Orcus
Straightening his back and shifting his legs to balance his weight, the Primal pressed a nursing palm to the gaping hole in his abdomen. His then thin chuckles trembled as he stood up, one foot then the other, steel wing retrieved to the liminal space below his shoulderblade rather than left to drag beneath him. He was watching Elizabeth. Irises like burning rubies, pupils like black pits, his gaze a spike of intensity that she couldn't miss. But whether he was allowing his interest to show or not, that was impossible to tell.
"Very sorry for not clapping," he said, taking in the chaos of the onlookers. "But ah, my opponent doesn't need my congratulations."