Ballroom

Stepping out from a hefty clump of deadtime that will hopefully go unremarked upon, Elvanriina watches the spectacle of the drider fighting the gladiator with a lingering look of distaste marring her face, "How wasteful..." She remarks softly, but whether she's referring to the drider or the combat for sport is left up to the imagination. Considering the state of her house, she probably holds the lives of otherwise useful members of society in higher standing than most drow, male or not.

And then Sszy draws his blades, and despite being a powerful matron in her own, right the young drowess decides discretion is the better part of survival in this case, and steps back against the wall. It wouldn't do to have a crazed murderer attempt something just because she was close by. If someone is going to deal with him, it won't be her.