J.R. had been led in by a very strange goat man. She brushes her hair behind her ear, still uncomfortable with its short length. Blood from her, street squabble, lets call it, still stains her hair and half of her face. Her mind still reels from the fact that not only is myth [i]real[/i], but she just so happens to be the daughter of a god. She sighs and winces slightly at the screech of a... is that a [i]griffin[/i]?! She finds her way to a giant purple flame surrounded by all sorts of people. And other species. She listens to a very nervous boy, around her age, talking with a fairly strong Irish accent.