[Mousen]

Louernios filled up a shallow wooden cup with water, and had the presence of mind to bring over a damp cloth to wipe the sweat from his brow. For a moment he was put in mind of the cunning woman that had treat such injuries back home. What was he doing? Perhaps he was just tired of suffering and in dire need to do something other than run through the events of the past few weeks.

As he looked down at the gladiator, he could see the tears making tracks down his face. There was no real comfort he could offer him. He went to place a hand on his shoulder, any gesture of solidarity, any kindness and stopped himself. There was no room for such comforts.

"Friend," he said, "You'll have to sit up slightly to drink. Let me help."

[MythicDusk]

Cassius found himself thinking that he would rather drown. He wondered for a moment where that thought had come from. His brain was like honey, thick and syrupy. He swallowed against the dryness in his thriat as he slowly, carefully anked himself upwards, just enough to allow himself to drink before he motioned to Louernios to hand him the cup.

The pain was immense, in his throat, in his wound, in his heart. For a moment, he truly thought he was going to die. He found himself afraid. He inhaled tightly through his nose, deciding to not let the fear in him be seen. If he mentioned his fear of death, his Dominus would consider his spirit broken, perhaps sell him on, perhaps use him as a living palus for boys to bloody their blades on.

After all, nobody got free from this ludus.

[Mousen]

Louernios rolled his eyes at the man's stubbornness, but handed him the cup. "Slowly. Sip it. Try not to be sick." He watched him for a moment, still covered in dirt and tried blood and headed to get the medicus. He'd fallen asleep, so Louernios had to shake him awake. He came to his senses quickly and was soon tending to his patient again, he looked up to say something to Louernios but he'd already slipped from the room.

"Hm. That's a loyal friend you have there. Stayed all night to watch over you," the medicus said.

He retired to his room, a small cell with two wooden cots in it. He stared at the wall and wondered who else occupied this room. Perhaps they were already dead, or perhaps they had not yet been bought. He closed his eyes.

He watched one friend cut down from their horse, and then another, and another. Atrixtos. Reticus. Catuenus. The first buildings were starting to burn. They were loosing. They were going to die.

He woke up shivering and buried his head in his hands. He couldn't decide if the pain he was feeling was grief, or a desperate regret that he didn't join them.

[MythicDusk]

Cassius staggered into his cell, the medicus had sent him on his way, after all, the wound could no longer be stitched, the blood had clotted. Everything else was up to the gods to decide. Up to his body to continue fighting, as it had all its life.

He was surprised to feel that his knees were weak as he walked. He should be surprised he wasn't crawling, surprised he wasn't vomiting from pain with every other step.

When he stood, took account of the cell, he saw a form in the other bed, he blinked slowly and saw his friend, the man who stood over him when he woke, who offered him water and aid.

He wondered for a moment if he was dead, and this was the suffering he was to have for eternity and a day.

"You're in my bed." It was all he could manage to crumble before he carefully lay in the other bed, exhaustion making his limbs shake.

[Mousen]

Louernios flinched away from his half-sleep as the gladiator walked in. He felt his head hit the back wall, and made a sound of discomfort. It took him a moment longer than he would have liked, to put the pieces together. He could still feel the dreams around him, clinging to him like sweat.

But of course, of course it was this man occupying the other bed. Wobbling back to bed like a half-dead tom cat. Louernious found himself smiling at the comment, the flash of his teeth visible in the dark.

"I've never had anyone complain about that before," he retorted. "You can have it back tomorrow."

With any luck, the poor sod wouldn't die in the night. He was almost beginning to enjoy winding him up.

[MythicDusk]

Cassius found it in himself to laugh, a low, throaty sound that made everything in him ache. After a moment, he hissed in pain as he carefully lay on his back, his fingers tracing idly over the edge of the stitched wound. He almost revelled in the ache of the tender flesh as his fingers brushed against it.

Pain reminded him he was alive.

"Don't make me laugh, you gaul bastard. It hurts like your mother's nails down my back."

He grinned into the dark. Maybe it was a step too far, maybe this gaul, Louernos, would laugh along with him, maybe they would share jibes deep into the night.

It didn't occur to Cassius that he had learned the other man's name.

[Mousen]

Louernios was surprised to hear him laugh, expecting another sigh or reprimand or just silence as the gladiator settled into sleep. He had not been expecting him to return the joke. Louernios had never been easily offended, even now with all the family he'd ever known gone and him stuck in this place. But he was tired enough that even his own laughter seemed to catch him off guard, a low, warm sound.

"Oh aye," he caught his breath, eyes bright with mischief. "I didn't know you'd got the medicus to fix your sense of humour, friend. If they're that good, maybe they can do something about the rest of you." Louernious could feel his accent slipping, his clipped taught Latin shifting into the harsher vowels of his home.

[MythicDusk]

"And deny you the sight of all my scars? Now why would I do that?" His own eyes were bright as he carefully turned his head, as he shifted in the rough bed to not pull at his wounds, new or old. "Unless you mean my face, of course. There's no hope for that."

He carefully rose a hand, as if to brush the air aside to make way for his own remark. "You know, I used to have so many Gaulish women in my bed. They would say," his voice pitched into a high trill, mimicking an effeminate voice. "'Oh, Cassius! We had this one Gaul prince, and his cock was the size of a thumbnail!'"

His delighted eyes shone in the dark, along with his teeth. "Was that you, or is every gaulish prince just hung like a mouse?"

[Mousen]

Louernios snorted, rolling his eyes.

"Aye, trying to comfort you after a disappointing night?" he retorted. He mimicked his own version of Cassius' Gaulish woman. "Oh, don't worry we swear we've seen someone smaller than you. There's no need to be embarrassed."

He looked over at Cassius through the dark, resting his hands behind his head. "Or are you so bored that you're--" What the fuck was that in Latin? That word. "Ugh. Your language. I feel like its winning its battle against me." He closed his eyes for a moment. "Tell me, what is the appeal of a language that sounds like stones being bashed together?" Still, it was good to know that even a man on death's door was more eloquent with this ridiculous tongue than he was.

[MythicDusk]

He couldn't help his grin at the comment of his cock size. Anyone else would have had their head staved in for it. Maybe injuries made him soft, maybe it was all the wine he had been given to numb the pain. Mayve it was the sticky, sour black salve that they had rubbed on his gums.

His smile faded at the mention of the language. He spoke, a language similar but different enough to be unrecognisable. After a moment he let his voice fade into silence, his tongue licking at his dry lips as his eyes lidded. "It is just as much my language as it is yours."

[Mousen]

"My mistake. Etruscan, right?" Cassius looked like a Roman and spoke Latin like a Roman, but that didn't make him one, as easy as it was for Louernios to forget that. "When was the last you heard it? The last time someone spoke to you in Etruscan."

He turned over, shifting into a more comfortable position. "You don't have to answer. I..." he was too tired to keep up much of a facade, the ability to filter what he was saying long gone. "It's been months, maybe? Since someone spoke to me in Gaulish. I used to hear it everyday. Funny, what you miss."

[MythicDusk]

He hummed in thought for a moment. The last time he'd had a true conversation in Etruscan was when he was home, before being sold into slavery by his filth-fucker of a father. Even as he thought it, he wasn't angry about it. It was a situation of need. He just wished that his father had sold himself, rather than throw his son's lifetime away.

"The last time I heard Etruscan was from the man who used to own this bed." He thunked a fist lightly on the straw, his face drawn in the darkness. "He learned a few words, mostly cusses. We kept eachother's spirits up that way, swapping rude sentences back and forth." He gave a sickly smile as the memory of watching his friend, his head bowed, his shoulder leaning against the thigh of his opponent, his arms wrapped around his leg, watching the senator give a hard jab with his thumb into his neck. He swallowed hard as he remembered how his form had shook when the sword went in.

Slowly, he exhaled a breath he didn't even realise he was holding. "Allow me to give you advice, Louernios. Don't make friends."

[Mousen]

"Ah," Louernios said softly. He'd known he was almost certainly been replacing a dead man somewhere, he just didn't expect it to be quite as literal as taking the bed he used to sleep on. There was little use treading around sore subjects here, Louernios realised. If it wasn't one tragedy, it was another. "That's a shame."

Perhaps he'd only hear Gaullish again when teaching someone else it's cusses. It seemed an impossibility that he'd never see home again, that he wouldn't wake up into the cold, damp air of home, the rolling hills and thick forests. That was gone, however much he wanted to deny it. Even as there was a part of him saying run, plan an escape, get out, there was another realising that there wasn't much to go back to.

Lost in thought, it took him a moment to realise what had been said, but when he did he sat up a bit, look of mischief in his eyes. "You may be right, friend, but I still don't know your name and you seemed to have memorised mine."

[MythicDusk]

Cassius laughed. He couldn't help it. The gaul bastard was right. "Ah, fuck you." It was really the only thing he knew in gaulish. Even then, he didn't get all of the sounds correct. It was a vicious language to someone who only learned the vaguest of cusses. He grinned to his new cellmate, hoping it would be enough to settle his homeward soul.

"They call me Heracles on the sand, or some such shit. I'm just glad I don't have to deal with Achilles or Hyppotoles." He snorted slightly at his show name. A name that came from broad shoulders and how the first match he had won was with nothing but a vlub of olive wood. "My mother named me Cassius."

[Mousen]

Louernios' eyes lit up at the sound of the gladiator swearing at him in badly-accented Gaulish. "Not bad! If you wanted to sound like a dying goat. Your accent is terrible." He was smiling all the same. Louernios was surprised his persistence had paid dividends, or perhaps it was Cassius' exhaustion and considerable set of injuries that were making him pleasant to be around. "It's kyj dhe-ves."

"Heracles?" He asked, raising his eyebrows. "If they're that inventive, I'll be called Boudicca by the end of the week." Gods, he really hoped not. Maybe they'd remember a famous male Gaul to name him after. There were a few chieftains known in Rome, or so he'd heard. "Cassius? I'll remember it."