[P] call it pride of a man

[Orestes]

EATING FIRE IS YOUR AMBITION; TO SWALLOW THE FLAME DOWN, TAKE IT INTO YOUR MOUTH, AND SHOOT IT FORTH, A SHORT OR AN INCANDESCENT TONGUE, A WORD, EXPLODING FROM YOU IN GOLD, CRIMSON, UNROLLING IN A BRILLIANT SCROLL

I have never been a soldier. 

I know of men who were born into it; who could see themselves as nothing save a fighter, a warrior. I know women who were the same, many of my own people, or others still.I think of one who was other, who was not my people, and her name is the shape of water—Boudika, there and then gone as soon as I think it. I think—even without her name—of how being a “soldier” encompassed everything she was, and more, more, more. 

Perhaps that is the kind of dedication it takes, then, to be a soldier. Perhaps it takes a sort of self-sacrifice. 

It is not that I am unfamiliar with that; I have fought for many things, in different ways. But the love for it has never been mine. I do not crave conflict; I do not need the expression, the assurance, that I can kill. Perhaps it had been in my nature, once, when I could become any creature that my mind could imagine. Perhaps it had been in my nature, once, when I needed meat to live.

I think of these things in the grand shadow of the Colosseum; I think of them because I step into sands where death is a way of life, where strange lemur-like creatures scatter from my shadow and take roost in the god-made pillars of the land. It is red, the earth and the stands, and the sun is creeping above one edge of the Colosseum to cast half in shadow and half in light. I stand between for a moment, blinking it from my eyes, trying to think of anything other than blood. 

I am not here to fight; only to think. I hope to find soldiers practicing; and then realise that is not the purpose of the Colosseum, despite the disuse it has suffered after Raum’s tyranny. I walk a tight circle and stop when my back is to the light. I just breathe; I just try to understand the scenes that may have played out, the battles raged, the pride injured or restored.

I do not know how long I stand there, alone, before I hear someone approaching. The lemur-creatures scatter again, and I open my eyes to someone I do not recognise. 

TO BE LIT FROM WITHIN, VEIN BY VEIN. TO BE THE SUN.

@Dondre || not my best! but the next one will be better! 

SILENTIUM @ deviant art.com

[Dondre]

He could hear it again, rushing at him like a tidal wave of voices, as his hooves press into the dirt of the Colosseum floor. They chant his name above the roar of beasts, his blade hitting the hard rock ground as he calls out for more, despite the blood that tangles with his dark hair and streams down his face. His amber eyes alight with flame, though nothing more, as magic is forbidden when fighting for sport, and he is no cheater. He can hear the clanking and the groaning of chain as the gates lift. The sound of claws scrapping brick and stone, the ground vibrating beneath his feet with each step from his larger opponent. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath...

But when he opens them again, he is somewhere else. There is no crowd and no dragon to fight. The battle ring he stands in is not the one of Hadyn. In his grasp is not his sword, and the raging voices fade out to nothing but the wind whistling through the cracks of sandstone. The sun casts deep shadows from where it sits behind the Colosseum walls, sending a chill through the warrior's bones. He lets out his breath in a sigh, his head dipping and eyes closing. It only takes but a moment for his magic to warm his body, but his soul remains to feel cold. He has not been gone for long, but it feels like centuries...

His ears flicker at a sound. Scurrying, it sounds like, but not at the feet of an equine, but something much smaller. His eyes open and ears prick, both guarded and curious. Slowly, he makes his way toward the sound, his defenses raised, but exhaustion keeping his muscles from tensing. If he were to die today, from an unknown small predator, he couldnt say it would be his worst day. 

The sound had long since faded since he peeked his head around a corner, but it was then that he found the little creatures. They took one look at him before scattering once more, the sound of their feet clambering across the hard ground akin the sound before. However, there was another with them. An equine. A man of a light dappled coat and shimmering silver hair; golden markings etched across his skin. He was merely standing, seeming unphased by the creatures scurrying at his feet.

For a moment, Dondre allowed silence to fall between them, the sun now soaking against his back and the breeze tangling his long tail against his fetlocks. He hummed quietly to himself before finally choosing to speak up. "Greetings." His voice was deep and strong, like that of a soldier's, but hinted at fatigue, like that of a soldier who had fought for too long.

@Orestes