had it all figured out, Theocoles shifted and revealed something new.
I leaned closer, my cheek pressed hard against the rough, splintered wood, as I watched Theocoles shift to the side and position himself, before springing into the air, his
legs kicking, sword slashing, piercing the air just beside where she stood.
And that’s when I realized the rest of it—that’s when I knew that while Messalina may have been gazing at him, Theocoles had not returned the look. He’d been staring right past her, still lost in his world.
But Messalina was not one to give up—she remained as stubborn as I knew her to be. And from the small square opening at the top of the door, I followed her progress as she eased her way around his thrusts and kicks, veering around him in a carefully choreographed dance.
Shouting as loud as she could, she fought to get the champion gladiator to take notice of her. Her voice fading, face growing increasingly frustrated, when he continued to ignore her in favor of his own tireless routine.
The scene so hopeless, dragging on for so long, I was just about to cut my losses and find my way back, when Messalina heaved a great sigh, found her way to the edge of his cot, where she sat, legs crossed daintily, hands folded primly, as she said, “Theocoles, I wish you would heed my words and please reconsider. You don’t have to do this, you know. You don’t have to go through with this. I will gladly give you the money, so that all of this madness can end.”
Barely getting the words out before Theocoles stopped
and turned, his gaze focused on hers, looking as though the light had come on, the fog had been cleared. He dropped his hands to his sides, leaned toward her, and said, “Your offer insults me—demeans me!” He shook his head, raked his fingers through his bangs, fixing his deep topaz eyes on hers. “Do you think me not worthy? Do you think I’ve come this far, slaughtered so many worthy opponents, only to make a spectacle of my own defeat?”
She looked at him, her face bearing so little expression, the words coming so quickly, so automatically I suddenly understood what was happening.
It was a performance.
They were both running lines from a scene they’d reenacted countless times.
Theocoles so immersed in the role it was clear that for him, it was no different than the fist time it happened. But for Messalina, the words were halfhearted, weary, spoken with no trace of emotion, like reading aloud from a textbook.
She’d tried to insert a new scene, tried to wake him up to a more modern day, but Theocoles remained stuck in a past he chose to live over and over again. Forcing Messalina to slip into the role she’d lived long ago in order to enjoy his attentions.
I pressed closer, strained to hear their words, knowing
that if it was a scene he chose to relive then it was definitely a scene of great significance. It was not to be missed.
“You know I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just anxious to begin our lives together,” Messalina said, her voice soft and tired.
“As am I.” He moved toward her, his gaze intense as he knelt down before her. “Everything I do is in anticipation of that day. Are you not aware of that?”
She cocked her head to the side and shot him a dubious look. “Everything you do is for me?” She pursed her lips, wrapped a loose curl around her index finger. “Are you quite sure of that? None of it is for Lucius?”
Theocoles paused, looked away, his face saddened, reflective, as he said, “There cannot be one without the other.” He returned his gaze to hers. “I’m afraid our fates are all bound together.” He reached toward her, brushed his finger across her brow, along the curve of her cheek, pressing the soft underside of her chin. He lifted her face until her gaze locked on his. “Now come, it is time we bid our good-byes in favor of rest.” He rose to his feet as she did the same. “My hope is that you will carry the sweet promise
I leaned closer, my cheek pressed hard against the rough, splintered wood, as I watched Theocoles shift to the side and position himself, before springing into the air, his
legs kicking, sword slashing, piercing the air just beside where she stood.
And that’s when I realized the rest of it—that’s when I knew that while Messalina may have been gazing at him, Theocoles had not returned the look. He’d been staring right past her, still lost in his world.
But Messalina was not one to give up—she remained as stubborn as I knew her to be. And from the small square opening at the top of the door, I followed her progress as she eased her way around his thrusts and kicks, veering around him in a carefully choreographed dance.
Shouting as loud as she could, she fought to get the champion gladiator to take notice of her. Her voice fading, face growing increasingly frustrated, when he continued to ignore her in favor of his own tireless routine.
The scene so hopeless, dragging on for so long, I was just about to cut my losses and find my way back, when Messalina heaved a great sigh, found her way to the edge of his cot, where she sat, legs crossed daintily, hands folded primly, as she said, “Theocoles, I wish you would heed my words and please reconsider. You don’t have to do this, you know. You don’t have to go through with this. I will gladly give you the money, so that all of this madness can end.”
Barely getting the words out before Theocoles stopped
and turned, his gaze focused on hers, looking as though the light had come on, the fog had been cleared. He dropped his hands to his sides, leaned toward her, and said, “Your offer insults me—demeans me!” He shook his head, raked his fingers through his bangs, fixing his deep topaz eyes on hers. “Do you think me not worthy? Do you think I’ve come this far, slaughtered so many worthy opponents, only to make a spectacle of my own defeat?”
She looked at him, her face bearing so little expression, the words coming so quickly, so automatically I suddenly understood what was happening.
It was a performance.
They were both running lines from a scene they’d reenacted countless times.
Theocoles so immersed in the role it was clear that for him, it was no different than the fist time it happened. But for Messalina, the words were halfhearted, weary, spoken with no trace of emotion, like reading aloud from a textbook.
She’d tried to insert a new scene, tried to wake him up to a more modern day, but Theocoles remained stuck in a past he chose to live over and over again. Forcing Messalina to slip into the role she’d lived long ago in order to enjoy his attentions.
I pressed closer, strained to hear their words, knowing
that if it was a scene he chose to relive then it was definitely a scene of great significance. It was not to be missed.
“You know I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just anxious to begin our lives together,” Messalina said, her voice soft and tired.
“As am I.” He moved toward her, his gaze intense as he knelt down before her. “Everything I do is in anticipation of that day. Are you not aware of that?”
She cocked her head to the side and shot him a dubious look. “Everything you do is for me?” She pursed her lips, wrapped a loose curl around her index finger. “Are you quite sure of that? None of it is for Lucius?”
Theocoles paused, looked away, his face saddened, reflective, as he said, “There cannot be one without the other.” He returned his gaze to hers. “I’m afraid our fates are all bound together.” He reached toward her, brushed his finger across her brow, along the curve of her cheek, pressing the soft underside of her chin. He lifted her face until her gaze locked on his. “Now come, it is time we bid our good-byes in favor of rest.” He rose to his feet as she did the same. “My hope is that you will carry the sweet promise
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