HANDled

[Gannicus]

god of the arena Gannicus had heard that his friend had been one of the many returned to them. He drank in the man's honor at the news, and left the lovers to ave the night. It was the next dawn that had Gannicus seeking out his friend, and walking into the tent without asking permission. He grinned down at Agron, who lie in the comfort of a makeshift bed. Nasir had been seen leaving not long before, assuming to fetch food and report on Agron's health. "The gods would not have you," He said with a smile in his tone, though he knew that his friend would have been mistreated. It was why he did not welcome him in jest, but in gratefulness. Gannicus moved to sit on the edge of the false bed, so that Agron would not attempt to rise. "It warms heart to see you returned," he admitted though his tone had a smile it in. Gannicus didn't often be serious, and he knew his friend the same. With Crixus dead, and Agron falsely assumed dead, it had brought a blanket of realization to the remaining. They would die here. He knew that now. Only now he had reason to live. He would fight however, and see as many down with him as he could. If he was strong enough, he would too, live.

^Agron

[Agron]

Tag: Gannicus
 
Note: Sorry he didn't say much!
 Hopefully its not hard to reply to!

blood and battle

ARE ALL I HAVE EVER KNOWN

Agron had never thought he'd follow the Gaul anywhere. But he had. For this, they shared a mind. The need to see more Roman blood rather than retire past the Alps in the hopes of a life, absent battle and blood. Agron did not believe he was fated for such yet now . . . choice seemed to be ripped from his grasp. He would never forget the words, not the feeling as the nails dug into each palm of his hand, a deviation from normal crucifixion. To maximize the pain should he live. Not physically, but psychologically. Ensuring that he could not wield a weapon. And what success they had met.

The bruises on his face and body were nothing compared to each hole in his hand. Preventing him from lifting sword. And for the first time, the German felt his spirits deflated. The loss of Crixus and so many others . . . he may as well have died too. Agron almost didn't realize the presence in the tent, until he spoke. He opened his eyes as far as they could with the swelling of them resulted by the bruises of a beating. Ordinarily, he may have humored the Celt. Returned the jest. But right now, he felt defeated.

Despite the ease with which Gannicus provided him, the stubborn man attempted to sit up, hardly to any avail and inwardly cursing at his inability to do anything. Not even such a simple act as sitting. He swallowed, eyes falling to the bandage that wrapped around one of his hands. "To live but not fight . . . death would be a welcome kindness. One that the gods spit on." By rejecting him and condemning him to this world where he held no purpose. His words spoken with disdain, frustration, his temper only muted by his physical condition.

[Gannicus]

god of the arena Clearly mood was low. Gannicus had expected that it would be, but it was disheartening to see it so. "There are other weapons beside sword." He reminded his friend, "You will fight again." Though Gannicus doubted Agron would grip another again, not even cock. Good thing he had a young lover. The Roman's knew hot to best ruin a warrior. To take his hands. He could think of no worse fate, but did not give voice too it. This was no the time to voice concerns but to distract. Holding up the drink in his hand, he offered some to his friend. "At least they did not take your cock." He said with a grin, "Your man can be grateful for that." He was trying to bring some amusement to his friend, though he knew it was a poor effort. He had always known this might be how they would find their end. No one liked the reminder. Yet he wanted peace for his friend and for this to pass.

^Agron

[Agron]

Tag: Gannicus

blood and battle

ARE ALL I HAVE EVER KNOWN

Agron wanted to find comfort in his friend's words. A man that he had grown to call brother. But the German was already of a cynical mind, well before the war against Romans. This proved to be no exception to his usual mindset. "But not when it matters most," he stated in response. He may fight again, but it would be too late. He needed to fight. Here. Now. When they had already lost so many, and where the Romans drew nearer to them. What use did he hold otherwise? Despite his lacking appetite for drink, he reached for the cup, fighting a twitch of pain at the pressure it placed in his palm as he attempted to grip it with the hold of his fingers more.

Gannicus was never short a sarcastic remark or joke, and it was a trait that Agron usually most enjoyed about him. But right now, he feared the company he would present himself. He could not even draw a smile at the tease. The mention of Nasir only making Agron feel worse, as he returned to him more useless than ever before. Even with his cock intact. "Perhaps he would have been more grateful had I not left." He had told him he was a fool to have left him, though wasn't entirely certain if he fully regretted his decision. It only made him feel conflicted.

"My cock proves less of a weapon. Would they have just parted me from both and seen me from this world. Instead they fuck me in it, leaving me without purpose to the cause." Had he not felt at ease with Gannicus, he would not have voiced such things. But he felt a strong bond with him, and the words came out less guarded than they should have been. Topped with a large swig of the drink he held to offer his mouth much needed distraction from the shit he spewed out. "Apologies," he said once swallowing the beverage. "I fear my company not in usual spirits." Where they had so often laughed and drank, now he lamented and mourned.

[Gannicus]

god of the arena Agron voiced that he would not be able to fight when it mattered. "You held Oenomaus in high. He too was struck down, but gave his knowledge in teaching your fucking self to fight." He pointed out, still trying to help his friend, though he knew it would not be today nor tomorrow when Agron felt a smile on his lips next. "Take moment, and let self held then see what comes." He advised. Though they were both warriors, and they both knew that time would not do much. Agron would be forced to spend his days training, not fighting. A bitter end to a great gladiator. "Then you use it wrong," He jested when his friend she his cock was not a weapon. Agron gave apologies for his mood and Gannicus held up his hand. "You live. Your spirits can do what they like." No one expected him to come from his unchanged. Lesser men would not have made it. It proved that his brother was strong, and that the Romans knew how to wound a man. "I have seen man put to cross. One a girl who was put their by Asher for showing me kindness. To have you returned from it is enough. Tomorrow we will find a way for you to fuck the Romans." But not in combat. He would have to do it from afar. Unless miracle was given and his hands still could grip sword.

^Agron