A Brother In A Brothel

[Barca]

Barca felt his entire body throb. He groaned into consciousness, feeling weakened and the difficulty of moving stronger than ever before. He blinked open his eyes, the area he was in fairly dim which aided in opening them further. He did not recognize the vicinity. Trying to sit up, he felt himself weighted and then a strong sting at the sudden movement. Glancing down he saw blood coating his lower body, flashes of how they came to be racing through his mind. It was then that he knew where he was. Vaguely. The sewers. Disposed of. Betrayed by his master. Barca groaned in discomfort as he attempted to rise to his feet, hand pressed against the two stab wounds that seeped blood. He felt dizzy, incredibly light headed and annoyingly weak. He was no medicus but he knew this must have come from the intense blood loss. There was only one thing that moved him to his feet.

Pietros. He could not leave him in the ludus and . . . what would he think of Barca? What would happen to him without his protection? Barca already knew the answer to this and it was enough to force his body to act quicker. Ripping a piece from the cloth he had been wrapped in, he dampened it and began to wipe away as much blood as possible, before tying it tightly around the wound, proceeding to wrap it around him as a shawl. His body was slightly hunched over from the pain and discomfort but he managed to make his way out of the sewer. Relief swept over him that it was night time and he could better camouflage in the shadows of Capua's streets. Pietros was foremost on his mind but he knew not where to go. Or what to start. Perhaps the gods chose to show him favor in that moment, for he overheard someone speak the name of a former brother.

Gannicus. Barca sharply turned his head and asked the man where he was rumored to last be. They did not know, but Barca could take a case. A brothel or tavern. There were many in Capua and it wasn't until the fourth location he tried, that he was met with success. Lucky too for he felt his body growing increasingly weak, features paled, straining to keep moving. He saw him emerge from a room and moved towards him, hoping he was sober enough to make conversation. For it was one of great import. He reached out to grasp his arm and moved close to the man. "Brother," he stated in a low, hoarse voice; weaker than his usual tone.

Tag: Gannicus

[Gannicus]

god of the arena Gannicus didn't bother to breathe as he chugged his wine and everyone cheered while the pretend contender couldn't finish his cup first! Tossing the empty cup into the drunken roar of the drunken crowd he held up his hands in glory! A whore jumped up and claimed his neck as she tugged him down for a kiss! He grinned as he let her pull away, finally bothering to breathe in! It was in moments like these the boredom didn't stifle him. It was in moments like these that the guilt was momentarily not foremost in his mind. It was in moments like these that he didn't see her face--almost didn't. A hand on his arm turned him, and he turned to to face the voice that called him brother--only to come face to face with an armpit! Looking up he saw Barca! "Brother!" He greeted loudly, uncaring who heard! He noticed with ease the body language of an injured man. "You should have taken to bed with a lover to aid you! You look like shit!" He jested not thinking anything of it other then that Barca had fought int he games! "Come! Drink with me!" He said excited to have a friend near by! One that he had not fucked the wife of!

^{TAG Barca}