Thread: Sacramentum Gladiatorum (Machiavelli & Andronica)

Before the young welp could stand and square off again, a feminine voice cut through the air, two words. His name was one of them, a curious fact. Rarely was he addressed by name, by anyone, in such a setting. Normally he heard it in the roar of the arena, not spoken like this. Peculiar. There was clearly a note of harsh displeasure in the voice, however, and with a light scowl, he lowered the training sword, yielding. Spearing the sword into the sand, he turned to face the domina on her balcony as she ordered his opponent to the medicus. Was she... concerned for him? Clearly she was, as she returned her hot gaze to him. The scowl did not move from his face, brow furrowed and eyes dark. Her words more or less slid off him, more stunned by her willingness to speak out against him so firmly and angrily, as well as her... softness? Though he was on the receiving end of her wrath, there was something surprising about her care for his opponent. He hadn't encountered such selflessness in a time. Yet her fury annoyed him. There was no such mercy in the arena. The boy she had spared would learn nothing from her kindness, and was simply given an escape from the lessons of combat. Still, he held his tongue. Much the same, he had nothing to gain from speaking out here, nothing to gain but more wrath. Her comment that about his acting like an animal struck particularly hard. He was an animal. He was a hunter, a predator, forged by the fields of war and maintained by the brutality of the arena. His civilized nature had been stripped from him in battle, torn apart like his friends and brothers at arms, and left to die on those blood-stained grounds. What remained was the cruel survivor. She knew nothing of the animal in him. She dismissed him from the ludus, and the doctore stepped toward him. Leaving his wooden sword in the sand, Maximus spun on his heel and allowed himself to be escorted to the room he was kept in. There, he spent the next hours brewing. He held little true anger - she had seen but a glimpse of what he was and it horrified her. However could he blame her for that, when he found no pleasure in what he was either? From his seat on his bed, he gazed out the window as the sun sank slowly down toward the horizon, lighting the hills aflame with reddish beams. He was startled as the guard outside spoke up, and he slid slowly to his feet. The domina? What did she want now? Hadn't she been satisfied with the verbal lashing she had already provided? Nonetheless, he turned, back to the window, to face the door. He wore a simple white robe, which flowed over his masculine form like a liquid, from his left shoulder where it was pinned with a brass pin down to the mid knee. His right side was left uncovered, arm, shoulder, and breast bare. His dark eyes raised up as she entered, taking her in without an expression. She was attractive, with her hair like fire and lithe form, clearly a woman of wealth and comfort. Hed already seen that she had a kind heart, a most unusual trait for a woman of her stature, but it drew his attention. It was... refreshing. Despite his instinctive anger at the morning's events, he had found a peculiar curiosity there too.