Astrid stood proudly at the back of the restaurant area of Vaska , a smirk starting to grace her lips as she watched the guests indulge and delight in her newest creation. Many of these socialites had been invited exclusively by her, though some had followed the hype and swindled themselves an invitation to the opening. Astrid couldn't blame them for wanting to do so. But if she was honest, she didn't care much if they let the slightly lower aristocrats into the restaurants - after all, it was the below level that required the most attention.
It was almost time for the first ever fighting ring to premiere. Many of those who knew it was going to happen had subtly began to make their way toward the spiral staircase, trading knowing glances to each other. This was a shared secret, and everybody seemed to enjoy being a part of something new, exciting, and sinister. As far as Astrid was aware, anyway.
To her, this was the opportunity to show off her prowess in the delectable arts. She could barely contain her excitement; she had a feeling there would be sighs and gasps and squeals of terror as the brawl commenced. She also had to presume that it would become a weekly occurrence to many, an almost addiction to the finer sports and extremities.
Astrid almost lulled herself into a daydream before snapping herself out of it, instinctively placing he hand on her stomach. She almost hoped someone asked her why she wasn't drinking the expensive champagne along with everyone else - perhaps it was just obvious.