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Darkseeker
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No touchy touchy if your name ain't Fawn or Ylva. You may follow along though! |
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Darkseeker
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Helios Zervos Male | 23
Sexuality:
Straight Ethnicity: Greek Appearance:
Helios stands at 6ft 4in. He is very muscular with a defined body, due to fighting and training in the gladiator arena. His skin is on the tanner side. His facial features are sharp and defined. Has high cheek bones and a sharp jawline. Paired with plump pink lips for a male. His eyebrows are thick and seem slightly unkempt. His hair is jet black. Its basically a curly mess on top of his head, falling into his eyes. He has striking amber eyes, with orange hues.
Personality:
In rp |
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Lightbringer
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Name: Miren of Silvius Nickname: Wren Age: 22 years Gender: Female Appearance: Standing at almost exactly five feet tall, with a lean but muscular build, Miren has few feminine curves. Medium, cool-toned skin makes her stand out from the Romans. Her forearms and her hands are heavily scarred, though they appear to be her only scars. Her dark reddish-brown hair falls to the middle of her back, and she keeps it braided tightly and tucked into a bun. Her wild eyes are light grey in color, resembling a cornered animal most days. Personality: In RP |
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Darkseeker
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The distinct sound of shackles echoed the dark, long, musty halls. The tall male shuffled forward the best he could, as his ankles were shackled together. The chains dragged behind him, as he was shoved forward by one of the guards. Feeling annoyed that the guard was rushing him, he roughly pulled away. Almost toppling the guard over, with the sudden movement. The tall male sent a fierce glare over his shoulder towards the shorter guard. His body was sore and had many wounds and cuts still healing. The last thing he needed was an impatient guard shoving him around. Helio had been there long enough to have gained an odd amount of respect from the guards. The reason behind that was because they were afraid of Helio and what he was capable of. They'd seen it time and time again in the arena. Helio was the first man to have lasted this long in the Gladiator arenas. This was his ninth month. The average lifespan of a Gladiator was 3 months. Lio has tripled his time here. He'd made a name for himself. The viewers looked forward to hearing his ring name called. Atrox. It was a name given to him by the people. It meant savage and bloody. Being dragged into the rings of a Gladiator meant you were striped of your name and titles you may have held in your past life. Your whole identity was erased. Your spirit broken. With Lio, his spirit had been broken many years ago. This made him feel alive. It gave him purpose. The man was numb to killing his fellow cellmates. One couldn't make friends here. One should make friends because in the end the emperor made you killed them all just so you could live another day. Lio learned that fairly quickly. Passing through a heavy metal door, light rushed into the room. Lio walked over to the slave serving food to the prisoners. The line was long, wrapping around a few tables. Lio walked right past the line of prisoners. Not a single one of them protested, as he basically skipped the line. Grabbing a flimsy tray, he stood in front of the frail looking woman. Without a word, she poured a spoonful of what looked like something that was fed to animals. She tossed a small slice of bread next to it and placed a clay cup onto his tray. The cup was only filled the middle with water. Lio eyed his tray, but walked off and towards his usual spot. The shackles still dragging behind him. He was one of the few men that remained shackled at all times, except in the arena. They didn't trust him. Smart on their part. Lio sat down on the cold surface and began eating. His amber eyes scanning the room every once and a while. |
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Lightbringer
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Maybe it was the look in her eyes. Maybe it was the fact that she had to be restrained with the chains they used for male prisoners after she got out of the ropes twice and managed to kill a guard on her second attempt. Maybe it was something else entirely. But there was a reason the keeper hesitated to put her into the arena with one of their weaker fighters. It wasn't that he doubted the abilities of the gladiator; the man was fairly decent in the arena, having lasted nearly two months so far. It was that he didn't know enough about this woman with cold and calculated fire in her eyes, and she scared him.
She had been thrown into the arena on her first day among the gladiators. It was a way to get rid of her before she caused more problems; the keeper feared her, after all. It was better to get it over with. She was not provided with weapons; the Romans loved an unfair fight. Her opponent, a man a foot taller than herself and nearly twice her weight, had been armed as well as armored. It was a one-sided fight, or it should have been.
Miren walked out of the arena that day. Her opponent did not; his body lay crumpled on the ground beside his own bloodied sword. It had been a one-sided fight, but not the way the Romans intended. It was the sort of twisted entertainment they lived for, and in that one fight, she had made a name for herself among the masses.
Her hands trembled from adrenaline and fatigue, her first and infamous fight mere hours earlier, as she was led to the dining area by a guard. There were too many people here, the light blinded her, the hushed conversations among them were too loud as she slowly approached the counter, the majority of gladiators having already been fed. The servant looked up sympathetically, holding up the empty tray for Miren to see.
"Sorry, you're a few minutes too late," she spoke softly, offering a glass of water instead.
Miren was silent, her gaze cast downward as she took the glass of water and retreated to a quieter table to enjoy the dull sunlight through the windows for a few minutes before being taken to her permanent cell. Pale grey eyes flickered upward to briefly meet the gaze of another gladiator nearby; she noted the heavy shackles that still bound his wrists, but looked away soon after, sipping halfheartedly at her water. |
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Darkseeker
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Finishing up his small meal, Lio gazed around the room for a moment. Many of the men were already seated and hungrily eating the slop that was served to them. A fight broke out at some point. Something to do with one prisoner stealing anothers bread, or something of the sort. The guards were quick to break it up. Of course, using brute force. Either that be their own fists, or objects they found near by. Soon enough the guards dragged the two men away towards their dark dingy cells. Leaving the dinning area guard free, but it wouldn't last. At this point, Lio noticed her. She was quick to break eye contact. His brows were furrowed, but other than that he showed no expression. Frankly, he was confused. There was a woman, in the gladiator corridors. Female gladiator weren't even a thing. If anything it was like having a unicorn in the room. Lio wasn't the only one that was staring at her, trying to figure out why she was even here. Maybe it was a mistake. The difference between why Lio was staring and why other male prisoners were staring, was he was trying to figure the situation out. While the others were eyeing her like she was a piece of meat. Helio watched as a man began approaching her. They placed their hands on the table in front of her, and began leaning forward. From where Lio was sat he could vaguely hear what they were saying to the woman. "So the Keeper was nice enough to give us a treat, huh." The man sneered at her, as he creepily looked her up and down. Lio's fiery gaze glanced at the doors. The guards weren't back yet. The Keeper must have lost their mind. Placing women in the arena? What was next? Children? Or maybe she wasn't actually here for the arena. The thing was, what was her purpose here then. Normally, when slaves are captured they are placed in fields, hard labor, or as servants. The few unlucky males were placed into the gladiator rings. Women never saw the gladiator rings, except this woman. A part of Helio didn't actually care she was placed here. Then the other part was just filled with curiosity. What a shame, he simply thought to himself as he finished off the rest of his water. Adverting his gaze to the cell like windows. That were simply just iron bars. Collecting his empty tray, he brought it up to the counter. The servant was still there, working on gathering her things. Lio stacked a few other empty trays, as best as he could with his wrists bind, before placing them into a basket for the woman. "She shouldn't be here." She mumbled quietly. However, the concern in her voice was clear as day. Helio didnt say anything, only glancing over his shoulder at the woman. |
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Darkseeker
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Edited at December 29, 2021 11:04 PM by Ylva
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Lightbringer
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Both of Miren's hands wrapped around the glass she held, eyes glued to the worn wood of the table in front of her to avoid accidentally making eye contact with any of the gladiators. There were far too many of them here; her heart raced when the room was left unguarded, though she was sure the guards would not exactly step in on her behalf if she was attacked. After all, it had been mere weeks before that she had been ripped from her home, at the hands of men wearing the same armor these guards so proudly bore. Heavy footsteps caused her to look up, eyes dull as she watched the man approach. He towered over her, they all did. His large hands rested on the table in front of her, his bulk blocking any escape she might have planned. Miren sat up straighter, her pointed chin held high without a glimmer of fear in her steely eyes. For a moment, she said nothing, merely held his gaze with a startling intensity. When she did speak, her voice lightly tinged with an unfamiliar accent, she rose from her seat, mirroring his position with her hands on the tabletop and leaning forward until her nose nearly touched his chin. For a woman of her diminutive stature, the move was oddly intimidating, showing a startling lack of respect for the man's personal space. "Watch your tongue," she practically growled. "Or I shall cut it out." She stood unwavering, small and nearly childlike hands pressing against the table, leaning over the barrier with her face mere inches from his, never breaking eye contact. It took a few moments; perhaps a minute or so passed before the man backed off, muttering something about how women were supposed to be as Miren sat on the bench again, still sipping at her glass of water. Her stomach ached with hunger, but it didn't matter. It was satisfying enough to see the look on that gladiator's face. Her gaze moved briefly to the shackled man, hearing the dull metallic scraping of the chains against the stone floor as he moved. He glanced over his shoulder just in time to see the other gladiator back down, slinking back to his group of creeps. The guards returned shortly, taking their places near the doors and informing the gladiators matter-of-factly that only five minutes remained of their meal time and they would be escorted back to their cells shortly. Absently, Miren wondered where her cell would be, and which of these disgusting men she would have to share it with, as she had been told earlier that she would no longer have the luxury of a cell to herself. She had yet to see another woman here, either, so it seemed that she was more or less out of luck. |
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Darkseeker
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Helio's gazed moved between the man that was pressing the woman and the woman. His fellow gladiator backed down? Was he seeing things. It was rather odd and unexpected. He half expected the man to attack the woman. Possibly even kill her right here in front of everyone, as the guards weren't back yet. He must have missed something. Maybe his friends told him to leave her alone. Lio didn't fully believe that himself. How could a woman of her stature be "scary." Every man in here was double her height and double her weight. Hell, Lio could fold her in half. Odd. Sending a simple curt nod towards the woman that served their food, he turned towards the door. He didn't care about the five minute warning. Other times he went back to his cell even earlier. It was rather strange as the majority of the men here preferred to stay anywhere, but their cell or the arena. If they could stall the guards a little longer past the five minute warning they would, but that resulted in a beating. In all honesty, Lio found peace in his cell. It was quiet, other than when there was a battle in the arena. Where either cheers, or screams of terror could be heard. Plus his cell was sort of isolated. One of the guards gave a smug look to Lio, but motioned to go forward. Strange. Lio walked forward, ignoring the guard. In all his time here Helio hasn't uttered a word to these people. Nor reacted to their cruel tortures. Lio wasn't new to their torturing mechanisms. Hell, they used him for new devices. It seemed at times, their goals were to get a reaction out of him. Anything, even a simple moan of pain, or grimace. It was like they craved to hear their victims cry out in pain. Helio refused to give them that satisfaction. His last dying breath, he still wouldn't make a peep, he would make sure of it. The shackles once again dragging against the cold stone floor, as he made his way to his cell. Walking into his familiar cell, he felt some resistance on the shackles at his feet. The guard had purposely stepped on it. Lio turned to the much shorter man, a fierce glare playing on his features. "New rules in place. You leave the dinning hall early, you wear this." The guard motioned towards a neck shackle. Lio gazed at it, without hesitation he held his shackled wrists out to the guard, almost challenging him. The guard narrowed his beady eyes at him, but began placing the shackle around his neck, and attaching it to his wrist chains. With that his cell door slammed shut. The lock clicking shortly after. Helio sat in the middle of his cell against the cold stone wall. Where he always sat. He slid his back against the cold wall. Leaning his muscular arms over his knees. His head hung low as the new neck shackled weighed it down, raven hair falling into his eyes as he did so. He closed his eyes, already getting lost in his own world. Being here for nine months one would think he had already lost his mind. Not quite. |
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Lightbringer
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It was almost funny, in a sad way, how excessive they were being with the one gladiator. Her gaze followed him as he walked to the exit, only to be stopped by a guard and further restrained with a neck shackle. Excessive was an understatement, she decided, finishing her drink and setting the empty cup aside. She wondered what he had done that warranted such treatment, if only so she could avoid the same fate herself. She remembered far too well how heavy the chains felt on her wrists and ankles. As the men began filing out of the room, returning reluctantly to their assigned cells under the watchful eye of the guards, one of the armored men approached her, a pair of shackles in his hands. Glaring murderously at the guars as he roughly tightened the restraints on her wrists, she followed as he more or less dragged her along the corridor toward her new cell. Fumbling with a set of keys for a moment, the guard first unlocked her shackles, then the door of the occupied cell. In one swift movement, he opened the door and shoved her inside with unnecessary force, slamming the door behind her and locking it. "Enjoy the company." Miren barely caught herself on the uneven floor of the cell, whipping around to hiss curses at the guard in her native language. Once he was gone, however, her gaze moved around the cell, landing on the man who sat against the wall. Him. Of course it was him. The last person she wanted to share a cell with... Save for maybe the other man from the meal area. She said nothing at first, moving to sit in a corner of the cell opposite him, giving him as much space as she could in the close quarters they were forced to share. It was no secret that he intimidated her, that much was clear from her body language. However, after sitting for a few moments, she shifted her weight a bit, tugging at her sleeve. A shallow but rather bloody cut was revealed on her upper arm as she did so, the corners of her eyes tightening in her only expression of pain. The wound had not been cleaned, though some of the blood was already dried. Her opponent in the arena had managed to get one good hit before she snatched the sword from his hands. |
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Spring 
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Fog
