[MythicDusk]

Cassius laughed at the prod to his accent, a sound that made his wound hurt. "Ah, what did I say about making me laugh you gaul fuck." He wheezed in pain as he carefully straightened himself out. "Honestly, it may less be the accent, more just your language that sounds like a dying goat, my friend." He huffed, slowly relaxing back into his cot.

He snorted at his jibe to his stage name. "I'm still guessing you'll be 'The mouse-cocked gaul'. Imagine it, people crying it out on the stands. 'Mouse cock, mouse cock, mouse cock!'" He cupped his hands over his mouth to imitate the distant roaring of a crowd before laughing gently, letting his hands fall carefully to lay across his chest.

[Mousen]

"Not my fault I'm charming, friend. Try having less holes in you next time you listen to my jokes." Louernios shrugged, his expression halfway between smug and amused. At the insult to his language, Louernios uttered a few curses, most of them roughly translating to "Etruscan son of a bitch", there was no malice in it, though. "If my Gaulish doesn't please you, I can also call you a bastard in Belgic and Greek. That's what a prince's education buys you these days." That, and the ability to lead your people to their slaughter, he supposed.

Louernios shook his head with a smile. It felt as though his brains were sloshing about in there. It had been too long of a day, and he couldn't imagine Cassius felt any better than he did. "If they do, I will undress and they will pick a much more flattering nickname."

[MythicDusk]

He could feel his own heartbeat under his fingers. A slow, strong presence thast beat a constant tattoo of life. It was comforting, to be able to seperate the lubs from the dubs, the dahs from the dums. For a moment, he felt it slow, felt his body relax into the cot. For a moment, he felt like he was melting before he shook himself awake with a sharp inhale, his heartrate spiking under his fingers before he gave a slow, lazy smile.

"If you find roach-cock more flattering." He yawned, his eyes slipping shut again as a sound of amusement rumbled through him. "Heh. Cockroach."

[Mousen]

Louerios smiled as Cassius started to drift off. It was for the best that he slept. He just hoped that the poor Etruscan would make it through the night. The medicus had seem skilled enough, at least. Being faintly worried for Cassius was easier than reflecting on everything else at least, it seemed like he'd barely closed his eyes before--

the high pitched screams of the girls being bodily dragged from the huts, he could hear the Romans laughing, fire crackling as it leapt from roof to roof, smoke and the scent of mud and sweat, he could taste the blood in his mouth he was shouting something spare them, they've done nothing wrong, one of the girls was holding a knife to her own throat her eyes looking into some other world

He woke just after sunrise. For a lack of anything else to do he rolled out of bed. There were only two days his first fight, after all, and it was probably about time to see if any of his strength remained.

He looked over at Cassius, he was still breathing at least.

[MythicDusk]

He woke with a start, dreams of blood and pain filling him, making his limbs heavy and his scars burn- maybe it wasn't his scars that burned, maybe it was the gaping wound in his torso that filled his limbs with weight. Either way, Cassius felt like shit.

He rolled his head to the side, seeing the empty bed he grunted softly to himself. He wouldn't let a unblooded gaul prick show him up, he would still go to training, no matter how much he ached. Plus, he didn't really fancy a whipping with his chest torn open.

So, slowly and carefully, Cassius rose, wincing at every pull on his wound, staggering out into the sunlight like a rich man's son after his first visit to the brothel.

[Mousen]

Louernios stood over a man who was clutching a bloody nose with one hand and holding a wooden practise sword in the other. "You said you wanted to fight, friend." His tone of voice suggested the man in front of him was not a friend at all. The man grunted and pushed himself to his feet, he took another swing at Louernios who stepped to the side, and then again.

In the morning light, it was clear that Louernios had tidied himself up, his hair was tied back, the matted bits cut out, and his beard trimmed. He no longer looked like a cornered wild animal. The man opposite him was shorter than him but much broader. He hissed in frustration as he missed yet again. Louernios had not tried to return the blow yet.

"I said first blood. I think you've lost already." Louernios considered his sparring partner and sighed. He flung the wooden practise sword to the ground, deflected his blow with one hand and delivered a blow to the man's stomach, winding him. He doubled over, coughing.

Louernios caught the doctore's eyes, they seemed to be deciding if Louernios needed to be taught a lesson. He tilted his jaw up and raised his eyebrows. "Quid?" What? He wouldn't be able to get away with such displays for long, but he really couldn't find it within himself to give a shit.

[MythicDusk]

Cassius practically stalked across the sands. Pads of muscle moving under scarred skin, his back bowed to relieve as much tension as he could on his chest. Halfway across the sands, he straightened up, pulled his shoulders back, pulled back his arim and swing for the back of Louernios' head with an open-hand hit. It was more the kind of hit a father figure would give a child, or someone may give a misbehaving dog, but even so, he gave it.

"Stop being a prick, Gaul. You'll end up worse than me if you do that." He continued walking past, snarling like a beast at the man on the ground who scampered away. Even a wounded lion, with shoulders cast in copper and blood on his teeth, was still a lion, and Cassius was the lion of the sands.

He bent slowly, picking up the weighted training sword, swinging it carefully, slowly, testing his limits and his reach. "You wanted a fight, didn't you?" He grinned, something wild and deadly. It was less of a show of friendship or companionship that they had shared the night before, more a display of ferality. "Show me you can survive, Louernios." He growled, low in his ruined chest.

[Mousen]

Louernios swore under his breath as he felt a blow to the back of his head, and spun round on his heels. He was surprised to see Cassius stood there, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. "You shouldn't be out here," he said. He wanted to tell the Etruscan to go back to bed, but considering their situation, even essential rest was probably forbidden to them.

His frown only deepened as Cassius picked up the training sword. He gave no attention to the man who ran away as Cassius snarled. He watched him test his reach, looked over the bandages that hid his injury away. He fought the urge to roll his eyes, say something that'd only make Cassius more stubborn. "I will not fight you, friend." His palms were open, as if held up in surrender. "But you may try to hit me, if you'd like."