Spirits of the Earth

The entire way to the barracks, Yasmin kept waiting for someone to pop out and scream, "Just kidding!", after which both she and Agrian would be dragged away to executed. She kept waiting for it, and didn't stop bracing for it, until both she and the other gladiator were locked away in their holding cell.

It was only then that reality began to sink in. They were alive. They had gone into the arena, and yet both of them had come out alive. For a moment she just stood there in the middle of the grimy room, staring at the backs of the guards as they left. And then it hit Yasmin suddenly and she laughed so abruptly it hurt her side. Clutching her side with a groan, she turned to look at the man in wonder.

"You actually did it," she said, shaking her head and grinning. "I can't--you actually pulled it off!" She laughed again, and before she knew it she was hugging him, something she rarely did. But it was also rare she felt such elation, such genuine relief and happiness.

"You ginormous, wonderful, genius of an idiot! I'm alive! You're alive! Faruq and Habib are gone! This is crazy! How did you know that would work? Because goddess, you gave me a goddamn heart attack out there! I could have killed you! I was trying to kill you, haha! But you did it! I don't even know what you did, but you did! How did you do it? And why the hell didn't you warn me, seriously, I was gonna KILL you."

Her hug had turned rather rough toward the end there--less of a hug, and more of a tight squeeze around his ribs like she was trying to crack them. Because honestly, she didn't know whether to be elated or scared or angry about the entire situation, so instead she settled on a mixture of the three.

Good thing he had his helmet on, or it might have been his neck getting that treatment.

Agrian wasn't going to pretend the hug was unexpected, nor did it make him any more comfortable than he already wasn't.  But he didn't cringe and silently waited until Yasmin's prattling was done before he carefully peeled himself away from her.  Truth be told, he didn't really believe they weren't going to be killed either.  At least not yet anyway, and not right away.  Admittedly, the move the Shah had made to execute their masters had been an interesting one and one that allowed the woman to save face while still showing that such 'defiance' would not be tolerated.

Agrian blinked at Yasmin for a long time, unsure how to respond before he cleared his throat.  "No you weren't.  Going to kill me that is," he said resolutely, feeling quite sure of it.  "I may have helped hone everything you know.  But I never taught you everything I know."  He glared at her in the dim lighting, but then something happened to his lips that he didn't quite offer to anyone else, but felt he was safe enough in the 'privacy' of their holding cell that no one else would see.  He smiled.  And that was evident only through the fangs that came down on either side of his mouth from his traditional serpent helmet.

It was amused, easy, but brief and he shook his head, the remnant of that grin still playing on his scruffy lips.  "But truth be told...we're luckier than you're giving due credit.  We might still be killed after all.  Shah Persea, however, can't afford to allow her new subjects to see she's unable to deal with a little dissent.  And what kind of image would she send if she executes a few slaves.  We die by the dozen, easily tossed away like a Merchant Prince's unfinished dinner as scraps for the hounds.  Of what importance could we possibly be to anyone...but our Masters.  Now...I don't think I need to tell you how that turned out," he said softly.

His head was hot underneath his helmet and he gently slid it off, in the solitude of that cell and walked over to the water basin to douse his head and face with cool water and took a few drinks for himself.  "Don't get too excited just yet, Yasmin.  We're still in the frying pan."

Well, thank Hakeshna he was so certain she couldn't have killed him, because she had certainly been trying! Yet even as that absolved a little of her guilt--he was the only person she felt comfortable calling 'friend', and yet like the brothers in the arena, she had tried to tear him down to the roar of the crowd--the gladiator in her was concerned, because her performance had been terrible and she needed to train harder.

But she pushed those darker thoughts from her head because Agrian was actually smiling beneath that helmet. It was brief and hard to see, but it was there. No hard feelings, right? They both understood. It was just the way of things here, in this life.

With a snort, Yasmin joined Agrian at the water basin and punched his shoulder lightly. "You fool, don't invoke luck in this! You could have just told me everything went according to plan and I'd have been all awestruck. It's what I would've done. You're way too humble. Now scooch, I want some."

Nudging her way in, she splashed her face with water and took a several long drinks as well, not realizing how damned dehydrated she was until she started drinking. She must have sweat everything out through blood and fight and nerves! Between gulps of water, she looked over at Agrian. "So...what are you saying, exactly? You think we're not getting off this easy? I mean...you don't think she'd like...kill us after making such a big deal about how it was our masters that failed us?"

She shook her head, grinning. "It always annoyed me, but I guess it's good people think us slaves are idiots."

"I guess because there is some truth in it, if you give it some thought.  A slave is nothing more than a readily-able servant.  Most aren't even able to speak clearly, much less are taught to read, or given anything more to do with their lives. And perhaps learning how to use that illusion is the greatest asset a slave could have, if he truly does know what to do with himself - or herself," Agrian commented, even as she practically drank half the basin.

"But...don't give me too much credit.  I couldn't have known she wouldn't have sentenced us right along with our former masters.  Our chances of being executed are still rather high, I'd say, if you want me to be honest..."  And he gave Yasmin a devious smirk.

Yasmin stared at him, hands half raised to her mouth and dripping the water that was cupped in them as his words slowly registered. Oh dear Goddess, was he serious?!

"Hold on. Let me get this straight. Are you seriously telling me you really had no idea how this would go?" she said slowly, still gaping at him. "You did all that, told me everything would be fine, and...and you had--have!--no way of knowing that? And we might still die? What the hell are you smiling about?!"

She had no idea how he did it, how he could look so confident while making such a statement. Sure, she could hide her fear behind humor, but that wasn't quite the same thing as insufferable confidence!

"The same reason you laugh," Agrian replied, his mouth crooked.  "It's the only way I can stay sane.  At least in the face of all this.  Despite what could've happened, it doesn't change what did and that's what we at least have in our favor.  I have a feeling the Shah will want to see for herself what brought about this sudden defiance, though just be glad it was I that caught the center of her ire, rather than you, though you were meant to be killed by my blade."

His expression sobered considerably and he sat down on one of the downy cots.  The holding cells were considerably cooler than he expected with the walls designed to shed some heat and at least part of them were built below ground to keep cooler.  The undried water collected and dripped from the end of his nose and he felt the droplet seep onto his palm.

His mouth hardened.  "Do you think we could just go back to being the subservient slaves we were meant to be...assuming she lets us live?  Er...sorry, I.  I didn't mean to assume you were automatically in league with me.

"I have an inkling that's what she would expect of us, possibly seeing her mercy a warning sign, and others like us, that if there is in fact a 'next time' she might not be so inclined to show kindness."

Yasmin raked her fingers through her short hair, wetting it, and flicked her wrists to get rid of the excess. "No, it's fine," she said at last, and pressed a hand to her bandaged side. "Using 'we'. Look, I'm gonna be honest with you, Agrian. But this has to stay between us--not that you'd tell anyone, just...you know." Not trusting people was, at this point, merely habit. "I don't know how much longer I can do this."

She began to pace. She was tired enough to drop, but filled with too much energy to be still. "Fighting, I mean. Killing people. Always dreading I'll have to fight someone I know. Having to kill someone I know. I'm sick of it. I make myself sick! Agrian, it's no way to live, but I keep doing it because I'm too scared to just...give up. But it's making me crazy. I mean, look at this!"

She held her hand up, wiggling her fingers so he could see the black tattoos on each one. "I remember each one, you know. Even though I don't always know their names. So no. You can use 'we', here," she said, and gave a lopsided smile. "I'm with you. Because I just...something's got to give. I can't keep doing this. I can pretend, if that's what you think we need to do, if that's what the Shah wants, if that'll get us out of this alive. But I just...can't."

He knew too well what it was like to bear the burden knowing you had to kill those you had become acquainted with.  Friends, brothers, sisters, in arms and blood and for those that had yet to harden their hearts, they often stayed up night, and perhaps even lost the will to live.

He didn't know what to say, for the first time in his life, before he stood up suddenly and hugged her all on his own.  He stayed that way for a moment before stepping back and falling into the cot.  "Then it's set in motion, and there's no going back.  I for one agree with you.  I couldn't just go back to the way things were.  You're not even a person anymore...you're not even animal.  You're just a blood stain waiting to be cleaned up....  And nobody gives a damn."

Yasmin was taken by surprise when Agrian actually hugged her, and for a moment she hardly comprehended what was happening. She had always been a tactile, open person before her life got twisted and taken from her, and Agrian had found himself on the receiving end of that a few rare times, but never the opposite. For a moment, she just stood there in awkward disbelief, but then, finally, she wrapped her arms around him and gave him a gentle squeeze back--and it was a genuine one, not a "I don't know whether to hug you or kill you" hug.

But soon the awkward moment was over, and yet, she was glad for it. Hugs were funny, stupid things. It made her feel a little better, a little more human.

It also drained out some of the tense, nervous anxiety.

Exhaustion catching up with her now that she had relaxed a little, Yasmin took a seat, sorely, on her own cot. "So what do we do now?" she asked at length, and cracked a grin. "I mean, aside from get all gushy at each other, haha--seriously, none of this leaves this room. But I mean, you can't keep doing it. I can't keep doing  it. But we're stuck here." She tossed a pebble at the wall of their cell.

"And we're going to be sold again. If we don't die here, of course. Then it'll be right back to the ring with us, and as we've both established, that's just not something either of us want or can put up with. I know if they sent me back out there after all this, I think...I don't know. I don't know if I could just throw down my sword and refuse to fight, because I don't know that the other person won't just gut me. I mean, you told me you wouldn't hurt me, and what'd I do to you?"

"I can't say I know what's going to happen," Agrian confessed.  His eyes were hard, as he stared up at the lantern lit cieling.  The light was too dim, even for a barracks holding cell and made their situation seem even more grim.  "We will be sold yes. Unless the goddes might miraculously favor us and the Shah decides to be generous and give us our freedom."

Agrian barked a harsh laugh, one that faded quickly.  "I think the beter question is, not what we'll do, but how long this can last?  This whole system.  People become so complacent, satisfied with their lots in life because this is how things are, justified simply because this is how it's always been.  How long will it be before something drastic happens?  What will happen when a slave, a handful even, wisens up...rises up and says, 'Enough!'?"

"Wasn't that you today?" Yasmin said with a wry grin. "Saying, 'enough'? Isn't that kinda what we're both saying now? Of course..."

She scooted backwards onto the cot so she could prop her back up against the wall. "Of course, we're not a handful. And we might not even make it out of here, heh. But what you're talking about...you're talking rebellion."

And then she glanced around, as though paranoid they might be walked in on at any moment. "Supposing we survive this...you think that's possible?" And as much as she hated it, she let a little hope creep into her voice, because she liked the sound of that: of slaves rising up, collectively, because they had had enough, demanding their freedom and taking it for themselves--and throwing their masters to the lion pit instead.

Her eyes weren't the only one that shot to their holding cell door.  Agrian's did so quickly however, without moving his head so much as a fraction of an inch before he looked back at Yasmin and his expression hardened.  "It's only possible if people want it bad enough..." he said lightly, softly, in a voice barely above a whisper.

"And I want it, Yasmin.  I want it bad.  There's only so much we can tell at what's going to happen after what I did in the Arena.  People are going to talk.  We'll have to listen to just what they say.  Any mention of rebellion, might not be taken so easily, so kindly.  Some slaves actually don't mind their station, especially if it's better than ours, some don't have half a mind to even imagine the possibility of freedom.  But if I go through with this...and I see nothing saying I won't, we'll have to be careful, Yas.  And we'll have to find out who we can really trust."

"Go through with 'this'?" Yasmin repeated, head tilted while a mixture of curiosity and concern played across her face. She leaned forward in interest, then winced and grabbed at her side when the motion hurt. Ugh. Thank goodness it wasn't a deep wound, but it was still deep enough to hurt.

"Alright, two things! One," she said, holding up a tattooed fingered, "what, exactly, is this? And two--" She held up a second finger. "--why are you saying I? You're not alone in this. Whatever you're doing, Agrian, count me in on it. Tell me how I can help, what I can do. I know it's gonna be dangerous, whatever it is, but..." She motioned around them and barked a laugh that hurt her ribs. "Danger's kind of our life, eh?"

She gave a little shrug, and her smile turned softer and more genuine as she looked over at him. "I know not everyone's gonna be so hot about this stuff as we are, but we can't be the only ones fed up with the whole thing. Maybe all it'll take is just...some little sign to show them they're not alone. Shit, I thought I was alone! Then you did...that. And now here were are, having this conversation, talking madness and dreams." She shook her head. "Can you imagine what would happen if one day everyone just refused to fight?"

"I mean staying committed to...resistance to put it lightly. And...to be honest, I never really thought of myself as a leader of men.  I know what I want, I know I don't want to die in the Arena, in that pit of blood and sand.  But if we're the only two who want this, how can we be so sure others will be willing to join us.  That is why we must be careful.  A slave who doesn't know anything better than what he has won't necessarily listen to all the reasons why we resist, why we want freedom, perhaps even something more.  We would need to find others who think like we do, who are fed up just the same."

Agrian turned to look at her and his expression even turned into something of a sardonic smile.  "I would say we should speak to our friends, what little of those remain in a place like the Colosseum.  But people you know, talk to them, scope them out.  Don't just blurt it all out, don't be too pushy, like how I know you can be."  He stuck his tongue out at her.  "I mean, just talk to them.  And even more importantly, listen to them.  How they feel, how they think, if they think at all.  And it's also important to find out who they know and how those people likely feel in turn.  Hell, maybe even scope out their owners if that's even possible.  The more we know the better."

Yasmin stuck her tongue right back out at Agrian. "Pushy, my foot. Where do you think I got it from?" she teased, but she knew he was right. This would require more tact, more stealth, and more thought.

Running a hand through her short hair, she looked thoughtfully up at the ceiling. "Hmm. I know a few people I can chat at. Unfortunately, most of the people I know would be receptive to the idea are dead. Big surprise, I know. But I can scope people out easily enough. I may be pushy--" She grinned pointedly at him. "--but I'm fairly sure I can get people to talk. Maybe try to give a little nudge in the right direction, plant a little dissent..."

She rubbed her side. "Honestly, Agrian, I think most slaves aren't content. I think they're scared. And I don't blame them." She shrugged and looked away as she admitted, "I am, too."

She couldn't sleep that night, tossing and turning about on the plush layer of pillows that made up her bed. It was too hot, and she was too anxious, and after tossing about for a few more hours, she threw off her covers and rose from the bed. Kehfta peered up at her lazily, the cheetah's tail wagging a few times before curling up against her body. Peresa made but one motion to the cat not to follow, so she did not bother to rise. However, her green eyes remained upon Persea until the young woman was out the door.

She didn't know where she was going, or what to do with herself, but what started as a pacing through the halls, and her briskly waving off the guards not to fuss over her, she found herself on the other end of her palace, near to where the dungeon was kept. And near to where those two disobedient slaves were kept.

She kept thinking about the man's eyes, those terrifying, angry eyes. He had spared the female slave's life, and though she was thankful she did not have to witness that, part of her could not get over the idea as to why.

Curiosity got the better of her, and before hse knew what she was doing, she was waving off the guards to be silent and still, and then making her way through the dungeon walks. It was so dark here, so cold, she felt her hot body shivering as her sandaled feet shifted across the grounds. She must have appeared other worldly, for the only light that shown in was that of the moon, and it caught the translucent garb of her night dress that hung off of her body, and she- wthout her wig, dawned the natural curls that fell in bouncy spirals upon her shoulder.

She hadn't heard anyone speaking, any of the dungeon dweller's away, so when she approached Agrian and Yasmin's cell, she remained as quiet as a mouse, stepping clean up against the bars and peering curiously within.

[I don't think cheetahs have green eyes]

Someone was here.

Agrian's eyes shot open and he held his breath.  He wasn't all that much of a heavy sleeper.  He'd never had been.  Even if these dungeon cots were a lot more comfortable than anything to be found in the Colosseum, to be sure.  It was a decent night's sleep, though his mind was rampant with thoughts from earlier, of Habib, of that bastard's head decorated with a noose.  It was a lovely sentiment and let Agrian's mind rest easy for a brief moment.

But now, now was not the time for sleep and he heard the soft crunch of a sandal on a stone floor that made his eyes jerk open.  He reached for his helmet, which rested beside his pillow, just in the shadow of the cot above him and slunk it over his head.

He sat up in bed, throwing his legs over the side and viewed a shape through the dim lighting, a head through the iron barred window of the cell door.  "What?" he asked, speaking plainly.

OOC: Of course they can XD This is a fantasy rp 8D
You just go to believe
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Her breath hitched in her throat the second she saw the moonlight gloss across the man's helmet. And even through the shadows, she could see the dangerous glint in his eyes. She clung to her meager robe, and tried to steel herself, but if he were to observe her thoroughly, the moonlight was shining across her trembling lips.

"You do not sleep?" she asked, her voice between that of a command and a whisper.

[But it doesn't make any sense! :U *nag nag whine nag*]

"You came all the way down here to ask me that?" Agrian said sharply, clearly skeptical.  His eyes remained shadowed by the brow of his helmet and only part of his beard visible by the bottom  near the serpent's fangs that was the face of his helmet. 

Breath hitching fearful in her throat, she held it a moment, green eyes dancing in the moonlight. The way the shadows cast over his face made him appear menacing, as wicked as the snake, and she felt a lump form solid in her throat. When she released she had to breath, the breath was released through trembling lips as she observed him in the tense silence they shared.

"No," she told him quickly, through a whisper. She began to regret coming here. This was surely not the way to calm her mind, for her heart was beating so fast, it was deafening.
"My mind has been ill at ease from your display," she told him, confidence in her words, even if it was that she was truly lacking. "I wanted to see it for myself, the very slaves who defied my orders."

Hearing voices, Yasmin was up and alert in moments, her heart jumping into her throat and every muscle tensed for fight. Her sleep, like most nights, had been fitful (but thankfully, night terrors had not accompanied these dreams; she would die if Agrian knew), and she slept lightly even when she slept well.

Agrian was already up, helmet on, and she saw that he was talking to someone through the bars.  At first, Yasmin couldn't make out who. But then she heard the voice, saw the gleam of moonlight off curly, feminine hair. But more than that, it was the voice--Yasmin would never forget that voice, for it had changed her life--and her words confirmed her identity. The slaves that defied my orders.

Still seated on her cot, Yasmin couldn't help but laugh at that, the sound bursting from her lips so abruptly it surprised her. It was a surprisingly merry sound, for that statement was so...so ridiculous to her!

"Your highness," she finally managed through her laughter when it had receded to giggles. "I must apologize. I apologize, deeply, for not dying."

Agrian felt his face burn, as he turned to look at the source of giggles.  He knew he could trust Yasmin no matter what, but he supposed there were always times when too much of anyone's attitude was enough to grate on the nerves.  He checked his anger and turned back to the Shah from the other side of the bars.  He forced his expression to relax, though his eyes glittered as little more than diamonds beneath the shadows of his helmet.

"We are the slaves," he confirmed, his voice grave.  "We are most thankful for the housing you have given us.  Maybe it's too presumptuous to say it, but these cots are far more favorable to the rattan beds beneath the Colosseum."  He'd managed to bow his head before peering at her once again.

Persea turned to Yasmin when the woman laughed out loud and was take back by such a display. The laughter actually frightened her as she hung back, her body falling into shadows as she gripped onto the hem of her robe. Her heart was pounding inside her ears, but when Agrian's much gruffer voice came out, her eyes returned to him as she released a quivering breath.

"I did not come here to seek the thanks of slaves," she told him curtly, voice still trembling over a whisper. "But such... expressions, such defiance has not been seen in years."A nd here, she tried to harden her gaze as she inquired. "I want to know why."

Feeling calmer after her little outburst (she didn't mean to, but she still found this line of questioning absurd), Yasmin passed a hand through her hair and shook her head.

"Your highness, with all due respect," she finally said, and cut a look at Agrian. Taking a deep breath, she looked back to the Shah.

"What you're asking right now is...you're asking why my friend didn't murder me."

Her brows rose upwards at the female slave's words.
"Friends?" And she spoke it so innocently, as if it were some new concept, eyes going from one slave to the other.

Yasmin frowned, feeling anger and frustration building deep inside her--because she hated this. She hated the way that woman said it, like it was a foreign concept. Like it was such a stretch to consider that she and Agrian were human, not animals.

Not monsters.

But she swallowed it back. Snapping at the Shah, of all people, would not help their very precarious situation. Instead, Yasmin let her expression soften and gave her a sad smile. She didn't have to fake it; in addition to the anger and frustration, despair was pretty quick to follow. It was demoralizing, dehumanizing, to be viewed this way.

"Well...yes, Your Highness," she said, and realized then that though the Shah may not view them as human, Yasmin knew the woman was just as capable of feeling as she was. Wasn't she? Hakeshna, she hoped so. "I've known this man since I came here five years ago, scared out of my mind and sure I was going to die. He saved me."

She laughed and waved a hand. "Ah, not in the same way as today, of course. Just in the sense that I didn't know a thing about fighting back then. I had a fairly soft life before that. With no experience, I was certain I was going to die the instant I set foot in that arena. Haha, I think I cried myself to sleep every night before the big day. Anyway, this one here--" She motioned to Agrian with a lopsided grin. "He took pity on me. Showed me some things. He didn't have to, but he did--and I survived that day. And I'm still alive now."

Yasmin rubbed some old scars on her arm, looking away, and swallowed. "We'd never fought until today. I honestly thought I'd die--he's always been better than me. And I suppose that wouldn't have been so bad, since I know he would have made sure I didn't suffer. But...well, you saw what happened. I owe him my life twice now, and Your Highness, if you asked me to kill him, I couldn't do it, either. He's my friend."

She looked up at the Shah finally. "Could you kill your dearest friend if ordered to? The friend you owe your very life to?"

It was such a strange and new concept to her. She had grown up surrounded by slaves, and she knew their place, they knew their place, and it was just how things were. But this... this somehow made her realize things were, or could be different from her reality, and she wasn't quite sure how to take it in.

Surely this female slave could not think the Shah so heartless not to understand those feelings, but to think these slaves shared in those feelings, those sentiments...... It was turning her world upside down. And not that she was entirely naive to the concept, however, life was always set in stone- you were assigned your rightful place and that's just how it was. Who was the Shah, who had everythign anyone could ever want, to ever question that?

But question that every day she did. She did not feel the authoritative confidence her father had carried, or even that knowledgable confidence her High Priest wore so easily. They all knew their paths in life, they never questioned it...

Yet here she was, doubting just about everything that came before her, and this just trumped it all. She considered back to her own slave, to Malika, and at times, found herself treating her more like a sister than just some slave. But in the same passing breath, she could scorn her for any disobedience, which was a rarity in itself,a nd she always, always felt guilty afterwards.

But she is a slave. It still did not stop her from the way she felt, and seh tried to consider, fo ra moment, what this slave must be feeling. Yes.....
To kill one's own friend. What would she do if hse had to kill someone like Malika? Or Na'il?S he cringed at the thought. It put everything into a shattering perspective, and thoughs he sought answers, she was hoping this was not what she would find.

Agrian hadn't expected that answer out of Yasmin.  It honestly surprised him as much as it did the Shah.  Though his face remained as expressionless as before, inside he allowed himself a small mental smile.  Of course, it was a convenient cover-up for the real reason he had refused to kill her and Agrian watched how it slowly simmered and soon settled into the mind of the Shah.  She expressed more than she probably believed, for all the training she likely endured for public presentation.

He honed in on her eyes and how they gleamed in the darkness.  They were beautiful gems, it was a shame they had to be given to someone so blind to reality.  Yet there was an equally quick mind behind them and it worked, genuinely worked, to understand what was meant in the words of a lowly slave.

"It is true," he said with a bow of his head.  "I couldn't slay my friend.  Life...in the Arena is not an idle one.  Life is short, simply put.  Friends are a rare thing, for it is easy to smile at another one day, only to see them thrown into the Blood Pit the next, bodies piled upon bodies.  Always there are more.  It is only natural to wish to cling to those who you truly care for.  To treasure the time we have together, as brief as it is."

 Persea found herself backing away from the cell.
"Please stop! The visuals are too much to bear!" And her legs felt wobbly and weak, a wave of acid hitting her nose andccurling in her belly. Too much to bear indeed! It made all if Essryn appear like criminals!

"It's reality, Your Highness," Yasmin said, the words harsh, though she kept her voice soft. The woman was irritating her, but she tried not to let it show. Getting short with her wouldn't help them there; they needed to appeal to her humanity.

"Hearing about it is too much for you to bear, but Your Highness...it's our lives." Yasmin took a deep breath and dropped her eyes. "If hearing it is too much for you, what is living it like?"

She did not want to think that, never wanted to picture that,  but now the pictures were inside her mind, causing her to blanch as she placed a hand over her lips. And inspite of herself, the tears sparkling over her eyes were evident and she needed to turn away from these slaves in the cell and try to remind herself they were slaves.. But the guilt and fear was impossible to shake as the Shah tried to refind herself, and her.strength, in the shadows.

"I'm sorry it is too much for you," Agrian muttered, straightening, but his eyes bored into hers.  He sighed and shook his head.  "But what did you honestly expect?"

What did she expect? Certainly not this. This was a terrible realization in which was cracking the very foundation of which she lived. But no... no! She could not let herself think such weak thoughts. Shaking her head, she slowly removed the hand from covering her lips as she released a shaking breath.

"I expected slaves to be slaves."
And she said no more, and made for a hasty retreat. She couldn't stay here any longer. Perhaps trying to seek out answers from them was the wrong thing to do- because now she was finding herself struggling over the idea that maybe, just maybe-
These slaves might be human.

Yasmin watched the woman retreat, hardly breathing until she was gone. Though she would never admit it, those words hurt--even though she'd had them and others like them hurled at her countless times. That sort of casual, constant denial of her humanity never got easier to bear.

And this time, she had done the unthinkable; she had done something she had always been too afraid to do, something no slave in their right mind would consider: she had asserted her own humanity.

In the face of the Shah herself.

As soon as the Shah was gone, Yasmin let her breath out in a rush and flopped backwards onto her cot. "Oh dear Hakeshna," she said, pressing the heels of her palms to her eyes. "It will be a miracle if we survive the night."

[I am SO sorry this took FOREVER!]

Agrian was quiet as he watched the Shah disappear, peering at her as no one had any right to do so.  Something in him turned over, souring and he felt cold inside, much like the midnight draft that seeped through their cell.  Agrian finally took off his helmet when he was certain the woman was gone and he pushed back the hair from his head.

"We will live," Agrian said, more confidently than he felt.  "She's shaken.  Perhaps too shaken to come to any solid decision in this moment.  Perhaps by dawn.  Maybe then we'll see the headsman.  But tonight.  Tonight we can sleep well."

[Aww, it's okay silly! <3]

Yasmin stared at Agrian, mouth dropping open.

"Sleep...well...?" she repeated, slowly, blinking at him owlishly. "Do you wanna repeat everything you said just now and then explain to me how any of that translates to sleeping well."

Agrian laughed and shook his head, sitting down on the cot and smiled at her.  "Just lie down.  Go to sleep and try to dream of nice things.  Like kittens or pups."

"Kittens or pups." Yasmin snorted, and rolled onto her side so she could look at him. She cracked a grin. "Is that how you get to sleep?"

He didn't know what part to laugh at first and so he just snickered.  "I dream about sweet treats, a nice wine, long walks under the moonlight.  You know, Man Stuff," he said, grinning.

Yasmin affected a gasp, pressing her wrist to her forehead and fluttering her eyelashes in a mock swoon. "Oh, my stars! Wine and sweet treats?! Walks under the moon? You are just..." She let out a breath and let herself flop. "Soooo manly! Excuse me while I bask in your manly essence."

She paused, sniffed loudly. "Hm. Maybe that's just body odor. Same difference though, really."

"All right, all right," Agrian snickered.  "You know, speaking of essence, there's a secret market going on for certain people that request the...er, sweat of their favorite gladiator.  Think it's aphrodisiac of some kind.  Crazy huh?"

That got Yasmin sitting ramrod straight again. "What." She gawked at Agrian. "So what, they just...rub gladiator sweat on themselves or--Hakeshna forbid--drink it before they...uh..."

She made a choking sound in her throat, caught somewhere between laughing and gagging. It soon blossomed into laughter, and for a few moments she couldn't breathe. Finally, she sputtered out, "No way! Where can I donate?!"

"It's strange, I know.  But it's true!" Agrain snickered.  "They collect it in vials and sell it for a profit.  I don't really know how it works, but I imagine it's more the rubbing than the swallowing,"  He laughed and shook his head.  "You have to do well enough to be approached.  I'm not sure what the fighters get out of it, probably a few coins to keep their mouths shut.  But it's true all right."

"So strange! I mean, can you imagine?" Yasmin giggled--actually giggled, which she would claim she never did.

"Okay, okay, so two lovers have dinner, get the mood set nice and pretty. Things get a little steamy so the lady leads the man off to their candlelit chambers and whispers real sweetly in his ear, 'Mm, lover, I got this sexy new essential oil I've just been dying to use on you: Essence of Agrian. Take me, my burning gladiator of love! Show no mercy! Sheath your sword in me, like Agrian!'"

Bursting into laughter, she buried her face into her arms, shaking with mirth.

Even if her joke was at his expense, Agrian couldn't hold in his laughter anymore and unleashed a great guffaw.  "Dark Lust by Yasmin," he snorted.  "'Fight for me!  Dance for me!  WEAR A LEATHER THONG FOR ME!  Like Yasmin!'"

Yasmin was crying with laughter and had to wipe at her eyes between wheezes. This was so ridiculous--and maybe Agrian knew it or maybe he didn't, but this was exactly what she'd needed.

"I do NOT!" she laughed, and groped at the cot for something to chuck at his head, but found nothing. No pillow on her cot, at least! It was like they didn't want them to be comfortable in prison or something.

"Oh yeah.  I've seen you prance around in one when you thought no one was looking," he said wiggling his hand as if he were twirling it around his finger.

Yasmin made another choking sound and once again buried her face in her arms. "...That was ONE TIME."

"Sure sure.  It's not like I don't see it peeking out from by your hips right now," Agrian teased.

Yasmin lifted her head and stuck her tongue out at Agrian. "You telling me you're staring at my ass?"

Agrian snorted a little.  "No....  Maybe...  Yes..."  He laughed and threw his hands up in innocence.  "Okay so yeah I looked.  I'm a man, can you blame me?"

Yasmin's eyebrows lifted. "Reeeally?" Then she wiggled her butt a little and glanced back at it. "Well, it is a damned fine ass, if I do say so myself, and I worked hard to get it. 'Bout time someone noticed."

For a moment, he seriously thought she was going to start sailing curses and swears his way.  In fact he was still shocked at her statement.  He laughed soon enough and grinned widely.  "Well, you're welcome.  It is indeed quite fine.  It has a nice shape to it and an excellent lift.  I could balance a goblet on that thing."

"A goblet?" Yasmin laughed and shook her head. Propping herself up onto an elbow, she rested her chin in her hand and motioned with her other for him to continue. "Good, good, keep going! If I could die tomorrow, I'm gonna eat this up while I can, so don't stop the flattery now!"

Agrian rolled his eyes.  "All right then.  Your ass is so well round, someone could easily confuse it for the moon.  And I don't mean because it's large.  It's the perfect size.  Not too big, not too small.  In fact, I  bet I could play bongos on it."

Yasmin's expression grew flat. Agrian had been treading dangerously when he'd reached that moon comment, but he pulled off a nice save just in time, before Yasmin could chuck a sandal at his head! But honestly. Bongos?

"And you were doing so well..." she said with a click of her tongue, shaking her head. "You're not gonna net many ladies by playing drums on their asses. Is that something you think about often? Some sort of fetish?"

"Oh yes.  My goal in life is to find the perfect ass to play bongos on.  That is the highest calling any man can achieve," he said with mock seriousness before laughing suddenly.  "Well. No one could ever confuse me for a minstrel or a poet.  My ass is in perfect shape if I do say so myself."

"Oh, you don't even have to say it! I've noticed," Yasmin said, fluttering her eyelashes. "You could crush a man's skull between those shapely cheeks! Have you crushed any skulls, Agrian?"

"Only with my powerful muscular thighs.  Bam!"  Then Agrian showed off his leg, tightening all the muscles therein and trying to hold in a laugh.  "Aren't they amazing?  Here you have to put your head between them to truly appreciate their glory."

"I dunno, Agrian," Yasmin said, covering her mouth to hold back a snicker--and a slight blush. "I like my skull uncrushed! Or does that only work on men? I guess it'd be awfully awkward for your love life if it worked on women."

"It sadly doesn't work on anybody," Agrian replied, laughing still.  "I suppose sex isn't particularly high on my list of things to do.  Skull-crushing, I've discovered, is kind've a turn off.  Strange I know."

"That's news to me!" Yasmin said. "With the number of people flocking to see us tear folks apart, you'd think it was a turn-on."

"Oh probably for the same kind've people that buy gladiator sweat and stage mock battles in their bedrooms," Agrian smirked.  "How are things for you in that department?  Just as a matter of conversation."

Yasmin gave a choked laugh and pressed her hands to her face, shaking her head.

"Hah. Hahaha HAH! You're a funny, guy, Agrian!" she said with a snort. "Oh, things are fantastic! Really busy! Like, all the time, my cot is a battlefield of hot, hot lovin'! Pfffft." She waved a hand.

"Naw. The only thing that happens in my bed is a lot of snoring and drooling on my pillow. People don't really see me as a woman."

Agrian laughed for a few minutes then sobered a bit.  "That's a shame," he murmured.  "I suppose what really matters is how you see yourself, right?  And it's not like we have much else to think about in the arena, fighting for our lives every day.  I guess I just think sometimes a person needs something to make them feel human again."

Some of the embarrassment melted away at Agrian's words, and she lowered her hands so she could look at him. With a crooked smile, she sighed.

"Well, I know who I am," she said. "It's just hard sometimes when no one else does. You're right. It's nice to feel human sometimes. All this stuff is just...people really take it for granted. I know I did, before--" She cut off and shook her head. "Well, anyway, not gonna lie. Sometimes I wonder what it'd be like, having a lover and all those petty lover fights, having a family, maybe. Where the hardest decision you ever have to make is what to eat for breakfast."

She stretched out onto the cot, arms pillowed beneath her head. "I'd settle for someone calling me pretty and meaning it, at this point. But enough about me, what about you? I know you said it's not high on your to-do list, but hey, you get any lately? Eh? Eh?" She winked.

Agrian gave it some thought.  "Well, okay, don't judge me too hard.  I was kinda drunk.  Well, really drunk.  But you know the lancer, Jana, the real strong one?  I nailed her,  or maybe she nailed me.  I can't really be sure between the two of us.  It was like fucking a brick wall."

Yasmin stared at Agrian, eyebrows raising slowly.

"...I'm totally judging you right now."

Agrian put his hands up.  "Hey!  Hey!  It was consensual.  She said I was strong like a bull, then slapped me on the ass."

Yasmin snickered. "So she...rode the bull, eh? Really took you by the...horns."

Agrian laughed.  "Okay, okay, not the best turn of phrase.  But you understand my point.  Hakeshna.  Everytime I walk by her she gives me this weird look and then winks at me.  Gives me the willies just thinking about it."

Yasmin covered her mouth to muffle her giggles as she just imagined it. And it was rather hard to imagine, because it was so ridiculous.

Sitting up, having finally given up on sleep at this point, Yasmin grinned widely at Agrian. "You mean like this?"

She hooded her eyes and waggled her eyebrows at him, slowly nodding her approval and dragging her tongue across her bottom lip. "Mm, mm, mm! You sexy, sexy beast. Rawr!"

He knew she was egging him on, but Agrian just smiled and quirked his brow at her, chuckling at her antics.  "Almost.  It was more like this," he said and made kissy faces at her.

He laughed too and sobered a little.  "You have a nice laugh," he said.  "It's good to hear.  Sounds better than Jana's laugh.  She sounds like she's choking on a spear.  Wait."

Yasmin stared at Agrian for a good three seconds, her cheeks puffed out with repressed laughter, because it came out in a whoosh.

"Pffffffffhahaa! Ew! You WOULD know that, wouldn't you? Oh dear goddess, seriously, on a scale of one to fighting sandworms with a spoon, how much do you regret your life choices here? Honestly."

But then her grin turned genuine. "Really, though, thanks! I mean, I'm pretty glad I sound better than...that. Though I guess that's a low bar, eh? Anyway, you should smile more yourself. Looks good on you, and I don't think you do it enough. I know we don't really have much to laugh about, but...you know what I mean."

She tilted her head, then scratched awkwardly at her cheek. "Huh. Kinda funny to think, eh? I haven't laughed this much in a while--I mean, real laughter--and, uh, we might be doomed tomorrow. I don't wanna be all mushy, but I guess what I'm saying is, if I had to get stuck in a cell and executed with anyone, I'm glad it was you."

It was a decent time to be, er, mushy, as Yasmin put it.  They didn't really have anything else to do, and it was better than feeling the slow creeping hand of despair wrapping around his neck, suffocating him.  Despite Agrian's earlier display of confidence, he couldn't at all be sure they wouldn't be killed in the morning.  They were slaves, slaves that had defied the will of the Shah, challenged the very will of Hakeshna in doing so, and the only just punishment would be death.

But something inside Agrian was hardened, the knowledge that he really had nothing left to lose.  There was a wild desperation that yearned.  But for what exactly, he couldn't say.  It was a small candle that flickered against the coming of the storm.

A storm...

Agrian turned to look at Yasmin and he smiled.  "I agree.  I guess there are worse slobs for you to get stuck with, eh?" he said, chuckling lightly.  "Thanks though.  I appreciate it.  Friends got to stick together.  If we don't, we have nothing else.  Now, enough of that bleak shit.  We should catch some shuteye while we can.  I can't remember any cot this comfortable.  It isn't everyday we have actual cushioning."

"It's almost like we're being pampered," Yasmin said with a tired grin, and shifted a little to make the cot bounce before she sucked in a pained breath because it hurt her side.

"It even kinda bounces. And I can barely feel the rocks beneath it! Ah, but I'll stop yapping at you before you throttle me with a pillow. Good night, dear sweet slob. See you bright and early."

Settling down, Yasmin yawned and folded her hands on her belly, but though she was tired she just kept staring up at the ceiling. Sleep wouldn't come easily for her. It never did, and it rarely came uninterrupted. But Agrian was right. Whatever was coming tomorrow, for better or for worse...

It was going to be one hell of a big day. Wouldn't do to keep him up just because she couldn't sleep.

But the silence only lasted a few moments, because something he had said, no matter how much of a throwaway line it may have been, stuck with her.

"We're really friends, huh?"

It was hard to sleep.  It wasn't the cushioning of the cot - or lack thereof - but the thoughts that resided on Agrian's mind.  He wondered if the Shah would release them after all of this, growing angered at her lack of decisive choice.  She was a coward, he thought.  Too busy worrying what her people thought of her to stand her ground.  Oh, but he couldn't let himself be wholly convinced of that.  The Shah was still the Shah, and she had the power to destroy him here and now if she wanted to. 

But could she come to that conclusion herself?

The question there that hung in the balance was what kept him restless.  And when Yasmin posed her question, it caught him off guard.  He turned over on his side to look at her.  He wasn't sure what she meant at first.

But a smile slowly spread across his lips.  "Do you even have to ask?" he murmured, half-drowsy.

"Yes!" Yasmin answered, rolling onto her good side as well so she could better look at him. "Apart from the part where I kind of tried to kill you today, er. It's just." She gave a one-armed shrug and a crooked smile.

"It's just kind of nice to hear it?"

Agrian almost wanted to laugh.  A part of that feeling spilled out.  "You've never had anyone call you a friend have you?" he asked.  He knew what it was like to have people he thought were friends.  Companions and allies alike that had your back when it was convenient for them.  And the moment it was turned on them, when it was no longer relevant to their interests, the dagger was never far behind.

"I've been called a lot of things, but 'friend' was never one of them, no," Yasmin admitted, rubbing the side of her neck. "I've never called anyone a friend, either. Ah, wait. Actually, that's a lie on both fronts. Sometimes, I forget I had a life before all this! Does that ever happen to you? Anyway!"

She let her hand drop, picking at the side of the cot. "What I'm trying to say, I guess--and I guess I feel like it's important or something, life being short and all! What I'm saying is that, er...how do normal people do this again? Right. I think of you as a friend, too. I guess I always kind of did. But then there's the stupid paranoia and the whole, 'oh no! Don't get too close!' And the whole part where the arena happens so, you know, people die and it blows..."

She was babbling sleepily and she knew it, but she hoped he got her point!

"Don't worry!  You're not the only one who's ever felt that way, I'm sure.  Relax, Yasmin, we're friends.  No matter how much your talking might try to deter me from it," he muttered, chuckling a little.  There might have even been a quiet snort.

"It's nice.  To have friends, I mean.  I got your back, don't worry.  I hope you have mine too.  That's what friends do," he muttered, and closed his eyes.  "Now, go to sleep."

"Of course I've got your back," Yasmin said with a grin as she nestled deeper into the cot and let out another yawn. She shut her eyes, and it was only then that the exhaustion really hit her, and her voice began to fade.

"Someone's gotta save it from Jana."

"Ass," he grumbled to her as he promptly fell asleep.  The conversation had sent his mind at ease and sleep suddenly came very easy.  What would await them in the morning was anybody's guess.

What woke Yasmin minutes from dawn were the nightmares. They were a near nightly occurrence--and a reason she was glad she never shared a cell. They were also why her old master kept her housed at the Colosseum, rather than at his own massive home.

Because she tended to come out of them screaming.

Which was exactly what happened that morning, as what started out as restless tossing and turning ended in her snapping awake with a scream and bolting upright, scrambling backwards on the cot from some perceived threat as, for a moment, dreams blended with reality. But then she realized where she was, sitting on her cot, her back against the wall, and Agrian in the other one, and she dug her fingers into her arms until it hurt to ground herself, and took deep breaths while counting to calm down.

Agrian jerked awake when she screamed.  He blinked at Yasmin, staring at her wide-eyed when at last she grounded herself.  He got out of his cot and knelt beside her, putting a hand on her arm.  "Another one of your dreams?" he asked, eyes genuinely concerned. 

Yasmin jumped a little at his touch, but then calmed under it and exhaled slowly. She let out a shaky laugh, her heart still racing and face still pale. "Yeah, the usual bullshit," she said. "Can't really remember much, but I think I recall Jana's smothering breasts and puckering lips. Your fault."

She flashed another weak smile at him. That hadn't been what she'd dreamed at all, from the vague flashes in her memory, but she it was an attempt to diffuse the horror with humor.

Even Agrian wasn't buying that bull.  He wasn't smiling, not even in mild amusement.  "You know that's not true," he said, trying to stay gentle.  "I used to hear them all the way down the corridor into my cell.  I know something's wrong when I hear it.  What was it about?"

Yasmin's cheeks colored at that. "That loud, huh? Wow...that's...awkward," she said, and rubbed at her arm where she'd left small bruises. No wonder she got dirty looks in the morning, rousing the entire block, no doubt! Ughhh...

"Alright, you caught me. So it wasn't about Jana. It was about, uh..." More fidgeting. "Heh. It always sounds kinda silly when you say it out loud! For reals, though, it was about the arena. I was wading through the blood draining from the corpses around me. Eleven of them," she said, rubbing at the black tattoos on her fingers. She shuddered. "Then, er, they woke up and tried to kill me. As dead people do, I guess."

Agrian nodded and released his hand from her arm.  It didn't sound pleasant, and he supposed that kind of thing stayed with you.  He wasn't going to lie and say that he never felt anything of the kind when he first began fighting for sport.

"It's all right," he said, looking at her from the corner of his eyes.  "Did they try to eat you too?  You look rather squishy."

"I beg your pardon? Squishy?" Yasmin said, folding her arms over her chest and giving Agrian her best attempt at looking stern. "Are you calling me fat?"

"Yes," he said with raised brows and reached in to poke her stomach.  "Squishy."

"Well, I never!" Yasmin gasped, giving his hand a playful slap. "As if you can talk! I saw the way your thighs jiggled when we fought!"

"So is that an admission to checking out my thighs?" he said with a raised brow, snickering.

Reaching out, Yasmin gave his thigh a squeeze. "I can't help it, thunderthighs," she said, deadpan. "The jiggling, it's hypnotic. That's the real reason you beat me, you know. I didn't actually give up. You put me in a trance."

"Damn straight!  Look at that!  Muscle everywhere!  You don't get legs like that in a Prince's palace.  Jiggling your ass," Agrian  'pfft'ed and laughed.  He reached for her hand and pat it between his own.  "At least you put your nightmare behind you.  For now anyway."

Yasmin's deadpan expression broke, and she snorted a laugh. Oh, Agrian. He certainly knew how to cheer her up! Meeting him for the first time, all those years ago, she never would have pegged the fierce, mighty, intimidating brute as the sort of man she'd be able to have entire conversations about, well...

Jiggling thighs and sweat-based aphrodisiacs.

And she wouldn't have it any other way.

She smiled at him, far more calm and relaxed now, and put her free hand over his own. "Thank you," she said. "Seriously, that helped. A lot." She wasn't really very practiced at sincere thank yous, since she didn't get much opportunity to give them, but she hoped he realized it really did mean a lot.

"Now, what about you?" she said after a pause. "How're you holding up? Honestly?"

"Honestly, I'm...okay.  Just okay.  I'm sick of the waiting, frankly.  But I slept better than I had in years.  Now that I don't have a master - not currently anyway - I feel like a weight has been lifted off of me.  I wonder if we'll get to watch their heads coming off.  Yours got carted away too, didn't it?" Agrian asked, looking out to the small window above their heads, and wondering if it led out into the courtyard.

"He--it," Yasmin corrected with a wry smile, rather preferring the dehumanizing way Agrian had addressed her former master. It seemed fitting, after the dehumanizing way it had treated her for so much of her life. "It got carted off, but only yours is to be executed. Mine's getting tossed out into the desert."

She let out a snort. "Good riddance. The ponce won't last two hours before it's food for the vultures. No survival skills whatsoever, and lazy as a worm."

Following Agrian's gaze, she looked up at the window--and then gave a small jolt. "Oh! That's right! Yours was to be killed at dawn, right?" she asked, and rose to her feet with a small grunt. Her body felt sore and stiff. "It's almost dawn. Or is dawn. Hard to tell in this light. Do you wanna try and see out?" she asked, motioning to the window. "I could try and boost you."

"I'm strong like bull, remember?" Agrian said, gesturing to the window.  "I'll boost you up.  You can get a look and tell me what you see.  I know he was my master but in light of our friendship, I'll let you do the honors."

And just when he was about to boost her up, there was a banging on the cell door.  "You two.  Come with me."  The helmeted man opened it up, sword at the ready in cast.  Agrian turned to him and took his helmet from the bed, slipping it over his face.

"What's this for?" he asked.

"You are to accompany me to the courtyard," he answered simply, no emotion evident in his voice.

Yasmin's stomach clenched, a sick feeling churning deep within her. For all that hanging out in a cell wasn't ideal, strangely enough, for those hours she had managed to kind of forget about the outside world and what awaited them. Crazy as it was, she could have stayed in that place longer.

Were their heads going to roll with that of Agrian's master?

Feeling ill, Yasmin followed along with Agrian, sliding in close to him.

"Alright, thunderthighs," she said, squeezing him on the shoulder. A bit too hard, her anxiety pouring into her grip. She kept her voice low. "Serious question. When I die, what crude gesture should I die doing and how long does it take before rigor sets in? You know, so the pose really holds. I'm thinking something symbolic of the way I came into the world, and of how the world treated me after."

As she said it, she held up both hands, middle fingers up and aimed at the guard in front of them.

Agrian didn't answer.  He couldn't.  He just couldn't find any words to speak as they passed by the guard and he led them out through the dungeon tunnels.  Funny how things seemed bleaker right before one was about to die.  And the walk to the headsman's block was very different than walking into the Arena.  At least in the arena you had a chance, some possibility of survival..

This...their fate was sealed.

Or was it?

"You are to be seated in the guardsman's rows, just below," the guard said as he led them out into the bright sunlight of the courtyard.  "To get a decent view.  I hear it's going to be a good one."

As the Arena began to fill, and the murmur of the crowd washed through the air like the call of waves, it appeared the Shah was no where to be found- her tented area and plush seatings vacant. But it wasn't quite time for the execution, though, by the growing restlessness of the crowd, it was getting close.

Agrian's silence only heightened the fear clawing within her, and Yasmin's heart beat faster. He was supposed to say something like, "don't be so grim, Yasmin!" or...or...something! He wasn't supposed to validate her here! He was supposed to play along! It was easier to be brave when you made a big joke of everything.

Her mouth went dry as they stepped out into the light, and for a moment she was blinded by it. But when her eyes adjusted, the headsman's block loomed straight ahead before her, and she suddenly found it hard to breathe--because she was breathing too fast, short, quick breaths that didn't fill her lungs enough to get the proper amount of oxygen.

This was it. They were dead. Oh Hakeshna. Had they at least sharpened the axe? She heard it sometimes took several swings--the spine was tricky, and--fuuuuck. Her hand trembled on Agrian's shoulder, and she started to feel light-headed--probably didn't help she hadn't eaten for over twenty-four hours!--and that was when the guard said something strange.

Yasmin blinked.

"To...to...get a decent view?" she repeated slowly, walking woodenly to the guardsman's seats. She plopped down onto the bench as though her limbs had stopped working. She rubbed at her neck. "Are we, uh, are we being executed or...?"

"Executed!?"  The guardsman gave Yasmin an odd look.  "If that was the case, I hardly think the great Shah would waste the spectacle on a bunch of slaves.  I was instructed to lead you to the seating.  What happens next, I cannot say."

Agrian said nothing to Yasmin still.  He bowed his head to the guard, though didn't thank him and grabbed Yasmin by the hand, pulling her into the trenches where benches had been placed to allow for seating and he stepped up onto one of the higher seats rather than planting his ass on it, to get the best view he possibly could.

"We could still be executed. Best to not make a scene," he said to Yasmin at last.  But his expression wasn't a comforting one and nor was it meant to be.  "This is going to be something to remember."

It was a miracle Yasmin's legs worked well enough that she didn't trip and fall on her face! As Agrian took her by the hand and lead her further up, she rose and followed, surprised at how steady her legs were. Because she had felt about ready to piss herself back there--that, and she had started to seriously consider making a scene, to calculate the likelihood of taking out a guard or two as they dragged her to the block.

Stepping up beside Agrian, she put a hand on his shoulder to hold herself steady.

"I'll be a perfect gentlewoman," she breathed, still in shock. "Why, I even solemnly swear that if we get out of this with our heads still attached, I'll start saying my noontime prayers. I'd been skimping. This might give me a reason not to."

Agrian looked at Yasmin grimly, wishing he could smile at her joking attitude.  But something in the moment robbed him of that sentimentality.  He looked out across the courtyard, still unable to speak, holding his breath as if believing that at any moment, that might be him heading towards the headsman's block.

That's when he saw him.  The little fat man, stumbling, being dragged along with great protest.

"They're really gonna do it," Yasmin said in a near whisper, still unable to believe what she was seeing as Agrian's former master was dragged to the block. This was actually happening. The Shah was truly serious. This man, this slave-holder, this citizen was being executed for their crimes.

And the headsman stood ready for him, his face covered save for his grim-looking eyes. In his hand was a great axe, the blade gleaming in the light. It looked very, very sharp, and Yasmin wondered how many swings he'd need to get it through that horrible man's thick neck.

Even as she thought that, she brought her hand to her own neck and swallowed as she rubbed it, reminded of Agrian's words. They weren't safe yet.

This might just be the warm up.

She lightly nudged Agrian, bothered by his silence. Making light of grim, impossible situations was how she coped, and he was just making her more anxious. "What are you thinking?" she asked as the guards plopped the man before the block, forcing him to kneel.

Agrian winced, he didn't mean to, but he did.  When he saw the little fat man falling to his knees, Agrian winced and he blinked in silence as he watched him cry out in pain.  Maybe he hated the poor bastard; he wasn't the best master.  He only wanted Agrian because he could fight well and he made good coin betting on him in the Arena.  But he didn't see his former master for a few seconds.  He just saw a man, facing the end of his life, and the desperation that came therein.

He almost felt sorry for him.  In fact, the feeling was stronger than he originally thought it would be, and he simply stared at him as a priestess came to give him his last rights before the ax would be raised.

And without realizing it, Agrian had reached for Yasmin's hand and gripped it hard, his palm sweaty, his eyes glossed over.

A hand found hers, gripping it tightly, and Yasmin sucked in a startled breath before a quick glance down confirmed it was only Agrian. Agrian? She lifted her eyes from their hands to his face, and her stomach twisted.

She wished she saw hate in his eyes. She wished she saw the same disgust she felt, the same anger, the same hatred, but instead she saw...sympathy? Pity?Why? The man was a monster. These slave owners didn't care about them. They used them like objects and cast them away like old toys--and worse, so much worse, though Yasmin had been lucky. The bastard deserved this! Agrian should be happy, relieved, celebrating this moment, even! The tables had been turned, the roles reversed. Shouldn't he be savoring the sweetness?

It surprised her for a moment, taking her off guard, and Yasmin drew her eyes away and looked back to the sobbing, crumpled man before them as the seconds ticked down for him with every word the priestess spoke. And in that moment came a startling, terrifying sense of clarity as she looked, really looked, trying to see what Agrian saw--and in doing so saw the human behind the monster: just a man, frightened out of his wits, moments away from losing everything. Just a man experiencing the same terror she felt every time she entered the arena. The same terror she'd felt upon seeing the block he was now leaning over.

Yasmin started to feel sick.

She had long ago promised to remember every life she took, to never forget their faces, to always remember their humanity, to never view the people she fought as the animals their masters wanted them to. She wore the memories in her flesh, inked into her skin like blood on her hands, stains that would never come out. She never wanted to become like the people that enslaved them.

Had she been losing sight of that here?

No different from a spectator in the arena, thinking bloodthirsty thoughts as she waited for his head to roll...

She squeezed Agrian's hand back, tightly, and didn't let go. Her own hand trembled a little, and this time, as the priestess drew her words to a close and the headsman lifted his axe, she let the silence stretch.

The man trembled, whimpering, terrified, likely sweating in the hot sack on his head.  One moment, his shoulders were shaking, the next, they were still.  There was a thump, a roll, then a loud slump as the body went limp against the headsman's block.  Agrian was still, staring at the headless body and realizing only then that a tear fell down his cheek.

He turned to Yasmin and said nothing for a time.  He wiped his eyes through the slits in his helmet, shaking his head and trying to remember the inhumanity with which his master always treated him.  He was an animal, and saw Agrian as less than that...  But...he was still a man, no less a man than he.

"Hakeshna have mercy on him," Agrian said as he looked to Yasmin.  "Thank you.."

Yasmin looked up at Agrian as he turned to her, and...was he...was he crying? Was that why he was rubbing his eyes? She didn't ask, nor comment either way, and felt yet again that little prickle of shame when she realized her own eyes were dry. Hakeshna, this was fucked up, fucked up that she no longer even knew when she should cry and when she shouldn't, didn't know who she should cry for.

But tears or no tears, no matter who that man had been, seeing that had been hard. She saw plenty of death, as Agrian did, but it was different when people had a fighting chance, wasn't it? Even though, sometimes, those "fighting chances" were just as hopeless.

Yasmin gave his hand another squeeze in response to his thanks. "You holding up okay?"

"I will be fine," Agrian said, pulling himself together.  He shook his head, not sure what exactly came over him.  It passed soon, however, and he looked out across the courtyard as the man's head was plucked form the basket and placed onto a pike.  Agrian held his breath as he watched his body thrown into a cart, likely off to be fed to lions or some other hungry beast.

But then his eyes looked out to the Shah, viewing her in all her regalia and that all of his sorrow, immediately vanished.  "Look at her," he said, a husky growl coming from his throat.  "Looks like she has something to say about the spectacle.  Not every day a lowly slave gets to hear the word to 'Hakeshna' herself through her Glorious Vessel...  What bullshit."

"Oh, jubilation," Yasmin said with a roll of her eyes, not sounding the least bit enthused. She looked where Agrian was looking.

"She's just a person," she said with a firm nod, as though trying to convince herself. Which she was. She had grown up in Essyrn, raised under the belief, all her life, that the Shah was Hakeshna's avatar. It was hard to shake off that indoctrination, and no matter how cynical she'd grown, that still lingered in her mind, the what if?? factor.

"We saw that last night. She's just a scared little girl, no different from us. Well." She looked sidelong at Agrian with a crooked smile and pat his hand between her own. "Noooot to say you're a scared little girl. I guess we should feel pretty honored, anyway. Us lowly slaves even got a personal visit, and now we've practically got private seats and a great view of the gore. I'm feeling pretty special!"

OOC: So like my last post here totally said arena but just nix that and presume I meant the um- courtyard? 8D
---------

It did, in fact, appear as if the Shah was to speak, in fact, it looked like something to be expected as the crowd and condemned man all turned to her. But instead of saying a word, the Shah simply rose and gave the signal for them to cut.

"Or maybe she won't say anything at all..." Yasmin said slowly, as silence followed, making her feel uneasy.

With all of those accused, now dead, the Shah made her way away from the fray of chaos and whispered just one single command to her guards, "Take the slaves back to their prison. We can handle their fate tomorrow morning."And with that, she disappeared back into her grand palace, while men were quick to approach to give the orders for Agrian and Yasmin to be brought back inside.

With a kick and shove, the guard commanded them gruffly, "ALright, not anything else to see here. The Shah wants you back inside, slaves!"

In the end of it all, their fate remained unchanged.  The man had been executed as an example to all the others, to keep order of their slaves.  And what of them?  Time only would tell.

Agrian resumed his place in the cell, laying down on the hard cot, staring up at the ceiling and trying to make sense of it all.  It wasn't easy, and the silence was perhaps the sharpest knife of all.

Back in the cell, Yasmin flopped onto her own cot.

"Out of the frying pan and into the fire," she said with a sigh, and rubbed a fresh bruise on her hip where one of the guards had kicked her while she'd been sitting. Jeez. They'd been so much gentler escorting them to the place than escorting them back!

"I think the anticipation is the worst part. I'm not sure I can take another day and night of this!"

"You'd better!" Agrian said suddenly, half-growled really.  But he cleared his throat and rubbed the sweat from his forehead.  "I mean, if you start going nuts, who the hell can I rely on?  Shit, Yasmin.  You've got to keep it together.  We both do.  If we die, or if we're sold off, then at least we faced it like ....like...   Shit, I don't even have words for that."

Sitting up at his words, Yasmin flashed Agrian a small, but genuine, smile. She tried to hide its warmth behind some false cockiness or smugness, but the effort failed--because she was legitimately...kind of touched.

Which was an awkward, vulnerable sort of emotion for her.

"Awww, Agrian," she said, pressing a hand to her heart. "Are you telling me you need me?"

"Aw, shut it," he mumbled and sighed.  "I'm just as rankled as you are.  At least I smell better.  You smell like pits."

"Tch! As if."

Rising up, Yasmin walked over and plopped onto his cot with him, then leaned over him and gave him a big, loud sniff. "Mmm, upon further assessment, yes! You're absolutely right! Why, you smell divine! Such sweet, sweet ambrosia that's getting my knickers all askew, that delicious Essence of Agrian." She didn't even know what knickers were, but she'd heard a foreigner use the phrase and hoped she was using it right!

"Nothing better than the scent of sour milk and camel sweat. Mm, mm, mmm!"

Persea had been troubled over this whole event for the majority of the day. In fact, she was so distraught over it she grew ill and took refuge into her room for hours. But tossing and turning and nearly vomiting more did little to ease her suffering, and with an exasperated sigh, she tossed off her blanket and rose to her feet.

WHen her guards asked where she was going she simply waved them off. What drew her towards the prisoners again was beyond her, and as she neared the deep steps that lead to their cells she had to fight off the urge to vomit. But swallowing it all day, she continued to make her way down the steps but paused at the sound of voices.

Was that laughter?
She paused and strained her ears for more, being certain to keep out of sight.

Agrian gave a snort and raised his arm, turning to her.  He shoved his armpit right into her face.  "You like it so much, why don't you have some!" he hissed and resisted laughing out loud.  "It'll make you all hot and bothered."

"WAH!" Yasmin let out a rather high-pitched, rather un-gladiator-like squeal when he shoved his sweaty armpit in her face! She jerked away so fast she fell over onto her side, propped up on an elbow, and held her nose with her free hand while making a sour face.

"I think I do feel a swoon coming on!"

"Just don't hurl all over my cot," Agrian said with a snort, grinning down at her.  He took the small rolled pillow and hurled it at her face.  "Besides, at least I don't smell like liver and onions!  Bleh!"

"Oof!" The pillow smacked her, and with a laugh Yasmin grabbed it, sat up, and started to wail on him with it, smacking at his shoulders. "You saying I smell like liver and onions? Huh? Huh? I'll have you know I smell like a gosh-darned lady!"

Upon hearing the conversation turn into.. well, what it turned into, made her release a giggle. But that was promptly hushed by her hand suddenly covering her mouth. And of course her laughter echoed through the dark. At least the prisoners couldn't see her-
But why did she care? And why did she find herself down here again?

Agrian was laughing until he heard the sound of a giggle, and he immediately grew alert.  He took the pillow from Yasmin, stopping her for a second.  "Someone's listening," he whispered lightly to her.  "Lady?  If you call fonk, how a lady smells," he said aloud, but did not laugh.  Instead he was listening for sound down the hall.

Yasmin's eyes widened and she froze, straining to listen for a moment, before she caught on to Agrian's game and pitched her voice a little louder.

"O-ho! Well! You need to have your nose checked then, good sir, because I smell like peaches!"

Her voice came out stilted and obviously forced, and she gave Agrian an apologetic look and a small shrug. She never claimed to be an actress.

And Persea couldn't tell the difference. The peaches comment made her giggle again, and it was hard to muffle that through her hands. But it had gained someone else's attention when a guard called out, "Halt- Who goes there!?"
And Persea froze. And the moment the guard saw her...

"Your grace!" And he dropped to one knee. "Forgive me. I did not know you were here."

Agrian's hand immediately came over Yasmin's mouth.  And silence followed as he heard the guard reveal who their eavesdropper was.  "The bitch never quits does she," he muttered to himself.

Yasmin hushed, going still when Agrian covered her mouth. The Shah?! The Shah was listening in on them just now?! Gently prying Agrian's hand away, she gave him a startled look. "What does she want?"

Not that he would know...

Agrian approached the bars  and looked out into the dim torch-light of the prison corridor.  He wanted to call out, but would rather wait and see.

"She still there?" Yasmin asked in a whisper, though she had the feeling that their sudden whispering and silence was probably way more obvious that they knew the Shah was there than their loud talking. When a loud group of people suddenly went dead quiet, you just knew they were up to something.

It took a while for their questions to be answered, Persea's voice coming out only seconds after Yasmin's last question.

"That is because I did not wish to be disturbed," she replied coolly, or as coolly as she could. She still feared the trembling in her voice would be evident, but she kept her chin up high and hte guard simply saluted her.

"You may return to your post."
And with that, the guard obliged, hesitating and wanting to tell the Shah to remain careful but...
He said nothing, and once again, there was silence.

"I guess she is," Agrian replied, still looking out toward the corridor, to see if the Shah would appear.  Then he said aloud.  "We have had a long day, my friend.  We should get some rest.  The Shah was very generous to allow us to watch it at all.  We should count our good fortune."

Yasmin looked at Agrian with a small smirk, catching what he was doing--and she decided to play along.

...In a way that, hopefully, discouraged the Shah from creeping on them!

Cupping her hand near her mouth, she said, "Who said anything about resting? Come now, Agrian. Come to my bed! My body burns for your touch! Take me, you mighty stallion, and spear me with your shaft. Let's make the most of this night, for it may be our last!"

Agrian made a "what the fuck?" face at her and had to cup a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing.  "Indeed.  I-I...I didn't know how long I could keep my passions concealed!  In the heat of blood and death, and the need to survive, I was always drawn to you.   Oh.....Your breasts....they're as beautiful as I always thought they would be!"

He shrugged to Yasmin, and peered down the hall again.  But it was the guard he saw, face pissed as he launched his whip and rattled it against the bars.  "Shut up down there!" he growled.

Agrian continued to imitate loud moaning sounds and heavy grunts, despite the threat.

"OOOH! AGRIAN!" Yasmin howled over the guard's threat, as she backed away from the bars to avoid him. "Yes! Take me like an animal, you beast! Fill me with your passion! Ram me with your ROD! Oh! Yes! Harder! HARDER! Coat me with your virulent sweat!"

She paused, shot Agrian a smirk, and shrugged. Alright. She hadn't quite meant to use virulent, but she got a little carried away! Hopefully they were dumb and thought it meant virile!

Agrian just grunted louder like an animal.  He scowled as he watched the shadow of the guard approaching them in hurried anger.  He smacked the whip against the bars, Agrian stepping back just in time.  "No fornicating in the cell!"

He stopped when he approached and when he saw they were doing nothing, he blanched.  But his face was more than pissed!  "Stupid slaves!  Think you can make a fool of me?" he growled, holding the whip in one hand and unlocking the cell with the other.  He yanked it ajar and slammed the whip down at Agrian.

He was defenseless against the assault and staggered backwards against the whip, holding his arms up to protect his head.

...Well, shit.

That backfired.

Bastardly guards couldn't take a joke! And Yasmin stared in horror when one entered the cell and scored Agrian with his whip before she could do little more than register the danger.

Shiiiit!

The guard struck Agrian again, and again--but when he raised the whip that final time, Yasmin threw herself between them and took the blow instead, crying out as it opened up a red gash along her back.

"Stop! Stop it! It's my fault!" she yelled as she grabbed onto Agrian. "It was my idea! It was just a joke!"

And guilt flooded her, biting sharper than the pain, because Agrian had saved her life--and she wasn't about to let him be punished because of her stupid antagonism.

Agrian turned blindly when Yasmin suddenly lunged herself between them.  What a stupid girl!  He howled when the whip cracked against her skin.  The gaurd's arm was tireless, relentless as it beat against her, cracking against cloth and flesh.  He turned his arms around her, pushing her away and lunging at the guard.

"Stay back!  Damn you!" the guard yelled.  Agrian grabbed the whip and and drove him back against the wall, but the guard was equally strong, and soon his hands were around Agrian's neck.

Shit! Shit! Shit!

Yasmin panicked, panicked worse than when she'd been hit by the whip, and as the two grappled together, she didn't know what to do. She'd leaped before Agrian to take the blows because she hadn't wanted to attack the guard. They were already up shit creek, so attacking a guard? That seemed like a surefire death sentence! Why couldn't he just let her suffer her stupidity?! The lashes would end eventually, but now they might die.

But when the guard started to strangle Agrian, that decided it.

It was all or nothing. They were already fucked. May as well fully commit.

She threw herself on the guard's back and wrenched him into a choke hold, squeezing hard enough to impede his breathing but not cut him off completely. "Let him go!"

The act loosened his grip and Agrin gasped for breath.  He sucked in air harshly as the guard struggled with Yasmin.  But it wasn't long before more guards came rushing down the hallway.  "What the hell is going on here?" came the call from what clearly must've been the captain.

"Both of you now!  Back in order!" The Captain said and two of his mean went in to peel Yasmin off the guard's back.  Agrian stayed in the corner of the cell and moved forward only to yank Yasmin toward him. 

He stared at all the guards defiantly, as if daring them to kill him now.  He moved forward as if to strike the first guard, but stopped short as the captain bellowed out.  "Stop there slave.  We keep the order around here!  We will sort this out."

Yasmin clung to the guard like a wild thing, but there were more of them than there were of her, and they weren't injured, either. They managed to wrench her off the man, and she struggled still until Agrian yanked her over with him, and only then did she start to calm down.

She was trembling from sheer adrenaline, and though she knew she was bleeding, as she could feel it trickling down her back, she didn't know how major or minor the injury was. She could feel its stinging, and feel the throb of the injury she'd received in the Colosseum, but the pain hadn't hit her fully yet as her body thrummed with energy.

She grabbed onto Agrian's arm, pulling him back. "Are you okay? Fuck, I'm sorry, I didn't--I didn't know it'd go so far."

Their plan had been enough to fool the Shah, for as naive as she was, she didn't quite pick up on the obvious falseness of their act. But then again,s he was a virgin, and as any female Shah had to be, would remain that way until she chose a husband- and her only husband, for life. But just as she was about to depart, her face completely white, then crimson, she froze stock still as she heard the entire encounter go on. The whipping, the yelling and the revelation...

It was an act?

At each thing she flinched over, and it only cemented her feet to the ground. And for the moment, though it seemed s if the guards had order, she wasn't entirely sure what she was doing anymore as the world around her seemed to whirl.

Agrian was stony in his silence and kept an almost protective grip on Yasmin's arm.  True, she could fight well enough on her own.  He'd taught her well after all, but here in the Sha's Palace, he knew this was not the same life and death struggles of the Colosseum.  Here the chance for death was greater, and he'd rather see to it that at least one of them went on to wake with tomorrow.

"You!" the Captain growled.  "What happened!?"

"These two were making trouble!" the first guard growled, trying to massage his throat after Yasmin choked him out.  "I set them straight and then they went crazy!  Execute them!  For attacking the Shah's guard!"

The Captain just scowled at the man, taking what he said with a giant grain of salt.  "And you slave?  What do you have to say for yourself?" he asked.

Agrian instinctively squeezed Yasmin's arm, as if to tell her to hold her tongue.  And he stepped forward.  "We were sharing an intimate moment," he said with a deferent lowering of his eyes.  But when he looked at the Captain, the man seemed taken aback.  "He started to beat us.  Without cause."

"You seriously want me to believe you did nothing to instigate this?" the Captain growled and his hand gripped hard on the blade on his belt.  But Agrian's expression never faltered.

"We were sharing an intimate moment.  Life in the Arena can be hard.  You tend to keep close the companions you've made," he said, answering honestly.  "We sought to protect each other.  We instigated nothing."

The first guard spat at Agrian, and the gladiator stepped back, wiping his face.  "Don't tell me you believe such utter kaadir shit!  An attack on the Shah's Guard is the same as an attack on the Shah herself!  I saw you, you scum muckers!  You're lucky a whip was all you got!"

"ENOUGH!" the Captain bellowed.  He cut his eyes to the slaves then to the guard and snatched the man by the neck.  "I know my orders, and you would do well to remember yours.  They may be slaves, but they came here as guests within the Shah's palace.  Did she directly order them to be whipped?" he hissed.  His grip made the other man buckle his knees.  Pain was evident in his features.

"N-no, sir!  She was -"

"Then under what pretense did you have to abuse guests of the Shah's palace!?"

"N-none, sir!"

The grip hardened, and the first guard choked.  "Then you knowingly attacked guests of the Shah and shall therefore pay the price!  Take him down to my office!  I will deal with him personally."  He released the man and he choked, coughing hard, as the other guards in the entourage carried him off, taking off his helmet, and his weapons.  He said not another word to the pair as he slammed the cell door with a bang and locked it.  He glared at Agrian and Yasmin for a burning second and departed.

Though he said nothing, the message was clear enough to Agrian.  Another sound from the cell and they would both hang, without another warning.

Wisely, Yasmin kept silent and let Agrian do the talking.

He was better at that, and she knew anything she said would come out terribly. She definitely didn't have his gift for words and diplomacy!

As soon as the guards were out the door, the fight drained from Yasmin and she slumped bonelessly to her cot even as her heart still pounded away in her chest. That had gone...significantly better than she'd expected. Guests? They were guests of the Shah? What even...?

None of this made any sense to her. Not that she was complaining! It had kept them alive when they should have been dead yesterday.

Running her fingers through her cropped hair, she sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Just. Stuff a gag in me and don't let me open my mouth the rest of our time here," she said, and winced. Now that the heat of the moment had passed, her body was starting to register the stinging pain in her back, and the hot trickle of blood wetting her torn clothes. But she grit her teeth and didn't complain, because she'd kind of brought that on herself.

"I'm sorry, Agrian. I...you're not hurt too bad, are you?"

The whole notion gnawed at him the wrong way.  Guests of the Shah!  He could spit!  To think that a cell and a cage and being pushed around by guards was anyway to treat a guest.  No, you must show them every hospitality, courtesy and need.  When he was still a Prince, he knew how to treat a guest....  When he was still a Prince, he knew that even the little things went a long way.  When he...

But that life was no more.  He was now the Shah's guest, and allowing them to live was the extent of her courtesy.

It was then that he remembered that they had both been severely wounded and Agrian's back and arms stung with the remnant fury of the whip.  "I'm cut open, and so are you.  I'm sure we can both assume the Shah doesn't want blood all over her own holding cell.  We wouldn't want to take advantage of her hospitality," he said, his tone no less biting.

Persea had wished to leave, to rid herself of what she was hearing, which was no less repulsive than if she would have seen it with her own eyes. But her legs felt useless, cementing her in place, and when things quieted and the slaves went back to their more civil speak, she had no idea how to react to that, to what they were speaking, and how.

It made a cold, sick tightness grip her belly, and her mood gravely went from fearful, to soured.
How dare they make such talk against her! Against she who saved their lives over their masters! No wonder there was chaos in the arena, perhaps the masters were not to blame...
Such insolent slaves should have been executed at the beginning, or sold off to other lands for those lesser to deal with them.

Agrian had no more words to spare.   The night had drawn in and the day had been trying and only tomorrow would bring news of their fate.  Were they to be executed?  Thrown to the wild cats on the Shah's property?  Only time would tell.  For now they surivived,  and Agrian quietly tended to Yasmin's wounds.

"Sorry," was the only word that passed his lips, and it came out no higher than a whisper.

"Why are you sorry?" Yasmin whispered back with a frown, flinching away from him when he started to tend her injuries. She lightly swatted his hands away and turned to face him, not wanting him to fuss over something she'd brought onto herself.

"You saved my life, thunder thighs, and kept me alive. And I've just gone and gotten you beat up all the more for it. Now turn around and lemme fix you," she said, grabbing up what passed for a tattered blanket.

"I don't give a shit about the Shah's prison rags. You're worse off than me and we've gotta stop the bleeding somehow. If she didn't want blood on her cots, she shouldn't have put cots in here at all."

Agrian stared at her blankly, looking at her like a dumb log.  He wanted to laugh, even to grin, but something about the whole situation made him feel empty inside, like this was all his fault even if it had been Yasmin's choice to throw herself into the fray.

He said nothing as she tended to his wounds, the lacerations from the whip proving deeper than he thought and he visibly winced when the cloth touched them.

"Do you trust me?" he found himself asking.  "If you do, why do you trust me?"

Yasmin tried to be gentle, but it was difficult. His wounds were bad, and it couldn't help that the blanket wasn't exactly clean. But it was cleaner than the clothes either of them wore, and it was their only other option. It was either that or let him bleed freely and suffer the effects of blood loss.

"Hold still. This'll hurt," she warned, before she carefully pressed the blanket to the worst of his wounds and put gradual pressure on it. It wouldn't feel pleasant, but it was necessary.

What they really needed was a needle and thread, Yasmin found herself thinking, but she was snapped from that thought by Agrian's sudden question.

She smiled lightly, a slightly crooked, wry one, and gave a small shrug--which she regretted, because it pulled at her wounds and made her gasp.

"Of course I trust you, Agrian," she said, without hesitation. "Why wouldn't I? You saved my life. Not just the other day, but way back. All the years I've been here. I would've died my first day in the arena if you hadn't pulled me aside and told me what to do. I would've died a hundred times over if you didn't keep helping me. And just the other day, you could have killed me--but you didn't. You asked me to trust you then, and I did, and I still do now."

She let out a small laugh. "It's not easy," she added, which she was sure he could imagine, considering how she'd fought against trusting him when he told her to lose. "It's hard just...I dunno. I guess it's just hard being vulnerable like that. Showing your soft, squishy parts and hoping you don't get a spear through them, figuratively and literally speaking. But I was serious when I said you're my friend, you know."

"Your friend?  A friend," Agrian mimicked her like one of those exotic birds his father liked to keep in his bird habitat.  They were well taken care of, unlike most of his slaves.  To think an animal had more value than a being of the same flesh and blood as you.

But they didn't see it that way.  To them,you were created by the gods to serve, and serve you will or suffer the consequences of disobedience.  Agrian shook his head of such thoughts. 

"I remember back then," he said with a laugh, trying to lighten his own blackened mood.  "You were so scrawny!  I thought just holding a sword was going to break your arm.  Now you've bulked up since then, good for you.  Strong like bull."

Persea had listened in to too much of their conversation, for she went from anger, to jealousy, even sympathy. Friends? Trust? Part of her had to wonder what that meant to these slaves, and what did it mean to her? But she left it at tthat, only the sounds of her foot.steps echoing softly indicated she had left.

"Moooo!" Yasmin said with a quiet laugh, and slowly peeled the cloth from his back so she could find a dry spot and press it back down again. Oof. That looked so bad. It made her own stinging gashes ache all the more, but she hadn't been struck as many times as Agrian had.

"I was a little twerp back then. What can I say? I'd lived a soft life. Just turned eighteen when I got tossed in. Happy birthday to me, eh?" She pressed a little harder, and was relieved when she noticed Agrian's blood wasn't soaking through as much as it had been before.

"Say, what made you do it, anyway?" she asked suddenly, leaning to the side to get a look at his face. "Help me, I mean. Was I just that pitiful?"

"Yes.  I had to rescue the poor little gladiator from becoming tiger bait and watching you stumble around the arena, admittedly, was kind've funny.  You looked like a chicken trying to run for cover," he said with a snicker.

The cleaning up stung much less now and when he felt his wounds were dry enough, Agrian looked at her from over his shoulder.  He gestured for her to let him have a turn tending to her back.

"Actually, I think back then, I just wanted to help somebody survive.  Maybe I had something to prove...that we could learn to fight, to survive.  Or maybe I just wanted to see if you had any brains.  I'm still waiting."  And with that he stuck his tongue out at her.

With a laugh, Yasmin roughly ruffled his hair. "Says the one with moss growing out his ears, you ass!" she said, but there was affection in the insult, and in her grin. Handing the blanket over to Agrian, she turned her back to him so he could get at her wounds, clasping her hands on her knees as she braced for what she knew would be unpleasant.

"Well, brains or no brains, I'm still here, so you must have done something right, eh? Or all my opponents were just dumb. Still, uh...I never really did thank you for that. I guess being stuck here in this stupid cell together's just a good time for reflection and sappiness, huh? Uh. Anyway. Thanks. Seriously. I know I never really showed my appreciation--always too distracted by living--but...I always felt it. And always admired the stuffing out of you. You were like my idol back then."

She cleared her throat awkwardly. "I'd say you still are, but ever since I got that first whiff of your pits, well...that dropped you down from god status juuust a scooch."

And there she went again, cushioning sincerity with humor as she always did when she got too awkward.

"Well, you could always show your appreciation by polishing my spear."  He snickered suddenly and tried to use it as a distraction when he saw the large gash that had been dutifully splayed out across her back.  He winced from behind her, but didn't say anything regarding it.  Both of them had taken a beating, it didn't need commentary.

He snorted aloud and raised a hand up.  "Just kidding!" he was quick to add.  "I can polish my own spear well enough.  The real ones you know, not my love spear.  Oh goddess, this is escalating really badly, so I'm just going to stop talking about spears."

And he couldn't only hold his laughter for so long before he suddenly burst out in a great guffaw.

"...I'll polish your sheathe if you want," he snorted again, unable to help himself with the sex jokes.  "I'm glad to see, however, that my efforts weren't wasted.  You're a good fighter, Yasmin, don't even let your humor sell yourself short.  I've seen good fighters in my day, some of them more privileged than they deserved.  And it isn't where you come from that makes the fighter, it's what you do with what you already have, and learning to adapt when needed.  You do all right...for a bumpkin."

"Excuuuse me? Bumpkin?" Yasmin asked with an incredulous laugh, her shoulders twitching in pain as Agrian tended to her back.

"Says the man that calls his penis his love spear! Seriously, I'm still stuck on that, I just--did you name it, Agrian? I heard men do that, did you? Pfffft, anyway, I don't think we should be doing any polishing of any sort here 'cause if our fake out made the guards pissy, I think they'd have our heads over the real deal! Both of your heads, probably, and my one. Unless they decided to watch. Maybe that's why he got so livid, he wanted a piece of the action and we didn't deliver, the pervy voyeur."

Yasmin realized, abruptly, that she was rambling, because her face had heated more than a little when he'd mentioned polishing her, the bastard, not to mention she never quite knew how to accept praise--especially from someone she looked up to so much. How messed up was it that she found criticism and insults easier to swallow but genuine compliments made her inwardly flail? Thank Hakeshna her back was to him. She valiantly pushed onward!

"Whoo, total derail aside--sorry, I just, love spear! Uh, but seriously, thanks." She squirmed a little more, scratching the side of her cheek. "I only hope to live long enough to be half as good a fighter as you are!"

Awkward conversations indeed.  But something about it all made him feel, what was that word?, ah, normal!  And he hadn't felt like that in a long time.  In the end, it was a feeling he knew he would be thankful for.  There was something about Yasmin's demeanor that kept him grounded, reminded him there was still more to life than killing, than surviving, and he didn't know what he'd been doing he met her.

He just smiled, mending her back, letting the blood collect along the ripped up piece of blanket.  They were moth-eaten anyway. 

"No, I don't name my body parts," he said, to clarify.  He laughed anyway and shook his head.  "You're a real smart ass you know that?  You just want to find out all the gossip about your gladiator hero, so you can spread it around to all the other fresh bloods and make a little Agrian fan club."

He snickered and snorted again – that was getting to become a bad habit of his!.  "Ah, there we go, all fixed up.  For now anyway.  Soon as we get out of here, we'll have to take you to a real healer.  Not the kind in the Arena.  Kavena just likes to cut people open."

"Make an Agrian fan club? That implies I already haven't," Yasmin said with a teasing smirk, and rolled her shoulders gingerly when he finished up. Ergh. That smarted, the skin along her shoulder blades and back pulling at her wounds. It was going to be especially awful tomorrow, because things always felt worse the next day. Fantastic. And here she thought the wound Agrian had given him would be it until she returned to the arena!

If she returned to the arena alive...

It was an effort not to touch the wounds to see how bad they were. She had a bad habit of worrying and poking at her injuries, and she had to fold her hands to keep from doing just that. "Kavena's a creep, anyway. I heard she keeps the dead bodies of fallen gladiators stored somewhere and does like...experiments on them. Cuts them up and plays with their insides."

It was kind've a painful irony that there even was a healer for the Arena.  She was a sunken-eyed old bat with what seemed little more than three teeth, all of which were rotten, and long gnarled fingers twisted with arthritis, and an unnerving thirst for blood.  Agrian had only seen Kevena once and that was after his first fight, suffering a broken arm, and was cut up pretty bad.  She had set the arm, but only after several agonizing attempts.  He'd seen that look in her eye, that gleam of amusement, the hag.

"If she does, I hope it's so she can learn to do a better job at fixing the live ones," Agrian said and gently moved toward the cot nearest him.  He was dead tired, after all the trouble of the day.  In fact he wouldn't mind if he didn't wake up at all the next day.  As long as Yasmin made it out alive that was.

"Hey, you better get some sleep while there's still light to be had.  We'll be going back to the auction block tomorrow probably, if we don't get the headsman's one first.  Either way you'll want to look your best."

Look her best? Yasmin cracked a lopsided grin at that and, gingerly, stretched out onto her cot, laying on her belly. Of course, it was nearly impossible to get comfortable, with her back aching, her side throbbing, and her torn clothes damp and sticky with blood.

"What? You trying to say I don't look drop-dead gorgeous right now? I'm insulted," she said, resting her cheek on her folded arms. "I'll be sure to paint my lips with blood and pinch my cheeks rosy tomorrow. There might be some dirt laying around I could use in place of kohl, too..."

[And this thread will probably be coming to a close very soon.]

Agrian lay turned with his back to her in his cot.  "Oh I'll be sure to write you a heartfelt letter of apology and praising your beautiful body and shapely breasts when we get out of here.  You got my back, I got your back, right?  Which means you'll owe me one too," he said, growing sleepy and closing his eyes at last.  Tomorrow could not come fast enough!

"Owe you? Bah, I'm fairly certain you did your math wrong there, thunderthighs..." Yasmin murmured, and was surprised at how exhausted she was now that she'd actually laid her head down. An emotionally taxing day that ended with getting flogged was draining? Who knew! It may have been impossible to get comfortable, but there came a point where one's body didn't care one hoot about that, and Yasmin had reached that point.

And before she knew it, she had drifted off, tumbling into the deep, blessedly dreamless sleep of sheer exhaustion.

[Fin? =O]