Helios wasn't one to sit there and count his killings. The audience on the other hand, probably tallied it up. Making their bets on him, like he were a race horse. Although, Lio did think about the fact that out of that whole group, only two of them stood up and fought. Miren seemed to fight with her soul. While Lio only put enough effort in to finish the battle. A part of him was intrigued by her. Her spirit wasn't broken...yet. She still clearly had a lot of fight left in her. She seemed much more lively than most of the men here, who have given up and raised the white flag. Lio liked that about her. It gave hope. Even if maybe it was just false hope, it was there.

Helios didn't bother giving a second glance at the arena. The fight was over. He wasn't going to stand over the corpses he put there. Although, he was numb to it, he still held onto what was left of his morals. In the beginning, it was tough. He'd try to find ways to make what he was doing sound okay. That he was putting the men he was killing out of their misery. That idea quickly died down. Now he was just numb. Hell, at times it felt as if he'd simply blacked out, until he won.

Helios was the first to arrive back at his cell. When the door opened again, he had almost forgotten that he shared his cell with a woman. He didn't acknowledge her for a moment. Letting his eyelids close, under what felt like a heavy weight on him. By no means was he in pain, just exhausted. His muscles ached and screamed at him for a break. If they kept throwing him in the Ring he would probably tear something. He probably looked like a mess. His black hair plastered to his tan forehead, as the sun was beating down hard on their backs out in the arena. Dried and wet blood still staining his tan skin. The only blood that was his, was the one from his thigh.

After settling into a comfortable silence with his cellmate, he leaned back against the cold stone. Letting it cool his body. Before he could answer his cellmate, the cell door opened once more. A guard and a servant walked in. The servant carried two wooden buckets filled with water. She placed them on the ground, spilling some of the water. The guard snapped at her, "Foolish girl!" His hand swinging up to strike her. Lio was up on his feet in a heartbeat. The chains rattled with the swift movement. The guard stumbled back, going for his sword. "Hey! Settle down beast!" The guard hissed, fear clearly in his voice.

Helios towered over the guard, jaw clenched. That was one thing he hated. The guards beating servants or other gladiators right in front of him. His bloody hands fisted. The guard used the poor servant girl as cover. "Clean up, Atrox!" He tried sounding tough, but the fear seeped through. The cell door slammed shut. Lio stood there for a moment. Knowing damn well that servant was going to get a beating behind closed doors.

Finally he turned his attention towards Miren. "It's just a scratch." His voice still scratchy and deep from lack of use. He pushed one bucket towards his cellmate, before settling down in his spot. Grabbing the cloth on the side of the bucket he began slowly cleaning the blood of his victims from his hands.

It would be a lie to say that Miren didn't flinch when the door was opened. Actually, her immediate response was to recoil from the sound of the guard's voice, knees drawn up to her chest as she pressed herself further into the corner. It was quite the cowardly response from the girl with such skill on the battlefield, but this was different. It was clear from her reaction that, like all of the gladiators trapped in this neverending hell, she had been mistreated by the guards, but she was more of a target than the men for obvious reasons.

Either way, she managed to snap out of it quickly enough, mentally scolding herself and muttering audibly under her breath as she pulled herself together and leaned forward to watch the guard and servant. Her reaction to the guard threatening the servant was nearly the same as her cellmate's, whose real name she had yet to uncover. She rose indignantly to her feet as well, though made no move to approach the guard, fear tying her hands tighter than the shackles on her wrists. She'd been punished, for her display in the cell earlier when they came to fetch her. Her cellmate hadn't seen, but she had been punished, and she could feel the bruises forming under her skin from the brief beating as well as the fight.

Only when the guard left, door locked behind him, did she dare to relax again, sinking down to lean against the wall as she glanced at her cellmate.

"Looks like a pretty deep scratch," she commented with a quiet, almost nervous laugh, attempting to ignore the near panic attack that she'd felt mere moments before. Pulling her bucket towards her, she shifted closer to him, though leaving him plenty of personal space. "Mind if I take a look at it?"

She didn't fully wait for an answer, dipping the cloth into her own bucket of clean-ish water, dabbing at the wound with a surprisingly gentle touch. Leaning back a bit, she sat cross-legged next to his leg, closer than she had gotten before but still ready to move back quickly if he showed that he needed space. It was slightly hard to function with the shackles on her wrists, but she managed well enough.

"You know..." she mentioned, "I never got your name. Your real one. I know what the arena calls you, but that isn't your name."

The water splashed quietly as he dipped the cloth back in the bucket. Scrubbing away at the red spots that painted his tan skin. His neck still felt raw, so he avoided rubbing at the skin there. At least he'd get a break from the heavy neck shackle, but a part of him felt that in no time the guards would find another reason to force him to wear. Either that be him actually doing something to receive it, or a made up lie. It most likely being the latter option.

Helios eyes flickered over to her for a moment. He was an expert at blocking out the pain. Although, he has received much worse injuries. This one wasn't going to kill him. It was, however, a lesson for future fights. He couldn't get distracted like that. Let alone distracted by his cellmate, of all things. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't highly intrigued by her and her skill on the battlefield. He finally turned to her, a scowl playing on his features. Yet, a puzzled look in his amber eyes. What was she doing? He shrugged his broad shoulders, "It's nothing." He insisted.

Before he could even answer her question she was already working on cleaning his wound. He tensed, not because she was so close to him. Simply because he wasn't used to others treating his wounds. If the medic worked on him it was because he was unconscious, not when he was up and alert. If the wounds were bad enough, he'd treat himself with the stolen ointments. There was also the part, where he had never received such a tender and kind touch from another human being, in at least a few years. A part of him was almost suspicion with her actions. That was just the paranoia, as people who treated him well never lasted. At times screwing him over when they got what they wanted from him.

Lio paused his own actions, for a moment. Letting his large veiny hands hang over his own bucket of water. As she was hyper focused on his thigh, he took a moment to look her over. It was almost humorous, looking at how small she looked next to him. Finally, he dragged his fiery gaze away and focused on the water in his bucket. He made no move to pull away, or even push her away. Although, a part of him wanted to shove her away. He thought for a moment. It felt almost pointless to give her his real name. He'd never get to go back to using that name anymore so why did it matter. After a few moments of silence, he reluctantly spoke up, "Helios." His voice was deep and rich. He spoke his name with a perfect accent. It felt so odd, muttering a name that was long dead.

Funnily enough, his name meant sun god. A name meant for someone who was always bright, sunny and kind. Helios was far from that. Atrox fit a whole lot better. Not wanting to think about all the wrongs he's done in his life, he was quick to change the topic. "You did good out there." He finally muttered out. He played with the water for a moment. "It'll only get more challenging now that you've proven your skill." His jaw clenched. He wanted to be real with her. If there was anyone who knew the Keepers ways, it was him. Helios has been his toy long enough to know how the Keeper works. In a way, he wanted to warn her. That it only gets worse from here.

Giving her a curt nod in response to what she had said about his name, he didn't say much else. He didn't really believe that. It didn't suit him. It never has. He could never live up to it, but it wasn't like it mattered anymore. Although, it was oddly comforting hearing his name muttered by someone else and not in a demeaning way. She simply tested his name on her tongue. He quickly buried that thought though. Half hoping she didn't use his real name in front of others or in general.

Peaking from under his thick lashes he watched her gentle hands work their magic. He truly believed it wasn't as bad it looked. Every cut bled. Weirdly enough, on him he was a big bleeder. A paper cut would leave his finger in a pool of blood. He was used to it, looking like a murder scene when he was injured. It didn't help that he was always so relaxed and nonchalant about wounds he received. Not a peep out of him, no matter how bad the injury inflicted on him was. Dragging his gaze over to where she was reaching, he nodded. If it were him, he probably wouldn't have used it. He mostly used it for larger wounds.

Just like that her warm present was replaced with coldness and emptiness. She scooted back to her spot in the corner of the cell. He looked over the clean wound. It had stopped bleeding long ago. She knew her way around treating wounds that was for sure. His brows furrowed at that. He'd heard from other gladiators how their villages and homes were burnt to the ground. Villagers killed, others taken. It was a horrendous practice the Roman's participated in. It wasn't like Helios could relate though. He had no family. No home. No possessions. Nothing. He was a slave before this. He hasn't had anything for years now. He had time to get use to that lifestyle before coming here, so it wasn't like he had much to miss. It wasn't like he had freedom outside of these walls either. He was a slave.

"Theres no such thing as leaving." He finally spoke up. It was a dark and negative thing to say but it was true. He wouldn't sugar coat it. Pushing the bucket of water away from him, he pulled his long legs closer to his chest. Wrapping his large arms around his knees, he rested his head on his forearms. "Thank you...Miren." His voice was muffled, as he thanked her for her help. Soon enough it would be time to get dinner, so he would get his rest in before.

"I know."

Her words hung heavily in the silence that settled between them as she leaned against the cool stone, halfheartedly fiddling with the shackles on her wrists. It was pointless fidgeting; she knew she couldn't get out of them, but it was something for her hands to do while her mind wandered, finally comprehending the events that had led up to and followed the fight. A fight just like that would be her demise, someday. There was no doubt. It was merely a matter of time.

An hour later, perhaps two hours later, a guard opened the door of their cell, two more following him. One went to pull Miren to her feet, trusting the woman to go obediently, and the other two focused on Helios. Miren wondered, absently, if it would be easier for the Romans to bring trays to each cell instead of collecting the dangerous gladiators in one central room.

But it didn't matter. She was marched to the dining area along with the rest of the men, and when the others tried to shove her out of her place in line, she shoved right back, a few well-placed elbows and kicks serving to keep the gladiators a safe distance away. Her eyes briefly darted around the room in search of Helios, as she finally was given her tray of unappetizing food and clay cup of water.

She didn't quite make it to where he was seated before a larger gladiator stopped directly in her path, staring down at her in a clear attempt to intimidate her as the corner of his lip tugged upwards in a sly smirk. Before she could avoid him, his painfully rough and calloused hand darted out to grab her chin, attempting to force her to look up at him.

"Leave me be," she hissed, attempting to pull away from him as she set her tray on a nearby table.

"Now, now, let's not be hasty," he spoke, voice low and threatening as his other hand snaked out to wrap around her waist.