. "That's an interesting trick," she said with a kind smile. "Do you perform at birthday parties? A friend of mine has one coming up soon..." There was not a hint of mocking in her voice - only sincerity. Hawthorn reached into her robe with her right hand and pulled out a signet ring, which she slid onto a slender finger on the opposite hand. On the seal was an elaborately designed cross fitted with an inscription in Latin. Alea iacta est. The words were once spoken by a great Roman general and statesman. Although the ring carried a powerful magic within it, it appeared so expensive that the Lord would surely sigh to see a woman of God wearing it. Now, Hawthorn tossed three more Black Crosses, though all fell far short of her enemy. The final Black Cross in her hand was tossed idly into the air and landed less than a meter from her in the ground. "I really am no good at throwing these things," she said with a sigh. A faint glow now surrounded Hawthorn, giving her an almost holy radiance about her. Hawthorn continued to stand in place, watching the enemy and the arena.

If she felt worried, Hawthorn certainly did not show it. Even now, as daggers rained around her, a peaceful smile remained on her face. She felt no fear - the enemy had yet to give her any reason to fear. Parlor tricks were hardly anything to worry about. The dagger above her fell fast enough to kill her should it hit. However, she did not move. The dagger which fell down onto her and the daggers falling around the arena seemed to avoid her. They came close to hitting, but seemed to be repelled by an unknown force. Hawthorn idly played with the ring on her finger. "Protection from projectiles. A simple ward, but a powerful one." The tone of her voice was calm, "It's the secret of this ring!" Indeed, it appeared that Hawthorn could not be hit by these projectiles, but despite her words, the power of the ring was something else. It was a simple lie, but one that an ignorant opponent, she felt, was sure to believe. "You'll have to try getting a little closer if you want to hit me." Regardless of the true power of the ring, it seemed projectiles could not affect the immovable object that was Hawthorn. As of yet, she had hardly taken even a single step, and nothing had yet happened to move her from where her feet were planted.

Alea iacta est - the inscription on the ring. The words were once spoken by Julius Caesar as he crossed the Rubicon and into Italy. Caesar was marching on Rome, his home. This was the action that began his war against Pompey the Great. The great general known as Caesar declared alea iacta est, for once the dice are sent rolling, they cannot be controlled. It is a phrase that signifies inevitability; something unstoppable.  She, too, was an inevitability. Though she could not see her enemy, her powers refused to wane. She could not be changed by outside forces. She stood, solid as the Rock of Gibraltar. She was essentially locked in both her state of being and her physical location. Why had she barely moved until now? It was because of the limited mobility the ring gave her. However, the ill effects of the ring would soon be wearing off and she would find herself able to move from her physical location once more. Hawthorn had always been a very practical woman. When she saw the winds blowing, she had a knack for orienting herself favorably with them. This was no different.

She knew not the purpose of the wall that had been erected before her, but it worried her not. It should have been clear to everyone from the start that Hawthorn believed herself to be in control from the start. Obviously, that feeling had yet to change. The enemy had done some interesting things, but all of them that she could see had appeared nothing more than tricks. The faint glow about her increased in intensity and the ground around her feet seemed to turn white. From the white splotches of ground, seven gravestones sprouted up. The stones appeared old and decrepit, but their inscriptions could still be read. All shared the same epitaph - Sum Quod Eris.