She feels naked without her magic. It's a bizarre feeling, and more than a little terrifying when she's been thrown into an arena where she's expected to murder others. Death, she isn't squeamish about. She's killed before, but always for a reason, a cause. Here it was so senseless. Of course, it changes things that she doesn't have any power of her own. Mages are trained to fight with their staves, blades and adornments added to the ends for blunt force when something gets too close, but she's used to that kind of thing with the power behind it. Even the pulse of the anchor on her left palm is absent here.

So instead of fighting tooth and nail for weapons and supplies, she runs. She isn't a close-range fighter, and those with more considerable strength will crush her before she even has a chance.

She chooses to lose herself among the strange structures, looking for an advantage, something she can use for her survival. Because while she may not be strong without her magic, she is a survivor. When she spots a length of metal piping broken from one of the objects, she grabs it, an idea forming. She finds a few sharp, rusty pieces of metal, and secures them to the end of the makeshift staff with weeds ripped off the side of the same rusting structure she got the metal from, and feels a little better. The heft might not be the same as a solid oak magic staff, and she might not be able to shoot lightning bolts from it, but it'll do.

She's giving it a few practice spins when she hears someone approaching behind her and she whips around, angling the metal pieces out. She won't attack first, but she won't hesitate if she isn't given a choice.