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Maximus stared at the half filled parchment on his desk, the words were jumbled onto it along with violent lines crossing over some of the words. Maximus was half-tempted to throw out the piece of paper and start over. Grinding his teeth, Maximus stared at the crumpled balls of paper surrounding his desk. The young man always kept his room neat and tidy as befits a soldier but the frustration over what he was trying to write was boiling over. Of all the blasted things that Maximus had trouble with was to create a poem. In addition to fighting, soldiers were good poets talking about the glory of war in between.
It was a wonderful mix duty and intellectualism a dynamic which separates the Greek soldier from a common Barbarian something Maximus struggled with. He had read many how to guides on how to write poems, consulted with writers in the Agora and asked for his mother's help but nothing was sticking. Whenever Maximus writes something, the words would never flow properly to the parchment. The young man never received training for this and his father was so focused on being a soldier that he rarely had time to write poems.
Maximus sighed and looked outside. It was a sunny day in Laconia, the sun's bright rays shone through the window of Maximus' room. The young man took a week off from training to rest up his sore body, he was going to enlist in the Fifth Phalanx in a couple of months and the last thing that Maximus did not was an injury. His father approved of this decision stating that even the fiercest warriors needed to rest every now and then. Maximus wanted to expand his skillset so he could have something to do other than physical activities. Poetry was the first thing that came to mind, since Celine and Adelpha loved them something Maximus found strange. "This is a woman's job!" the young man grumbled staring at the paper. Many men were good poets as well but women seemed to be the ones who consumed poetry.
"Come on....." Maximus dipped his pen into the ink bottle. "Form words for me please."
Closing his eyes, Maximus began to write again:
You are blood rushing down a mountain,
Spirit of hate, greed and anger,
dominator of heaven and earth!
Yes! That's it! Maximus could feel his mind pulsating and his body feeling a rush of energy. Smiling, the young man scribbled more onto the paper.
men are scattered and smeared over the desert grass,
And the generals have accomplished nothing.
Okay what comes next? Maximus closed frowned staring at the words and tried to peer deep into mind but no diction came out. "Damn!" Maximus slammed his fist on to the wooden desk seething with anger. He shook his head as he placed his head down the smell of ink invading his nostrils.
That was the first he cursed in his life, this cursed poem has gotten the best of him.
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"Argh!"
Maximus stared at the half filled parchment on his desk, the words were jumbled onto it along with violent lines crossing over some of the words. Maximus was half-tempted to throw out the piece of paper and start over. Grinding his teeth, Maximus stared at the crumpled balls of paper surrounding his desk. The young man always kept his room neat and tidy as befits a soldier but the frustration over what he was trying to write was boiling over. Of all the blasted things that Maximus had trouble with was to create a poem. In addition to fighting, soldiers were good poets talking about the glory of war in between.
It was a wonderful mix duty and intellectualism a dynamic which separates the Greek soldier from a common Barbarian something Maximus struggled with. He had read many how to guides on how to write poems, consulted with writers in the Agora and asked for his mother's help but nothing was sticking. Whenever Maximus writes something, the words would never flow properly to the parchment. The young man never received training for this and his father was so focused on being a soldier that he rarely had time to write poems.
Maximus sighed and looked outside. It was a sunny day in Laconia, the sun's bright rays shone through the window of Maximus' room. The young man took a week off from training to rest up his sore body, he was going to enlist in the Fifth Phalanx in a couple of months and the last thing that Maximus did not was an injury. His father approved of this decision stating that even the fiercest warriors needed to rest every now and then. Maximus wanted to expand his skillset so he could have something to do other than physical activities. Poetry was the first thing that came to mind, since Celine and Adelpha loved them something Maximus found strange. "This is a woman's job!" the young man grumbled staring at the paper. Many men were good poets as well but women seemed to be the ones who consumed poetry.
"Come on....." Maximus dipped his pen into the ink bottle. "Form words for me please."
Closing his eyes, Maximus began to write again:
You are blood rushing down a mountain,
Spirit of hate, greed and anger,
dominator of heaven and earth!
Yes! That's it! Maximus could feel his mind pulsating and his body feeling a rush of energy. Smiling, the young man scribbled more onto the paper.
men are scattered and smeared over the desert grass,
And the generals have accomplished nothing.
Okay what comes next? Maximus closed frowned staring at the words and tried to peer deep into mind but no diction came out. "Damn!" Maximus slammed his fist on to the wooden desk seething with anger. He shook his head as he placed his head down the smell of ink invading his nostrils.
That was the first he cursed in his life, this cursed poem has gotten the best of him.
"Argh!"
Maximus stared at the half filled parchment on his desk, the words were jumbled onto it along with violent lines crossing over some of the words. Maximus was half-tempted to throw out the piece of paper and start over. Grinding his teeth, Maximus stared at the crumpled balls of paper surrounding his desk. The young man always kept his room neat and tidy as befits a soldier but the frustration over what he was trying to write was boiling over. Of all the blasted things that Maximus had trouble with was to create a poem. In addition to fighting, soldiers were good poets talking about the glory of war in between.
It was a wonderful mix duty and intellectualism a dynamic which separates the Greek soldier from a common Barbarian something Maximus struggled with. He had read many how to guides on how to write poems, consulted with writers in the Agora and asked for his mother's help but nothing was sticking. Whenever Maximus writes something, the words would never flow properly to the parchment. The young man never received training for this and his father was so focused on being a soldier that he rarely had time to write poems.
Maximus sighed and looked outside. It was a sunny day in Laconia, the sun's bright rays shone through the window of Maximus' room. The young man took a week off from training to rest up his sore body, he was going to enlist in the Fifth Phalanx in a couple of months and the last thing that Maximus did not was an injury. His father approved of this decision stating that even the fiercest warriors needed to rest every now and then. Maximus wanted to expand his skillset so he could have something to do other than physical activities. Poetry was the first thing that came to mind, since Celine and Adelpha loved them something Maximus found strange. "This is a woman's job!" the young man grumbled staring at the paper. Many men were good poets as well but women seemed to be the ones who consumed poetry.
"Come on....." Maximus dipped his pen into the ink bottle. "Form words for me please."
Closing his eyes, Maximus began to write again:
You are blood rushing down a mountain,
Spirit of hate, greed and anger,
dominator of heaven and earth!
Yes! That's it! Maximus could feel his mind pulsating and his body feeling a rush of energy. Smiling, the young man scribbled more onto the paper.
men are scattered and smeared over the desert grass,
And the generals have accomplished nothing.
Okay what comes next? Maximus closed frowned staring at the words and tried to peer deep into mind but no diction came out. "Damn!" Maximus slammed his fist on to the wooden desk seething with anger. He shook his head as he placed his head down the smell of ink invading his nostrils.
That was the first he cursed in his life, this cursed poem has gotten the best of him.
The time spent in Midas while in court this time had indeed been productive for Celine. She'd made a new friend, who was probably just as much of a bookworm as she was if not more, and she'd had a chat with a priestess in Aphrodite's temple. It must have meant something, because surely, when she'd returned last week, the gods must have blessed her love for Maximus by giving her a sign he cared, too. That dress....
It was revealing, and Celine was a little unsure how acceptable it would be to wear it in court the next time she went, but privately, she liked it. While she tried to be as formal as court required, being an ambassador's daughter, she was far too adventurous a girl to always like being so...stuffed into her clothing. The exposed back took a little getting used to, but on the whole, Celine found it nice- and her legs were freer to move about as well, it seemed.
Because it was a gift from the one she loved- but wasn't quite sure how to tell without being scarred for life if he didn't feel the same way- she found the freedom of the dress tasted even sweeter.
He'd told her he was going to take a week off training, and she missed him. She was totally new at what others might call 'sending signals', that was, sending signals intentionally. But since he'd said he liked her in this dress, wearing it today to see him might get him to notice her, if he hadn't already. The dress had been bought because of the incident with Brutus the hound, but today was the first day she'd planned to wear it. She really had no plans other than to be near him, though, nothing set in stone. Then again, in love, wasn't just being near the one you loved soothing?
She paused at the door to adjust a few stray curls before they got caught in her earrings before going in and asking where Maximus was.
"Hey. I've missed you." It might be a little blunt, but she couldn't think of how else to put it. But he presumably knew she liked to watch him train...in fact she sometimes wondered if having her there gave him more energy to get through his exercises.
"What are you doing?" It was so unusual for Celine to even picture, let alone to find, Maximus sitting behind a desk that she was instantly curious. She came closer to examine his...well... mess. For what else would one call a bunch of crumpled paper on a desk? He'd soon have the entire desk covered and no room to work if he didn't put that used paper somewhere. Celine had always felt some pressure to be at least perceived as neat and organized- it seemed to make people respect someone better, and as someone who knew people from many different cultures, that kind of respect was important to Celine. Max might believe differently, though, but even if the mess was just a consequence of what he was doing, she had to wonder what would so occupy him that he seemed to her to notice little else at present.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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The time spent in Midas while in court this time had indeed been productive for Celine. She'd made a new friend, who was probably just as much of a bookworm as she was if not more, and she'd had a chat with a priestess in Aphrodite's temple. It must have meant something, because surely, when she'd returned last week, the gods must have blessed her love for Maximus by giving her a sign he cared, too. That dress....
It was revealing, and Celine was a little unsure how acceptable it would be to wear it in court the next time she went, but privately, she liked it. While she tried to be as formal as court required, being an ambassador's daughter, she was far too adventurous a girl to always like being so...stuffed into her clothing. The exposed back took a little getting used to, but on the whole, Celine found it nice- and her legs were freer to move about as well, it seemed.
Because it was a gift from the one she loved- but wasn't quite sure how to tell without being scarred for life if he didn't feel the same way- she found the freedom of the dress tasted even sweeter.
He'd told her he was going to take a week off training, and she missed him. She was totally new at what others might call 'sending signals', that was, sending signals intentionally. But since he'd said he liked her in this dress, wearing it today to see him might get him to notice her, if he hadn't already. The dress had been bought because of the incident with Brutus the hound, but today was the first day she'd planned to wear it. She really had no plans other than to be near him, though, nothing set in stone. Then again, in love, wasn't just being near the one you loved soothing?
She paused at the door to adjust a few stray curls before they got caught in her earrings before going in and asking where Maximus was.
"Hey. I've missed you." It might be a little blunt, but she couldn't think of how else to put it. But he presumably knew she liked to watch him train...in fact she sometimes wondered if having her there gave him more energy to get through his exercises.
"What are you doing?" It was so unusual for Celine to even picture, let alone to find, Maximus sitting behind a desk that she was instantly curious. She came closer to examine his...well... mess. For what else would one call a bunch of crumpled paper on a desk? He'd soon have the entire desk covered and no room to work if he didn't put that used paper somewhere. Celine had always felt some pressure to be at least perceived as neat and organized- it seemed to make people respect someone better, and as someone who knew people from many different cultures, that kind of respect was important to Celine. Max might believe differently, though, but even if the mess was just a consequence of what he was doing, she had to wonder what would so occupy him that he seemed to her to notice little else at present.
The time spent in Midas while in court this time had indeed been productive for Celine. She'd made a new friend, who was probably just as much of a bookworm as she was if not more, and she'd had a chat with a priestess in Aphrodite's temple. It must have meant something, because surely, when she'd returned last week, the gods must have blessed her love for Maximus by giving her a sign he cared, too. That dress....
It was revealing, and Celine was a little unsure how acceptable it would be to wear it in court the next time she went, but privately, she liked it. While she tried to be as formal as court required, being an ambassador's daughter, she was far too adventurous a girl to always like being so...stuffed into her clothing. The exposed back took a little getting used to, but on the whole, Celine found it nice- and her legs were freer to move about as well, it seemed.
Because it was a gift from the one she loved- but wasn't quite sure how to tell without being scarred for life if he didn't feel the same way- she found the freedom of the dress tasted even sweeter.
He'd told her he was going to take a week off training, and she missed him. She was totally new at what others might call 'sending signals', that was, sending signals intentionally. But since he'd said he liked her in this dress, wearing it today to see him might get him to notice her, if he hadn't already. The dress had been bought because of the incident with Brutus the hound, but today was the first day she'd planned to wear it. She really had no plans other than to be near him, though, nothing set in stone. Then again, in love, wasn't just being near the one you loved soothing?
She paused at the door to adjust a few stray curls before they got caught in her earrings before going in and asking where Maximus was.
"Hey. I've missed you." It might be a little blunt, but she couldn't think of how else to put it. But he presumably knew she liked to watch him train...in fact she sometimes wondered if having her there gave him more energy to get through his exercises.
"What are you doing?" It was so unusual for Celine to even picture, let alone to find, Maximus sitting behind a desk that she was instantly curious. She came closer to examine his...well... mess. For what else would one call a bunch of crumpled paper on a desk? He'd soon have the entire desk covered and no room to work if he didn't put that used paper somewhere. Celine had always felt some pressure to be at least perceived as neat and organized- it seemed to make people respect someone better, and as someone who knew people from many different cultures, that kind of respect was important to Celine. Max might believe differently, though, but even if the mess was just a consequence of what he was doing, she had to wonder what would so occupy him that he seemed to her to notice little else at present.
Maximus turned around the moment he heard the door opened, his eyebrows raised a little seeing Celine come wearing the dress that he bought for him last week. She looked radiant with the multicolored chiton, the sun reflected on her dress and the earrings that Maximus gave her on her 15th birthday. Celine looked like a different person a more beautiful and confident woman compared to the shy and withdrawn person who only communicates with him, Adelpha and Basil. "I've missed you too Celine," Maximus smiled at her adjusting his position in the chair. "By Ares you look beautiful wearing that dress! I'm amazed Celine you appear more confident and bolder."
The young man realized what he said looked down on the ground. "I'm sorry Celine," he said hastily. "I shouldn't have said that I hope I haven't offended you." Celine was a strong woman enduring a tragic fire in her childhood. Although she was adverse to touch, Celine managed to overcome it through forging a friendship with Maximus. The moment he kissed her hand, Maximus knew that he formed a bond with Celine.
"Well," the young man sighed turning to the poem. "I've been trying to write poetry."
Maximus then dug his fingernail onto the wooden desk. "I know what you're about to say," he grumbled knowing that Celine would tease over this. "You're going to say: What's this? The soldier Maximus writing a poem even though he said that poetry is for girls? Oh the irony! You're getting in touch with your fememine side Max!"
He knew that Celine was sharper than that, but he had to get it out of his system. "And I'm pretty sure you think I would write a love poem about you and I wish I could but the thing is."
Maximus stared at the paper again. "I stink at writing poetry." He lamented wanting to snap his pen in half. "Words aren't flowing from my mind like yours when you write poetry. I need your help Celine."
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Maximus turned around the moment he heard the door opened, his eyebrows raised a little seeing Celine come wearing the dress that he bought for him last week. She looked radiant with the multicolored chiton, the sun reflected on her dress and the earrings that Maximus gave her on her 15th birthday. Celine looked like a different person a more beautiful and confident woman compared to the shy and withdrawn person who only communicates with him, Adelpha and Basil. "I've missed you too Celine," Maximus smiled at her adjusting his position in the chair. "By Ares you look beautiful wearing that dress! I'm amazed Celine you appear more confident and bolder."
The young man realized what he said looked down on the ground. "I'm sorry Celine," he said hastily. "I shouldn't have said that I hope I haven't offended you." Celine was a strong woman enduring a tragic fire in her childhood. Although she was adverse to touch, Celine managed to overcome it through forging a friendship with Maximus. The moment he kissed her hand, Maximus knew that he formed a bond with Celine.
"Well," the young man sighed turning to the poem. "I've been trying to write poetry."
Maximus then dug his fingernail onto the wooden desk. "I know what you're about to say," he grumbled knowing that Celine would tease over this. "You're going to say: What's this? The soldier Maximus writing a poem even though he said that poetry is for girls? Oh the irony! You're getting in touch with your fememine side Max!"
He knew that Celine was sharper than that, but he had to get it out of his system. "And I'm pretty sure you think I would write a love poem about you and I wish I could but the thing is."
Maximus stared at the paper again. "I stink at writing poetry." He lamented wanting to snap his pen in half. "Words aren't flowing from my mind like yours when you write poetry. I need your help Celine."
Maximus turned around the moment he heard the door opened, his eyebrows raised a little seeing Celine come wearing the dress that he bought for him last week. She looked radiant with the multicolored chiton, the sun reflected on her dress and the earrings that Maximus gave her on her 15th birthday. Celine looked like a different person a more beautiful and confident woman compared to the shy and withdrawn person who only communicates with him, Adelpha and Basil. "I've missed you too Celine," Maximus smiled at her adjusting his position in the chair. "By Ares you look beautiful wearing that dress! I'm amazed Celine you appear more confident and bolder."
The young man realized what he said looked down on the ground. "I'm sorry Celine," he said hastily. "I shouldn't have said that I hope I haven't offended you." Celine was a strong woman enduring a tragic fire in her childhood. Although she was adverse to touch, Celine managed to overcome it through forging a friendship with Maximus. The moment he kissed her hand, Maximus knew that he formed a bond with Celine.
"Well," the young man sighed turning to the poem. "I've been trying to write poetry."
Maximus then dug his fingernail onto the wooden desk. "I know what you're about to say," he grumbled knowing that Celine would tease over this. "You're going to say: What's this? The soldier Maximus writing a poem even though he said that poetry is for girls? Oh the irony! You're getting in touch with your fememine side Max!"
He knew that Celine was sharper than that, but he had to get it out of his system. "And I'm pretty sure you think I would write a love poem about you and I wish I could but the thing is."
Maximus stared at the paper again. "I stink at writing poetry." He lamented wanting to snap his pen in half. "Words aren't flowing from my mind like yours when you write poetry. I need your help Celine."
She wasn't offended by his statement that she looked bolder and more confident at all. In a way, she supposed it was true. Could the right clothing do that? She couldn't remember ever really caring, at least not overly much, she thought, but she did happen to think that she felt more like herself with only slippers- or with no shoes at all- and in lighter fabrics than she did when she wore heavier fabrics and shoes.
She smiled, trying to be reassuring. "No, you're absolutely right- I am unsure whether or not to wear it for court occasions, but it does feel more like me."
She shook her head, though, at his assuming she would think poetry was a feminine pastime. "No. Actually, far more women seem to read poetry than write it," she observed. It was the way of the world, was it not?
But then time froze, and she didn't hear a word after
'And I'm pretty sure you think I would write a love poem about you and I wish I could but the thing is....'
He wished he could? Her heart stuttered.
He did? Was he just saying that? He must be just saying it, surely, because from what she had observed since she realized she might love him, he seemed not to be concerned with finding awoman.
She wanted to ask what he meant by that comment so much that it was practically a physical ache, but she dare not. Even if he meant it- in his thoughts- he might deny it if she asked, and then she'd feel stupid.
As far as her own thoughts on how a potential match might happen, Celine could not see herself getting along with just anyone she met, let alone feeling comfortable with any touching not required by custom (and even then, she was not comfortable with strangers touching her and simply hid her distaste.). Ever. In short, it was possible the only way she would get married at all would be to marry a friend. She knew her father approved of this idea, given that if in the future her life would be under threat again, trust was hard to come by. But that was all the thought she'd given it, really, until last year.
After a little while longer, Max seemed to have stopped speaking, and she startled herself back to the present.
"Oh! Well, let me see here."
She'd just seeif he meant that bit about writing her a love poem. Maybe seeing it would tell her if he'd actually meant what he had just said. At first glance, it didn't look like love poetry, but she had to admit that if one were going to write something, the first rule seemed to be to write about what they knew.
Max knew about war, or at least was in training in case there eventually was war. Maybe if she helped him with this, he'd write her a love poem later, and then she would really know he did want to write her something.
What he'd written was good though, and so vivid that Celine almost felt like she was standing at the foot of a hill watching the battle herself. You are blood rushing down a mountain,
Spirit of hate, greed and anger,
Dominator of heaven and earth!
Men are scattered and smeared over the desert grass,
And the generals have accomplished nothing.
"This is good. But it's possible that if the battlefield is so full of bodies, the city must be even worse. I mean- it could be the defense of a city suddenly overtaken by the enemy, and there's a historian writing down all that happens, watching from a distance," she suggested. "Maybe something like...." Seeing a pen, she dipped the pen into the inkwell and took the paper.
"Even the few darts which may have missed their targets
Have found a home among the new spring flowers,
Singeing Demeter's gifts...." She paused to explain. "It's Ermaios now. The flowers are in bloom. And the physical damage of war doesn't always come from the dead or the dying,"
Darts possibly missing their targets. Possibly. After all, we don't really know how- she thought. Celine's breath caught, and suddenly it was more than a war poem. She had never really felt she had an outlet for expressing those horrible memories of the fire. No one probably would have wanted to see anything she painted or drew if she had gone that route, so she hadn't done that as a matter of course. She hadn't meant to ruin his poem, nor make it about herself and her sister Rhais, in particular, but his own writing had made her want to dsscribe more. This poem might be a legacy of some kind, a piece of Max for her to keep after he left for battle.
A singed spring flower...Rhais' face....The image flashed in Celine's mind's eye. She bit back a scream, and her hands shook as she finished the rest of what seemed to pour from her.
"Will time and fate choose to heal the scarred flowers, And the wounded soldier who grasps them As he thinks of his love? Was it truly only this morning that she'd whispered in passion, I love you, I love you, I love you, ten thousand times and more?"
"Because things can change just that fast,you know." She explained. "At any time, everything can change, and on the other side of the minute thst changed everything is shock and confusion, and surreality. And in the soldier's case, probably the strange feeling of slipping into unconsciousness, as well," she added, because it seemed like a plausible explanation for the soldier on the grass and his shock, but also to remind herself that this really wasn't supposed to be about her.
Her explanations might sound like something one might hear in the halls of the Scholeio, though. If the fire hadn't ruined everything, there might have been a chance for her to go.
And instead, years later, here she was in the house of one of her best friends- whom she now thought of as a potential lover- wondering and not knowing if he felt the same, all because of a comment about love poetry she wasn't sure if he meant because writing poetry at all didn't seem like something he would normally do.
Her hands wouldn't stop shaking. Hurriedly, she pushed the paper away so that what she'd written wouldn't get smudged by the tears that were starting to fall despite the fact that she wasn't trying to cry. She backed away from the desk, shaking, hoping she wouldn't knock something over. Where had all those emotions come from?
"Um... but really, what you've written was very good, and I mean that. I-I didn't mean to add anything you'd rather not. Just change it- throw it away, too, or even rip it to shreds if you'd like." She dabbed at her eyes again. The tears were slipping out, but her body was rigid, even as she trembled. It was as if she thought that if she really let herself become a blubbering mess, she would cause a problem for him somehow.
Rip it to shreds. There's my problem. I don't want my heart to get ripped to shreds. I know this is part of the reason why I've never said anything about love to him, but sweet Aphrodite, it aches whether I say anything or not. What should I do?
"Maybe that would be the best thing. Maybe. Just a suggestion." She seemed to remember then that the poem was not hers- she hadn't started writing it, and it was his decision what to do with it. But it did give her an idea. "If I write them down and then just..." she mimed ripping up a piece of paper. "And throw it to the wind, maybe those memories will go far away. I don't know why I didn't think of it before. I never really felt I had a proper way to grieve all that... the singed flowers... I thought of Rhais' face.... " A broken sob escaped her, one she couldn't stop this time. "Anyway, hopefully that helped. You, I mean." She tried to gulp back the tears. But if her mind was refusing to let her fall apart, her body was equally stubborn in its refusal to stop shaking, and she knew deep down that trying to hold in the tears would be useless, and that her memories did not care if the times they resurfaced were convenient for another person.
The minute he so much as brushed her with a fingertip, she might shatter into a thousand pieces like fragile pottery. But she still wanted to know.
"What did you think?" Even her breath shook as she waited for his response.
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She wasn't offended by his statement that she looked bolder and more confident at all. In a way, she supposed it was true. Could the right clothing do that? She couldn't remember ever really caring, at least not overly much, she thought, but she did happen to think that she felt more like herself with only slippers- or with no shoes at all- and in lighter fabrics than she did when she wore heavier fabrics and shoes.
She smiled, trying to be reassuring. "No, you're absolutely right- I am unsure whether or not to wear it for court occasions, but it does feel more like me."
She shook her head, though, at his assuming she would think poetry was a feminine pastime. "No. Actually, far more women seem to read poetry than write it," she observed. It was the way of the world, was it not?
But then time froze, and she didn't hear a word after
'And I'm pretty sure you think I would write a love poem about you and I wish I could but the thing is....'
He wished he could? Her heart stuttered.
He did? Was he just saying that? He must be just saying it, surely, because from what she had observed since she realized she might love him, he seemed not to be concerned with finding awoman.
She wanted to ask what he meant by that comment so much that it was practically a physical ache, but she dare not. Even if he meant it- in his thoughts- he might deny it if she asked, and then she'd feel stupid.
As far as her own thoughts on how a potential match might happen, Celine could not see herself getting along with just anyone she met, let alone feeling comfortable with any touching not required by custom (and even then, she was not comfortable with strangers touching her and simply hid her distaste.). Ever. In short, it was possible the only way she would get married at all would be to marry a friend. She knew her father approved of this idea, given that if in the future her life would be under threat again, trust was hard to come by. But that was all the thought she'd given it, really, until last year.
After a little while longer, Max seemed to have stopped speaking, and she startled herself back to the present.
"Oh! Well, let me see here."
She'd just seeif he meant that bit about writing her a love poem. Maybe seeing it would tell her if he'd actually meant what he had just said. At first glance, it didn't look like love poetry, but she had to admit that if one were going to write something, the first rule seemed to be to write about what they knew.
Max knew about war, or at least was in training in case there eventually was war. Maybe if she helped him with this, he'd write her a love poem later, and then she would really know he did want to write her something.
What he'd written was good though, and so vivid that Celine almost felt like she was standing at the foot of a hill watching the battle herself. You are blood rushing down a mountain,
Spirit of hate, greed and anger,
Dominator of heaven and earth!
Men are scattered and smeared over the desert grass,
And the generals have accomplished nothing.
"This is good. But it's possible that if the battlefield is so full of bodies, the city must be even worse. I mean- it could be the defense of a city suddenly overtaken by the enemy, and there's a historian writing down all that happens, watching from a distance," she suggested. "Maybe something like...." Seeing a pen, she dipped the pen into the inkwell and took the paper.
"Even the few darts which may have missed their targets
Have found a home among the new spring flowers,
Singeing Demeter's gifts...." She paused to explain. "It's Ermaios now. The flowers are in bloom. And the physical damage of war doesn't always come from the dead or the dying,"
Darts possibly missing their targets. Possibly. After all, we don't really know how- she thought. Celine's breath caught, and suddenly it was more than a war poem. She had never really felt she had an outlet for expressing those horrible memories of the fire. No one probably would have wanted to see anything she painted or drew if she had gone that route, so she hadn't done that as a matter of course. She hadn't meant to ruin his poem, nor make it about herself and her sister Rhais, in particular, but his own writing had made her want to dsscribe more. This poem might be a legacy of some kind, a piece of Max for her to keep after he left for battle.
A singed spring flower...Rhais' face....The image flashed in Celine's mind's eye. She bit back a scream, and her hands shook as she finished the rest of what seemed to pour from her.
"Will time and fate choose to heal the scarred flowers, And the wounded soldier who grasps them As he thinks of his love? Was it truly only this morning that she'd whispered in passion, I love you, I love you, I love you, ten thousand times and more?"
"Because things can change just that fast,you know." She explained. "At any time, everything can change, and on the other side of the minute thst changed everything is shock and confusion, and surreality. And in the soldier's case, probably the strange feeling of slipping into unconsciousness, as well," she added, because it seemed like a plausible explanation for the soldier on the grass and his shock, but also to remind herself that this really wasn't supposed to be about her.
Her explanations might sound like something one might hear in the halls of the Scholeio, though. If the fire hadn't ruined everything, there might have been a chance for her to go.
And instead, years later, here she was in the house of one of her best friends- whom she now thought of as a potential lover- wondering and not knowing if he felt the same, all because of a comment about love poetry she wasn't sure if he meant because writing poetry at all didn't seem like something he would normally do.
Her hands wouldn't stop shaking. Hurriedly, she pushed the paper away so that what she'd written wouldn't get smudged by the tears that were starting to fall despite the fact that she wasn't trying to cry. She backed away from the desk, shaking, hoping she wouldn't knock something over. Where had all those emotions come from?
"Um... but really, what you've written was very good, and I mean that. I-I didn't mean to add anything you'd rather not. Just change it- throw it away, too, or even rip it to shreds if you'd like." She dabbed at her eyes again. The tears were slipping out, but her body was rigid, even as she trembled. It was as if she thought that if she really let herself become a blubbering mess, she would cause a problem for him somehow.
Rip it to shreds. There's my problem. I don't want my heart to get ripped to shreds. I know this is part of the reason why I've never said anything about love to him, but sweet Aphrodite, it aches whether I say anything or not. What should I do?
"Maybe that would be the best thing. Maybe. Just a suggestion." She seemed to remember then that the poem was not hers- she hadn't started writing it, and it was his decision what to do with it. But it did give her an idea. "If I write them down and then just..." she mimed ripping up a piece of paper. "And throw it to the wind, maybe those memories will go far away. I don't know why I didn't think of it before. I never really felt I had a proper way to grieve all that... the singed flowers... I thought of Rhais' face.... " A broken sob escaped her, one she couldn't stop this time. "Anyway, hopefully that helped. You, I mean." She tried to gulp back the tears. But if her mind was refusing to let her fall apart, her body was equally stubborn in its refusal to stop shaking, and she knew deep down that trying to hold in the tears would be useless, and that her memories did not care if the times they resurfaced were convenient for another person.
The minute he so much as brushed her with a fingertip, she might shatter into a thousand pieces like fragile pottery. But she still wanted to know.
"What did you think?" Even her breath shook as she waited for his response.
She wasn't offended by his statement that she looked bolder and more confident at all. In a way, she supposed it was true. Could the right clothing do that? She couldn't remember ever really caring, at least not overly much, she thought, but she did happen to think that she felt more like herself with only slippers- or with no shoes at all- and in lighter fabrics than she did when she wore heavier fabrics and shoes.
She smiled, trying to be reassuring. "No, you're absolutely right- I am unsure whether or not to wear it for court occasions, but it does feel more like me."
She shook her head, though, at his assuming she would think poetry was a feminine pastime. "No. Actually, far more women seem to read poetry than write it," she observed. It was the way of the world, was it not?
But then time froze, and she didn't hear a word after
'And I'm pretty sure you think I would write a love poem about you and I wish I could but the thing is....'
He wished he could? Her heart stuttered.
He did? Was he just saying that? He must be just saying it, surely, because from what she had observed since she realized she might love him, he seemed not to be concerned with finding awoman.
She wanted to ask what he meant by that comment so much that it was practically a physical ache, but she dare not. Even if he meant it- in his thoughts- he might deny it if she asked, and then she'd feel stupid.
As far as her own thoughts on how a potential match might happen, Celine could not see herself getting along with just anyone she met, let alone feeling comfortable with any touching not required by custom (and even then, she was not comfortable with strangers touching her and simply hid her distaste.). Ever. In short, it was possible the only way she would get married at all would be to marry a friend. She knew her father approved of this idea, given that if in the future her life would be under threat again, trust was hard to come by. But that was all the thought she'd given it, really, until last year.
After a little while longer, Max seemed to have stopped speaking, and she startled herself back to the present.
"Oh! Well, let me see here."
She'd just seeif he meant that bit about writing her a love poem. Maybe seeing it would tell her if he'd actually meant what he had just said. At first glance, it didn't look like love poetry, but she had to admit that if one were going to write something, the first rule seemed to be to write about what they knew.
Max knew about war, or at least was in training in case there eventually was war. Maybe if she helped him with this, he'd write her a love poem later, and then she would really know he did want to write her something.
What he'd written was good though, and so vivid that Celine almost felt like she was standing at the foot of a hill watching the battle herself. You are blood rushing down a mountain,
Spirit of hate, greed and anger,
Dominator of heaven and earth!
Men are scattered and smeared over the desert grass,
And the generals have accomplished nothing.
"This is good. But it's possible that if the battlefield is so full of bodies, the city must be even worse. I mean- it could be the defense of a city suddenly overtaken by the enemy, and there's a historian writing down all that happens, watching from a distance," she suggested. "Maybe something like...." Seeing a pen, she dipped the pen into the inkwell and took the paper.
"Even the few darts which may have missed their targets
Have found a home among the new spring flowers,
Singeing Demeter's gifts...." She paused to explain. "It's Ermaios now. The flowers are in bloom. And the physical damage of war doesn't always come from the dead or the dying,"
Darts possibly missing their targets. Possibly. After all, we don't really know how- she thought. Celine's breath caught, and suddenly it was more than a war poem. She had never really felt she had an outlet for expressing those horrible memories of the fire. No one probably would have wanted to see anything she painted or drew if she had gone that route, so she hadn't done that as a matter of course. She hadn't meant to ruin his poem, nor make it about herself and her sister Rhais, in particular, but his own writing had made her want to dsscribe more. This poem might be a legacy of some kind, a piece of Max for her to keep after he left for battle.
A singed spring flower...Rhais' face....The image flashed in Celine's mind's eye. She bit back a scream, and her hands shook as she finished the rest of what seemed to pour from her.
"Will time and fate choose to heal the scarred flowers, And the wounded soldier who grasps them As he thinks of his love? Was it truly only this morning that she'd whispered in passion, I love you, I love you, I love you, ten thousand times and more?"
"Because things can change just that fast,you know." She explained. "At any time, everything can change, and on the other side of the minute thst changed everything is shock and confusion, and surreality. And in the soldier's case, probably the strange feeling of slipping into unconsciousness, as well," she added, because it seemed like a plausible explanation for the soldier on the grass and his shock, but also to remind herself that this really wasn't supposed to be about her.
Her explanations might sound like something one might hear in the halls of the Scholeio, though. If the fire hadn't ruined everything, there might have been a chance for her to go.
And instead, years later, here she was in the house of one of her best friends- whom she now thought of as a potential lover- wondering and not knowing if he felt the same, all because of a comment about love poetry she wasn't sure if he meant because writing poetry at all didn't seem like something he would normally do.
Her hands wouldn't stop shaking. Hurriedly, she pushed the paper away so that what she'd written wouldn't get smudged by the tears that were starting to fall despite the fact that she wasn't trying to cry. She backed away from the desk, shaking, hoping she wouldn't knock something over. Where had all those emotions come from?
"Um... but really, what you've written was very good, and I mean that. I-I didn't mean to add anything you'd rather not. Just change it- throw it away, too, or even rip it to shreds if you'd like." She dabbed at her eyes again. The tears were slipping out, but her body was rigid, even as she trembled. It was as if she thought that if she really let herself become a blubbering mess, she would cause a problem for him somehow.
Rip it to shreds. There's my problem. I don't want my heart to get ripped to shreds. I know this is part of the reason why I've never said anything about love to him, but sweet Aphrodite, it aches whether I say anything or not. What should I do?
"Maybe that would be the best thing. Maybe. Just a suggestion." She seemed to remember then that the poem was not hers- she hadn't started writing it, and it was his decision what to do with it. But it did give her an idea. "If I write them down and then just..." she mimed ripping up a piece of paper. "And throw it to the wind, maybe those memories will go far away. I don't know why I didn't think of it before. I never really felt I had a proper way to grieve all that... the singed flowers... I thought of Rhais' face.... " A broken sob escaped her, one she couldn't stop this time. "Anyway, hopefully that helped. You, I mean." She tried to gulp back the tears. But if her mind was refusing to let her fall apart, her body was equally stubborn in its refusal to stop shaking, and she knew deep down that trying to hold in the tears would be useless, and that her memories did not care if the times they resurfaced were convenient for another person.
The minute he so much as brushed her with a fingertip, she might shatter into a thousand pieces like fragile pottery. But she still wanted to know.
"What did you think?" Even her breath shook as she waited for his response.
Maximus kept forgetting the fact that women have the tendency read more poetry than to actually write it. Usually it was the men who were the ones came up the verses and what not and placed them onto paper. Celine had tried to teach Maximus the parts of a poem through the stanzas and metrics but it was too confusing to him it was like trying to solve a mathematics problem it flew over his head much Celine's annoyance. "I think," Maximus said smiling. "That you should wear that dress everyday! It practically screams that this is you, your colorful and vibrant personality, your unsullied light skin, your lushous lips which shine cherry red from the lip balm you love to apply and-"
The young man began to sniff, "the wonderful perfume!" he said smiling. "You smell like fresh cut spring flowers Celine! You're very pretty! If father finds you looking like this he'll probably marry me off to you! It'll be pretty wonderful!"
It won't happen and admittedly Maximus would be weirded out at the prospect of marrying his best friend but Celine looked stunning in her dress the slippers were a nice complement as well. Celine got closer to Maximus as she studied his poem. "I was wondering," Maximus said. "Did describing how beautiful you look count as a poem? Because it sure did in my mind!" Maybe it didn't but who knows? Celine to Maximus' knowledge didn't show any romantic feelings for him which was expected. They were friends and Maximus was too busy to think about love anyway.
Maximus had to admit that Celine explaining the mechanics of poetry was just flat out boring. He just couldn't muster up the willpower to listen as it wasn't that interesting to him. Maximus didn't have the heart to tell Celine as she loved poetry and would share Maximus every time she can. At least she thought his poetry was good.
"I mean I guess," Maximus shrugged. "I just wrote what I know which is very little about poetry."
Without realizing it, Maximus reached out for Celine's exposed back and began to rub it. It felt warm and smooth which gave Maximus more incentive to rub her back more. He was watching Celine add more to the poem and it clicked with him. "That's brilliant!" Maximus said rubbing Celine's back. "It's much better than what I came up with which was horrible."
The young man then sighed. "I love you, I love you, I love you, ten thousand times and more?" he said. "That sounds very sweet!"
Maximus then smiled getting up and stretching. "You when I become a soldier," he said. "And I get paired with a woman by my father I wonder if she would send me off the same way you said it in the poem."
He cleared his throat. "Let's roleplay," he laughed. "Celine my love I'm off to war and I'm off to fulfill my duty. It will be hard to leave you but In order to continue our love I must defend Colchis."
Maximus then held Celine's hands close his. They felt soft and smooth he felt that he can hold them forever.
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Maximus kept forgetting the fact that women have the tendency read more poetry than to actually write it. Usually it was the men who were the ones came up the verses and what not and placed them onto paper. Celine had tried to teach Maximus the parts of a poem through the stanzas and metrics but it was too confusing to him it was like trying to solve a mathematics problem it flew over his head much Celine's annoyance. "I think," Maximus said smiling. "That you should wear that dress everyday! It practically screams that this is you, your colorful and vibrant personality, your unsullied light skin, your lushous lips which shine cherry red from the lip balm you love to apply and-"
The young man began to sniff, "the wonderful perfume!" he said smiling. "You smell like fresh cut spring flowers Celine! You're very pretty! If father finds you looking like this he'll probably marry me off to you! It'll be pretty wonderful!"
It won't happen and admittedly Maximus would be weirded out at the prospect of marrying his best friend but Celine looked stunning in her dress the slippers were a nice complement as well. Celine got closer to Maximus as she studied his poem. "I was wondering," Maximus said. "Did describing how beautiful you look count as a poem? Because it sure did in my mind!" Maybe it didn't but who knows? Celine to Maximus' knowledge didn't show any romantic feelings for him which was expected. They were friends and Maximus was too busy to think about love anyway.
Maximus had to admit that Celine explaining the mechanics of poetry was just flat out boring. He just couldn't muster up the willpower to listen as it wasn't that interesting to him. Maximus didn't have the heart to tell Celine as she loved poetry and would share Maximus every time she can. At least she thought his poetry was good.
"I mean I guess," Maximus shrugged. "I just wrote what I know which is very little about poetry."
Without realizing it, Maximus reached out for Celine's exposed back and began to rub it. It felt warm and smooth which gave Maximus more incentive to rub her back more. He was watching Celine add more to the poem and it clicked with him. "That's brilliant!" Maximus said rubbing Celine's back. "It's much better than what I came up with which was horrible."
The young man then sighed. "I love you, I love you, I love you, ten thousand times and more?" he said. "That sounds very sweet!"
Maximus then smiled getting up and stretching. "You when I become a soldier," he said. "And I get paired with a woman by my father I wonder if she would send me off the same way you said it in the poem."
He cleared his throat. "Let's roleplay," he laughed. "Celine my love I'm off to war and I'm off to fulfill my duty. It will be hard to leave you but In order to continue our love I must defend Colchis."
Maximus then held Celine's hands close his. They felt soft and smooth he felt that he can hold them forever.
Maximus kept forgetting the fact that women have the tendency read more poetry than to actually write it. Usually it was the men who were the ones came up the verses and what not and placed them onto paper. Celine had tried to teach Maximus the parts of a poem through the stanzas and metrics but it was too confusing to him it was like trying to solve a mathematics problem it flew over his head much Celine's annoyance. "I think," Maximus said smiling. "That you should wear that dress everyday! It practically screams that this is you, your colorful and vibrant personality, your unsullied light skin, your lushous lips which shine cherry red from the lip balm you love to apply and-"
The young man began to sniff, "the wonderful perfume!" he said smiling. "You smell like fresh cut spring flowers Celine! You're very pretty! If father finds you looking like this he'll probably marry me off to you! It'll be pretty wonderful!"
It won't happen and admittedly Maximus would be weirded out at the prospect of marrying his best friend but Celine looked stunning in her dress the slippers were a nice complement as well. Celine got closer to Maximus as she studied his poem. "I was wondering," Maximus said. "Did describing how beautiful you look count as a poem? Because it sure did in my mind!" Maybe it didn't but who knows? Celine to Maximus' knowledge didn't show any romantic feelings for him which was expected. They were friends and Maximus was too busy to think about love anyway.
Maximus had to admit that Celine explaining the mechanics of poetry was just flat out boring. He just couldn't muster up the willpower to listen as it wasn't that interesting to him. Maximus didn't have the heart to tell Celine as she loved poetry and would share Maximus every time she can. At least she thought his poetry was good.
"I mean I guess," Maximus shrugged. "I just wrote what I know which is very little about poetry."
Without realizing it, Maximus reached out for Celine's exposed back and began to rub it. It felt warm and smooth which gave Maximus more incentive to rub her back more. He was watching Celine add more to the poem and it clicked with him. "That's brilliant!" Maximus said rubbing Celine's back. "It's much better than what I came up with which was horrible."
The young man then sighed. "I love you, I love you, I love you, ten thousand times and more?" he said. "That sounds very sweet!"
Maximus then smiled getting up and stretching. "You when I become a soldier," he said. "And I get paired with a woman by my father I wonder if she would send me off the same way you said it in the poem."
He cleared his throat. "Let's roleplay," he laughed. "Celine my love I'm off to war and I'm off to fulfill my duty. It will be hard to leave you but In order to continue our love I must defend Colchis."
Maximus then held Celine's hands close his. They felt soft and smooth he felt that he can hold them forever.
Somehow the way he described her dress and her perfume made Celine think of when they were eleven- though nearly twelve- and she tried to smile. She was still trembling, but the memory made her want to laugh, because it brought something else to mind. When she was upset after a sleepless night he used to tell her that he ate nightmares for breakfast.
"It should count!" she decided. "Now all we have to do is write it down!" She tried to smile again when he said his father would marry him off to her, knowing for sure now that he was joking. Celine's father had some limited political influence, but that did not translate into a noble rank, She knew that Max's father would most likely never agree, unless a miracle of the gods occurred.
She wanted one to, but if the gods cared so much about her, she had yet to see proof of it, no matter how sincere her devotion to them was.
She tried to laugh, but it came out strained, because it hurt all the more knowing how much she wanted him not to be joking with her.
And she was right- the second she felt his hand on her back, her sobs became convulsive.
"I-I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean to...I just honestly never realized until now that I've never had an outlet for that pain...by Hermes. You see, I knew any painting or drawing would probably frighten people...and of course the ones I was most comfortable around other than you and Adelpha and Basil were my family, so of course, I wasn't going to have them potentially see anything I'd made. I don't know if it makes it worse that I hide the nightmares when they come because I'm worried that anything I say might bring back all the horror for them, too. It probably does make it worse." How she wished life didn't mean one constantly ached, either at their own expense or others'. Not healing was costing her so much- but that was agape, wasn't it? Being truly selfless, or at least trying? She dabbed at her eyes again, not daring even in her previously repressed and therefore violent grief to be so undignified as to blow her nose into the fabric of that beautiful coral red and indigo chiton. It was still a good while before the sobs didn't rip themselves from her, and her throat and heart both ached, but she leaned into his touch and somehow that made everything hurt a little less.
Oh, it wasn't fair! Why was it his touch she craved, when most of the tactile world she avoided?
She didn't just want it. It was more than that. And last week, when her lungs had hurt, she had needed someone's touch, just like she usually did then. But now she craved it.
And that scared Celine of Acaris silly. A woman who didn't even trust very many people to the point that she would let them physically touch her craving someone's touch? She must have loved him for longer than she could remember, somehow. It was the only explanation she could possibly think of that made any sense.
And it was the shock of realizing she craved his touch, and really, truly trying to pinpoint how long she could possibly have loved him for it to be so that eventually made her stop crying, though his hand on her back helped more than he might ever know.
When he stood up and took his hands in hers, her body felt warm all over, and while the hand on her back had been comforting, his hands in hers somehow seemed to cause her heart to beat faster.
"If I were that woman," she whispered, her voice husky from tears, "I'd say you deserve every word. I love you, I love you, I love you, ten thousand times and more."
It hit her then that she now might have a friend who could possibly help make her dream come at least a little closer to reality. She wondered what Essa might think of all this, and if she could help- or knew someone who might be able to. Surely, her father's time living in Colchis must have earned him something, and though Celine did not want the money that would come with an increase in rank- at least not for herself- she knew people who would respect her family more if she had it. One of them might be Max's father.
She wasn't going to take advantage of her first bond with someone else since Max, Adelpha, and Basil, though. She and Essa both liked books. Gods knew those people were few enough in her life, and she wasn't going to use Essa for anything. Celine wasn't the kind of person who would do that. But if she ever did become close enough to Essa to share secrets with her, she couldn't help wondering what she'd say.
Right now, they were just roleplaying, and Max was half-joking, and maybe- until further notice- it was better that it stayed that way. She needed him, but she could only presumably have a chance at having him if and when her family's circumstances changed.
And so she couldn't quite bring herself to do what she would have liked to, which was to kiss him on the lips until both of them were senseless. That, she wanted to save for an occasion when she was reasonably sure they would both be aware there was no room for joking.
But she did lean in close, brushing herself against his chest, and stand on her toes to kiss him fiercely...on the forehead.
Was it her imagination, or were her lips burning with some of the passion she had put into it despite herself?
She hoped he would feel- well- something. Enough to know that although the kiss had been half-joking, the love behind it was certainly not.
When she could finally kiss him for real- and she believed the day would finally come, if slowly- she wanted him to kiss her back and mean it.
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Somehow the way he described her dress and her perfume made Celine think of when they were eleven- though nearly twelve- and she tried to smile. She was still trembling, but the memory made her want to laugh, because it brought something else to mind. When she was upset after a sleepless night he used to tell her that he ate nightmares for breakfast.
"It should count!" she decided. "Now all we have to do is write it down!" She tried to smile again when he said his father would marry him off to her, knowing for sure now that he was joking. Celine's father had some limited political influence, but that did not translate into a noble rank, She knew that Max's father would most likely never agree, unless a miracle of the gods occurred.
She wanted one to, but if the gods cared so much about her, she had yet to see proof of it, no matter how sincere her devotion to them was.
She tried to laugh, but it came out strained, because it hurt all the more knowing how much she wanted him not to be joking with her.
And she was right- the second she felt his hand on her back, her sobs became convulsive.
"I-I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean to...I just honestly never realized until now that I've never had an outlet for that pain...by Hermes. You see, I knew any painting or drawing would probably frighten people...and of course the ones I was most comfortable around other than you and Adelpha and Basil were my family, so of course, I wasn't going to have them potentially see anything I'd made. I don't know if it makes it worse that I hide the nightmares when they come because I'm worried that anything I say might bring back all the horror for them, too. It probably does make it worse." How she wished life didn't mean one constantly ached, either at their own expense or others'. Not healing was costing her so much- but that was agape, wasn't it? Being truly selfless, or at least trying? She dabbed at her eyes again, not daring even in her previously repressed and therefore violent grief to be so undignified as to blow her nose into the fabric of that beautiful coral red and indigo chiton. It was still a good while before the sobs didn't rip themselves from her, and her throat and heart both ached, but she leaned into his touch and somehow that made everything hurt a little less.
Oh, it wasn't fair! Why was it his touch she craved, when most of the tactile world she avoided?
She didn't just want it. It was more than that. And last week, when her lungs had hurt, she had needed someone's touch, just like she usually did then. But now she craved it.
And that scared Celine of Acaris silly. A woman who didn't even trust very many people to the point that she would let them physically touch her craving someone's touch? She must have loved him for longer than she could remember, somehow. It was the only explanation she could possibly think of that made any sense.
And it was the shock of realizing she craved his touch, and really, truly trying to pinpoint how long she could possibly have loved him for it to be so that eventually made her stop crying, though his hand on her back helped more than he might ever know.
When he stood up and took his hands in hers, her body felt warm all over, and while the hand on her back had been comforting, his hands in hers somehow seemed to cause her heart to beat faster.
"If I were that woman," she whispered, her voice husky from tears, "I'd say you deserve every word. I love you, I love you, I love you, ten thousand times and more."
It hit her then that she now might have a friend who could possibly help make her dream come at least a little closer to reality. She wondered what Essa might think of all this, and if she could help- or knew someone who might be able to. Surely, her father's time living in Colchis must have earned him something, and though Celine did not want the money that would come with an increase in rank- at least not for herself- she knew people who would respect her family more if she had it. One of them might be Max's father.
She wasn't going to take advantage of her first bond with someone else since Max, Adelpha, and Basil, though. She and Essa both liked books. Gods knew those people were few enough in her life, and she wasn't going to use Essa for anything. Celine wasn't the kind of person who would do that. But if she ever did become close enough to Essa to share secrets with her, she couldn't help wondering what she'd say.
Right now, they were just roleplaying, and Max was half-joking, and maybe- until further notice- it was better that it stayed that way. She needed him, but she could only presumably have a chance at having him if and when her family's circumstances changed.
And so she couldn't quite bring herself to do what she would have liked to, which was to kiss him on the lips until both of them were senseless. That, she wanted to save for an occasion when she was reasonably sure they would both be aware there was no room for joking.
But she did lean in close, brushing herself against his chest, and stand on her toes to kiss him fiercely...on the forehead.
Was it her imagination, or were her lips burning with some of the passion she had put into it despite herself?
She hoped he would feel- well- something. Enough to know that although the kiss had been half-joking, the love behind it was certainly not.
When she could finally kiss him for real- and she believed the day would finally come, if slowly- she wanted him to kiss her back and mean it.
Somehow the way he described her dress and her perfume made Celine think of when they were eleven- though nearly twelve- and she tried to smile. She was still trembling, but the memory made her want to laugh, because it brought something else to mind. When she was upset after a sleepless night he used to tell her that he ate nightmares for breakfast.
"It should count!" she decided. "Now all we have to do is write it down!" She tried to smile again when he said his father would marry him off to her, knowing for sure now that he was joking. Celine's father had some limited political influence, but that did not translate into a noble rank, She knew that Max's father would most likely never agree, unless a miracle of the gods occurred.
She wanted one to, but if the gods cared so much about her, she had yet to see proof of it, no matter how sincere her devotion to them was.
She tried to laugh, but it came out strained, because it hurt all the more knowing how much she wanted him not to be joking with her.
And she was right- the second she felt his hand on her back, her sobs became convulsive.
"I-I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean to...I just honestly never realized until now that I've never had an outlet for that pain...by Hermes. You see, I knew any painting or drawing would probably frighten people...and of course the ones I was most comfortable around other than you and Adelpha and Basil were my family, so of course, I wasn't going to have them potentially see anything I'd made. I don't know if it makes it worse that I hide the nightmares when they come because I'm worried that anything I say might bring back all the horror for them, too. It probably does make it worse." How she wished life didn't mean one constantly ached, either at their own expense or others'. Not healing was costing her so much- but that was agape, wasn't it? Being truly selfless, or at least trying? She dabbed at her eyes again, not daring even in her previously repressed and therefore violent grief to be so undignified as to blow her nose into the fabric of that beautiful coral red and indigo chiton. It was still a good while before the sobs didn't rip themselves from her, and her throat and heart both ached, but she leaned into his touch and somehow that made everything hurt a little less.
Oh, it wasn't fair! Why was it his touch she craved, when most of the tactile world she avoided?
She didn't just want it. It was more than that. And last week, when her lungs had hurt, she had needed someone's touch, just like she usually did then. But now she craved it.
And that scared Celine of Acaris silly. A woman who didn't even trust very many people to the point that she would let them physically touch her craving someone's touch? She must have loved him for longer than she could remember, somehow. It was the only explanation she could possibly think of that made any sense.
And it was the shock of realizing she craved his touch, and really, truly trying to pinpoint how long she could possibly have loved him for it to be so that eventually made her stop crying, though his hand on her back helped more than he might ever know.
When he stood up and took his hands in hers, her body felt warm all over, and while the hand on her back had been comforting, his hands in hers somehow seemed to cause her heart to beat faster.
"If I were that woman," she whispered, her voice husky from tears, "I'd say you deserve every word. I love you, I love you, I love you, ten thousand times and more."
It hit her then that she now might have a friend who could possibly help make her dream come at least a little closer to reality. She wondered what Essa might think of all this, and if she could help- or knew someone who might be able to. Surely, her father's time living in Colchis must have earned him something, and though Celine did not want the money that would come with an increase in rank- at least not for herself- she knew people who would respect her family more if she had it. One of them might be Max's father.
She wasn't going to take advantage of her first bond with someone else since Max, Adelpha, and Basil, though. She and Essa both liked books. Gods knew those people were few enough in her life, and she wasn't going to use Essa for anything. Celine wasn't the kind of person who would do that. But if she ever did become close enough to Essa to share secrets with her, she couldn't help wondering what she'd say.
Right now, they were just roleplaying, and Max was half-joking, and maybe- until further notice- it was better that it stayed that way. She needed him, but she could only presumably have a chance at having him if and when her family's circumstances changed.
And so she couldn't quite bring herself to do what she would have liked to, which was to kiss him on the lips until both of them were senseless. That, she wanted to save for an occasion when she was reasonably sure they would both be aware there was no room for joking.
But she did lean in close, brushing herself against his chest, and stand on her toes to kiss him fiercely...on the forehead.
Was it her imagination, or were her lips burning with some of the passion she had put into it despite herself?
She hoped he would feel- well- something. Enough to know that although the kiss had been half-joking, the love behind it was certainly not.
When she could finally kiss him for real- and she believed the day would finally come, if slowly- she wanted him to kiss her back and mean it.
Maximus hated to see Celine in tears, she tried her best to hide from him over the years but the young man could tell that whenever Celine thought about fire that happened during her childhood, she would sometimes breakdown. "Celine," Maximus whispered pulling her close and began to rub her exposed back. "It's okay," he said. "Remember what I've told you when you first had your nightmare when Basil, me and Adelpha were sleeping over at your house. You live in Colchis now and a Colchian woman must have strength."
Indeed Celine acquired a tremendous amount of emotional strength but there were still cracks in the armor which and winds of doubt would seep through them and affect Celine's mindset. "What happened at the fires happened," he said rubbing her back. "You were alone and afraid but not anymore you have me to make it all better."
The young man then kissed Celine's forehead, he had his lips planted longer than usual something that he wasn't aware of. "I will protect Celine of Acaris you mean the world to me. When I go off to war you must remain strong in your convictions."
Maximus gave Celine a wide smile brushing the tears around her eyes with his thumb. "You are precious Celine," he said. "You represent love and beauty to me."
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Maximus hated to see Celine in tears, she tried her best to hide from him over the years but the young man could tell that whenever Celine thought about fire that happened during her childhood, she would sometimes breakdown. "Celine," Maximus whispered pulling her close and began to rub her exposed back. "It's okay," he said. "Remember what I've told you when you first had your nightmare when Basil, me and Adelpha were sleeping over at your house. You live in Colchis now and a Colchian woman must have strength."
Indeed Celine acquired a tremendous amount of emotional strength but there were still cracks in the armor which and winds of doubt would seep through them and affect Celine's mindset. "What happened at the fires happened," he said rubbing her back. "You were alone and afraid but not anymore you have me to make it all better."
The young man then kissed Celine's forehead, he had his lips planted longer than usual something that he wasn't aware of. "I will protect Celine of Acaris you mean the world to me. When I go off to war you must remain strong in your convictions."
Maximus gave Celine a wide smile brushing the tears around her eyes with his thumb. "You are precious Celine," he said. "You represent love and beauty to me."
Maximus hated to see Celine in tears, she tried her best to hide from him over the years but the young man could tell that whenever Celine thought about fire that happened during her childhood, she would sometimes breakdown. "Celine," Maximus whispered pulling her close and began to rub her exposed back. "It's okay," he said. "Remember what I've told you when you first had your nightmare when Basil, me and Adelpha were sleeping over at your house. You live in Colchis now and a Colchian woman must have strength."
Indeed Celine acquired a tremendous amount of emotional strength but there were still cracks in the armor which and winds of doubt would seep through them and affect Celine's mindset. "What happened at the fires happened," he said rubbing her back. "You were alone and afraid but not anymore you have me to make it all better."
The young man then kissed Celine's forehead, he had his lips planted longer than usual something that he wasn't aware of. "I will protect Celine of Acaris you mean the world to me. When I go off to war you must remain strong in your convictions."
Maximus gave Celine a wide smile brushing the tears around her eyes with his thumb. "You are precious Celine," he said. "You represent love and beauty to me."
"Thank you. Sometimes I feel so... broken," Celine sniffled. "The fire memories are a part of it, but it's also how it affected me. How I no longer trust people to the extent I once did. I can't- it would be foolish and may cost myself or my family our lives- but perhaps I've gone too far. The fear of being touched by those I don't trust...how touch is a deep form of trust for me...how I crave your touch above all others...."
She couldn't tell him more than that, not without potentially opening up a whole new world of hurt for them both, even if he might love her, but he did have to know that much.
"Where do you think it all came from?" His kiss on her forehead felt passionate in its own way, as well. His lips seemed to linger just that little bit longer than might have been appropriate even for a little game.
And that gave her hope that maybe he might feel something after all, and that maybe it wasn't all as hopeless as it seemed.
"I meant...this," she clarified. Whether or not he admitted it, she felt that somehow in those few moments. something had changed between them. For surely he at least wasn't joking when he said he would protect her. He might have said that plenty of times as a child, but now he was actually talking about when he would eventually go off to war. Her soul lifted.
Especially when he said she represented love to him. Her heart fluttered, and an unexpected, pleasant little shiver danced down her spine. She lay her head against his chest for a moment, and her breathing slowed, and the pain, while it was still there, and probably always would be to an extent, dissipated even further.
And, roleplay or not, for those moments in time with him, she felt whole.
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"Thank you. Sometimes I feel so... broken," Celine sniffled. "The fire memories are a part of it, but it's also how it affected me. How I no longer trust people to the extent I once did. I can't- it would be foolish and may cost myself or my family our lives- but perhaps I've gone too far. The fear of being touched by those I don't trust...how touch is a deep form of trust for me...how I crave your touch above all others...."
She couldn't tell him more than that, not without potentially opening up a whole new world of hurt for them both, even if he might love her, but he did have to know that much.
"Where do you think it all came from?" His kiss on her forehead felt passionate in its own way, as well. His lips seemed to linger just that little bit longer than might have been appropriate even for a little game.
And that gave her hope that maybe he might feel something after all, and that maybe it wasn't all as hopeless as it seemed.
"I meant...this," she clarified. Whether or not he admitted it, she felt that somehow in those few moments. something had changed between them. For surely he at least wasn't joking when he said he would protect her. He might have said that plenty of times as a child, but now he was actually talking about when he would eventually go off to war. Her soul lifted.
Especially when he said she represented love to him. Her heart fluttered, and an unexpected, pleasant little shiver danced down her spine. She lay her head against his chest for a moment, and her breathing slowed, and the pain, while it was still there, and probably always would be to an extent, dissipated even further.
And, roleplay or not, for those moments in time with him, she felt whole.
"Thank you. Sometimes I feel so... broken," Celine sniffled. "The fire memories are a part of it, but it's also how it affected me. How I no longer trust people to the extent I once did. I can't- it would be foolish and may cost myself or my family our lives- but perhaps I've gone too far. The fear of being touched by those I don't trust...how touch is a deep form of trust for me...how I crave your touch above all others...."
She couldn't tell him more than that, not without potentially opening up a whole new world of hurt for them both, even if he might love her, but he did have to know that much.
"Where do you think it all came from?" His kiss on her forehead felt passionate in its own way, as well. His lips seemed to linger just that little bit longer than might have been appropriate even for a little game.
And that gave her hope that maybe he might feel something after all, and that maybe it wasn't all as hopeless as it seemed.
"I meant...this," she clarified. Whether or not he admitted it, she felt that somehow in those few moments. something had changed between them. For surely he at least wasn't joking when he said he would protect her. He might have said that plenty of times as a child, but now he was actually talking about when he would eventually go off to war. Her soul lifted.
Especially when he said she represented love to him. Her heart fluttered, and an unexpected, pleasant little shiver danced down her spine. She lay her head against his chest for a moment, and her breathing slowed, and the pain, while it was still there, and probably always would be to an extent, dissipated even further.
And, roleplay or not, for those moments in time with him, she felt whole.
Crave his touch? Perhaps Celine meant that she felt more safe whenever she was with Maximus. After all when they first met, Celine offered Maximus to kiss her hand for good luck during the tournament. Maximus was a child and was very foolish at that time thinking that he can take on grown, experienced men in a 1 on 1 duel but Celine gave him hope that perhaps he could overcome them. Perhaps an 11 year old Maximus would attain glory. It was a childish but it was something to hope and Celine gave it him all those years ago. It motivated Maximus to become stronger.
"Celine," Maximus said softly stroking her hair. "The fire was never your fault, the fact that you're continuing to survive speaks of your strength. Of course one must be cautious on who you trust but the fact that you opened up to me all those years ago means that you are willing to move on from the fires. You're taking the steps of becoming a stronger person Celine."
The young man once again wiped the tears forming from her eyes with his thumb and leaned his chin against her head. "I think the reason why you crave my touch," he said. "Is because I was the first person who listened to your story." Maximus stared at Celine and kissed her cheek smiling. "I remember hugging your shaking body tightly and calmed down. It must've been hard carrying that burden for years."
In many ways Maximus envied Celine's ability to adapt to extremely stressful situations. Even after enduring a massive fire, she still maintained her empathy and compassion for others to a fault. Celine was the best friend that Maximus could ask for. The young man then kissed her rosy cheek again "It came from our love for each other." Maximus whispered internally wondering if he meant friendship or something else. "That we share a bond that'll never be broken."
He guided Celine to his bed as he sat right next to her. "So Celine," he said placing his arm around her slender body. "What does I love you, I love you, I love you ten thousand times and more mean to you?"
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Crave his touch? Perhaps Celine meant that she felt more safe whenever she was with Maximus. After all when they first met, Celine offered Maximus to kiss her hand for good luck during the tournament. Maximus was a child and was very foolish at that time thinking that he can take on grown, experienced men in a 1 on 1 duel but Celine gave him hope that perhaps he could overcome them. Perhaps an 11 year old Maximus would attain glory. It was a childish but it was something to hope and Celine gave it him all those years ago. It motivated Maximus to become stronger.
"Celine," Maximus said softly stroking her hair. "The fire was never your fault, the fact that you're continuing to survive speaks of your strength. Of course one must be cautious on who you trust but the fact that you opened up to me all those years ago means that you are willing to move on from the fires. You're taking the steps of becoming a stronger person Celine."
The young man once again wiped the tears forming from her eyes with his thumb and leaned his chin against her head. "I think the reason why you crave my touch," he said. "Is because I was the first person who listened to your story." Maximus stared at Celine and kissed her cheek smiling. "I remember hugging your shaking body tightly and calmed down. It must've been hard carrying that burden for years."
In many ways Maximus envied Celine's ability to adapt to extremely stressful situations. Even after enduring a massive fire, she still maintained her empathy and compassion for others to a fault. Celine was the best friend that Maximus could ask for. The young man then kissed her rosy cheek again "It came from our love for each other." Maximus whispered internally wondering if he meant friendship or something else. "That we share a bond that'll never be broken."
He guided Celine to his bed as he sat right next to her. "So Celine," he said placing his arm around her slender body. "What does I love you, I love you, I love you ten thousand times and more mean to you?"
Crave his touch? Perhaps Celine meant that she felt more safe whenever she was with Maximus. After all when they first met, Celine offered Maximus to kiss her hand for good luck during the tournament. Maximus was a child and was very foolish at that time thinking that he can take on grown, experienced men in a 1 on 1 duel but Celine gave him hope that perhaps he could overcome them. Perhaps an 11 year old Maximus would attain glory. It was a childish but it was something to hope and Celine gave it him all those years ago. It motivated Maximus to become stronger.
"Celine," Maximus said softly stroking her hair. "The fire was never your fault, the fact that you're continuing to survive speaks of your strength. Of course one must be cautious on who you trust but the fact that you opened up to me all those years ago means that you are willing to move on from the fires. You're taking the steps of becoming a stronger person Celine."
The young man once again wiped the tears forming from her eyes with his thumb and leaned his chin against her head. "I think the reason why you crave my touch," he said. "Is because I was the first person who listened to your story." Maximus stared at Celine and kissed her cheek smiling. "I remember hugging your shaking body tightly and calmed down. It must've been hard carrying that burden for years."
In many ways Maximus envied Celine's ability to adapt to extremely stressful situations. Even after enduring a massive fire, she still maintained her empathy and compassion for others to a fault. Celine was the best friend that Maximus could ask for. The young man then kissed her rosy cheek again "It came from our love for each other." Maximus whispered internally wondering if he meant friendship or something else. "That we share a bond that'll never be broken."
He guided Celine to his bed as he sat right next to her. "So Celine," he said placing his arm around her slender body. "What does I love you, I love you, I love you ten thousand times and more mean to you?"
Celine remembered the day she told him her horrible story, too. She nodded, wishing he'd hold her like that now, and even more so now that she knew what being held like that would feel like to a person in love.
"We do have an unbreakable bond." She started to calm down as he stroked her hair, even managing a smile herself when she felt him continue to kiss her cheeks. Her head spun as if she'd taken a drink of the most potent wine ever made, and she almost felt as if she would leave her body when he asked what 'I love you, I love you, I love you, ten thousand times and more' meant.
"It means...." It both meant so much and was so simple to Celine that she felt she didn't have to put it into words. For a moment, for only the best reason possible, Celine felt she couldn't breathe.
"It means it's how I feel about you, that I could spend eternity telling you and showing you that I love you in ten thousand ways and it still wouldn't be enough...."
She thought of how the priestess Euterpe had told her that it might be best if she told him she loved him because some men could be thickheaded. She almost would have laughed, except that when she was confessing her deepest love, it might not be considered appropriate to do so because then he might think she didn't mean anything she said.
And if the explanation she'd just given was not simple enough for him to understand, then she'd just remove the flowery language.
"I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you...."
If she had known that Max was extremely inexperienced with love and might not understand that she thought 'you are precious to me' was a confession of feelings of sorts, she might have been surprised. Those kisses on her cheeks were so sweet and calming....
"I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you...." Did those words hypnotize him the way they did Celine?
"Well...that is what it means." But in the interest of her heart, she snapped herself back to their present reality for a second. "You did say we were roleplaying, right?"
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Celine remembered the day she told him her horrible story, too. She nodded, wishing he'd hold her like that now, and even more so now that she knew what being held like that would feel like to a person in love.
"We do have an unbreakable bond." She started to calm down as he stroked her hair, even managing a smile herself when she felt him continue to kiss her cheeks. Her head spun as if she'd taken a drink of the most potent wine ever made, and she almost felt as if she would leave her body when he asked what 'I love you, I love you, I love you, ten thousand times and more' meant.
"It means...." It both meant so much and was so simple to Celine that she felt she didn't have to put it into words. For a moment, for only the best reason possible, Celine felt she couldn't breathe.
"It means it's how I feel about you, that I could spend eternity telling you and showing you that I love you in ten thousand ways and it still wouldn't be enough...."
She thought of how the priestess Euterpe had told her that it might be best if she told him she loved him because some men could be thickheaded. She almost would have laughed, except that when she was confessing her deepest love, it might not be considered appropriate to do so because then he might think she didn't mean anything she said.
And if the explanation she'd just given was not simple enough for him to understand, then she'd just remove the flowery language.
"I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you...."
If she had known that Max was extremely inexperienced with love and might not understand that she thought 'you are precious to me' was a confession of feelings of sorts, she might have been surprised. Those kisses on her cheeks were so sweet and calming....
"I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you...." Did those words hypnotize him the way they did Celine?
"Well...that is what it means." But in the interest of her heart, she snapped herself back to their present reality for a second. "You did say we were roleplaying, right?"
Celine remembered the day she told him her horrible story, too. She nodded, wishing he'd hold her like that now, and even more so now that she knew what being held like that would feel like to a person in love.
"We do have an unbreakable bond." She started to calm down as he stroked her hair, even managing a smile herself when she felt him continue to kiss her cheeks. Her head spun as if she'd taken a drink of the most potent wine ever made, and she almost felt as if she would leave her body when he asked what 'I love you, I love you, I love you, ten thousand times and more' meant.
"It means...." It both meant so much and was so simple to Celine that she felt she didn't have to put it into words. For a moment, for only the best reason possible, Celine felt she couldn't breathe.
"It means it's how I feel about you, that I could spend eternity telling you and showing you that I love you in ten thousand ways and it still wouldn't be enough...."
She thought of how the priestess Euterpe had told her that it might be best if she told him she loved him because some men could be thickheaded. She almost would have laughed, except that when she was confessing her deepest love, it might not be considered appropriate to do so because then he might think she didn't mean anything she said.
And if the explanation she'd just given was not simple enough for him to understand, then she'd just remove the flowery language.
"I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you...."
If she had known that Max was extremely inexperienced with love and might not understand that she thought 'you are precious to me' was a confession of feelings of sorts, she might have been surprised. Those kisses on her cheeks were so sweet and calming....
"I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you...." Did those words hypnotize him the way they did Celine?
"Well...that is what it means." But in the interest of her heart, she snapped herself back to their present reality for a second. "You did say we were roleplaying, right?"
"Well we all do," Maximus corrected Celine as he continued to stroke Celine's hair. "You, me, Adelpha and Basil," he didn't want Celine to forget those two as well since she seemed to be pushing for only the two of them. Maximus' heart began to beat a little faster when Celine talked about the meaning of the phrase she wrote on the poem. Wait did Celine say that she loved him and that she wanted to spend a life time with him.
Maximus wanted to speak but Celine continued saying that ten thousand times wouldn't be enough for her to express her love to him. "Celine," Maximus managed to give a throaty chuckle. "Are you okay? You look a bit paler than usual?"
His heart was racing fiercely, Celine was in love with him. That would explain the way she looked at him, the way touched him when they were alone. The young man stood there stunned at the revelation. For years they got along as friends and nothing more. A soldier should protect their friends and not have any distractions but with this confession, all the years of discipline was thrown out. If there was one thing that Maximus was not prepared for was a woman who told him that she loved him.
“I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you....”
Maximus reached for his hand and cupped Celine's cheek. "I love you too," he whispered in her ear before quickly retracting his hand. What did he say? Maximus' eyes widened with fear and he quickly took a step back. Did he just say that he loved Celine?! Perhaps loving her as a sister but not love as in actual love. Maximus never saw Celine that way but the way he said it with confidence and conviction said otherwise.
"You did say we were roleplaying, right?”
"I-I guess," Maximus began rubbing the back of his head out of embarrassment. His cheeks were ruby red overshadowing his dark skin. For the first time since he was six years old, he felt awkward and confused. "You seemed to be convinced in what you were saying. Do you truly love me?"
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"Well we all do," Maximus corrected Celine as he continued to stroke Celine's hair. "You, me, Adelpha and Basil," he didn't want Celine to forget those two as well since she seemed to be pushing for only the two of them. Maximus' heart began to beat a little faster when Celine talked about the meaning of the phrase she wrote on the poem. Wait did Celine say that she loved him and that she wanted to spend a life time with him.
Maximus wanted to speak but Celine continued saying that ten thousand times wouldn't be enough for her to express her love to him. "Celine," Maximus managed to give a throaty chuckle. "Are you okay? You look a bit paler than usual?"
His heart was racing fiercely, Celine was in love with him. That would explain the way she looked at him, the way touched him when they were alone. The young man stood there stunned at the revelation. For years they got along as friends and nothing more. A soldier should protect their friends and not have any distractions but with this confession, all the years of discipline was thrown out. If there was one thing that Maximus was not prepared for was a woman who told him that she loved him.
“I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you....”
Maximus reached for his hand and cupped Celine's cheek. "I love you too," he whispered in her ear before quickly retracting his hand. What did he say? Maximus' eyes widened with fear and he quickly took a step back. Did he just say that he loved Celine?! Perhaps loving her as a sister but not love as in actual love. Maximus never saw Celine that way but the way he said it with confidence and conviction said otherwise.
"You did say we were roleplaying, right?”
"I-I guess," Maximus began rubbing the back of his head out of embarrassment. His cheeks were ruby red overshadowing his dark skin. For the first time since he was six years old, he felt awkward and confused. "You seemed to be convinced in what you were saying. Do you truly love me?"
"Well we all do," Maximus corrected Celine as he continued to stroke Celine's hair. "You, me, Adelpha and Basil," he didn't want Celine to forget those two as well since she seemed to be pushing for only the two of them. Maximus' heart began to beat a little faster when Celine talked about the meaning of the phrase she wrote on the poem. Wait did Celine say that she loved him and that she wanted to spend a life time with him.
Maximus wanted to speak but Celine continued saying that ten thousand times wouldn't be enough for her to express her love to him. "Celine," Maximus managed to give a throaty chuckle. "Are you okay? You look a bit paler than usual?"
His heart was racing fiercely, Celine was in love with him. That would explain the way she looked at him, the way touched him when they were alone. The young man stood there stunned at the revelation. For years they got along as friends and nothing more. A soldier should protect their friends and not have any distractions but with this confession, all the years of discipline was thrown out. If there was one thing that Maximus was not prepared for was a woman who told him that she loved him.
“I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you....”
Maximus reached for his hand and cupped Celine's cheek. "I love you too," he whispered in her ear before quickly retracting his hand. What did he say? Maximus' eyes widened with fear and he quickly took a step back. Did he just say that he loved Celine?! Perhaps loving her as a sister but not love as in actual love. Maximus never saw Celine that way but the way he said it with confidence and conviction said otherwise.
"You did say we were roleplaying, right?”
"I-I guess," Maximus began rubbing the back of his head out of embarrassment. His cheeks were ruby red overshadowing his dark skin. For the first time since he was six years old, he felt awkward and confused. "You seemed to be convinced in what you were saying. Do you truly love me?"
Celine couldn't believe this was actually happening. Had he really just said he loved her too? And if so, did he mean just as a friend? Since he had presumably thought they were joking before, it was entirely possible that he thought she meant only as a friend. But it was too late, and the fact that he seemed at least a little bit receptive made her want to test the waters, so to speak. She was still terrified of saying yes, she did love him, because she had already guessed how his father might feel about that. Adonis of Laconia was a rather ambitious man. Max had told Celine when they were eleven that his father wouldn't even let him have a pet, a memory that still brought tears to Celine's eyes when she thought about it. And given that many marriages in Greece were arranged, regardless of the circumstances that had made love the greatest priority for Celine and her brothers and sisters, she couldn't help but think Max's marriage would be arranged as well. Of course it might. Wasn't everything in a soldier's life planned down to the last detail? At least, that was how it seemed to Celine.
But what if she could reveal a little more...enough to know if he thought about her too? Then she might be able to tell Euterpe that at least her efforts had been well-spent, if she ever decided to go to the temple of Aphrodite again. And it wouldn't hurt as much if he felt nothing for her if Celine didn't say that yes, she loved him. Or at least that was what she told herself.
When he asked if she was okay, she startled a bit. "I...um... might need some fresh air. Walk with me?" Her voice squeaked on the last few words. Her pulse raced as he cupped her cheek; then she stood up. Even his touch on her face had made her warm... her color had to have returned at least a little bit, if she was truly as warm as she felt.
'You seemed to be convinced in what you were saying. Do you truly love me?'
He seemed somewhat confused even as she thought he might want to know the answer, so maybe not saying yes or no was best for him, too, at this point. But she still meant every word she said next.
"I think it's possible that I might."
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Celine couldn't believe this was actually happening. Had he really just said he loved her too? And if so, did he mean just as a friend? Since he had presumably thought they were joking before, it was entirely possible that he thought she meant only as a friend. But it was too late, and the fact that he seemed at least a little bit receptive made her want to test the waters, so to speak. She was still terrified of saying yes, she did love him, because she had already guessed how his father might feel about that. Adonis of Laconia was a rather ambitious man. Max had told Celine when they were eleven that his father wouldn't even let him have a pet, a memory that still brought tears to Celine's eyes when she thought about it. And given that many marriages in Greece were arranged, regardless of the circumstances that had made love the greatest priority for Celine and her brothers and sisters, she couldn't help but think Max's marriage would be arranged as well. Of course it might. Wasn't everything in a soldier's life planned down to the last detail? At least, that was how it seemed to Celine.
But what if she could reveal a little more...enough to know if he thought about her too? Then she might be able to tell Euterpe that at least her efforts had been well-spent, if she ever decided to go to the temple of Aphrodite again. And it wouldn't hurt as much if he felt nothing for her if Celine didn't say that yes, she loved him. Or at least that was what she told herself.
When he asked if she was okay, she startled a bit. "I...um... might need some fresh air. Walk with me?" Her voice squeaked on the last few words. Her pulse raced as he cupped her cheek; then she stood up. Even his touch on her face had made her warm... her color had to have returned at least a little bit, if she was truly as warm as she felt.
'You seemed to be convinced in what you were saying. Do you truly love me?'
He seemed somewhat confused even as she thought he might want to know the answer, so maybe not saying yes or no was best for him, too, at this point. But she still meant every word she said next.
"I think it's possible that I might."
Celine couldn't believe this was actually happening. Had he really just said he loved her too? And if so, did he mean just as a friend? Since he had presumably thought they were joking before, it was entirely possible that he thought she meant only as a friend. But it was too late, and the fact that he seemed at least a little bit receptive made her want to test the waters, so to speak. She was still terrified of saying yes, she did love him, because she had already guessed how his father might feel about that. Adonis of Laconia was a rather ambitious man. Max had told Celine when they were eleven that his father wouldn't even let him have a pet, a memory that still brought tears to Celine's eyes when she thought about it. And given that many marriages in Greece were arranged, regardless of the circumstances that had made love the greatest priority for Celine and her brothers and sisters, she couldn't help but think Max's marriage would be arranged as well. Of course it might. Wasn't everything in a soldier's life planned down to the last detail? At least, that was how it seemed to Celine.
But what if she could reveal a little more...enough to know if he thought about her too? Then she might be able to tell Euterpe that at least her efforts had been well-spent, if she ever decided to go to the temple of Aphrodite again. And it wouldn't hurt as much if he felt nothing for her if Celine didn't say that yes, she loved him. Or at least that was what she told herself.
When he asked if she was okay, she startled a bit. "I...um... might need some fresh air. Walk with me?" Her voice squeaked on the last few words. Her pulse raced as he cupped her cheek; then she stood up. Even his touch on her face had made her warm... her color had to have returned at least a little bit, if she was truly as warm as she felt.
'You seemed to be convinced in what you were saying. Do you truly love me?'
He seemed somewhat confused even as she thought he might want to know the answer, so maybe not saying yes or no was best for him, too, at this point. But she still meant every word she said next.
"I think it's possible that I might."
“I think it's possible that I might.”
Maximus frowned confused by what Celine meant by that, if there was one thing he never understood about girls is why were they always so vague? Even though Maximus was close to Celine and Adelpha but the two of them often lace their statements with murky details. Perhaps it was because of the fact that they read a lot of poetry which is full of metaphors instead of direct answers. Still as a man who prefers people to be upfront with their answers, Maximus finds it frustrating whenever he's given an indirect response.
"You might?" the young man tried to ignore the smell of her perfume which was tantalizingly sweet and further drew him to see Celine's soft features. She looked good in the rainbow colored dress and the way she was startled was troubling yet..... cute. Maximus blinked, it was a bit awkward thinking Celine being uncomfortable was cute. Maybe it was the fact that she wearing the dress that he bought her and the fact that the perfume was messing with his head. The Professor did inform Maximus that there were some perfumes that had hallucinogenic properties.
"Of course Celine," Maxmus mumbled trying to put an end to the awkward silence between them. The young man began absently brushing a strands of her brown hair away from her face. As he did so, Maximus' thumb briefly brushed against her lips. "Just helping you," he smiled. "You don't want hair in your eye. In fact Colchian military states that either women tie their hair or they cut it off. Many women choose the latter so they can easily assimilate with the men."
Maximus then stared at Celine's sandals. "It is a bit hot," he said wondering why his heart started to beat faster. "You can take off your sandals or if you want to I can carry you."
What an unusual request to ask, for a moment it didn't feel like Maximus was talking, only some other person that sounded like Maximus but acted radically different then him.
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“I think it's possible that I might.”
Maximus frowned confused by what Celine meant by that, if there was one thing he never understood about girls is why were they always so vague? Even though Maximus was close to Celine and Adelpha but the two of them often lace their statements with murky details. Perhaps it was because of the fact that they read a lot of poetry which is full of metaphors instead of direct answers. Still as a man who prefers people to be upfront with their answers, Maximus finds it frustrating whenever he's given an indirect response.
"You might?" the young man tried to ignore the smell of her perfume which was tantalizingly sweet and further drew him to see Celine's soft features. She looked good in the rainbow colored dress and the way she was startled was troubling yet..... cute. Maximus blinked, it was a bit awkward thinking Celine being uncomfortable was cute. Maybe it was the fact that she wearing the dress that he bought her and the fact that the perfume was messing with his head. The Professor did inform Maximus that there were some perfumes that had hallucinogenic properties.
"Of course Celine," Maxmus mumbled trying to put an end to the awkward silence between them. The young man began absently brushing a strands of her brown hair away from her face. As he did so, Maximus' thumb briefly brushed against her lips. "Just helping you," he smiled. "You don't want hair in your eye. In fact Colchian military states that either women tie their hair or they cut it off. Many women choose the latter so they can easily assimilate with the men."
Maximus then stared at Celine's sandals. "It is a bit hot," he said wondering why his heart started to beat faster. "You can take off your sandals or if you want to I can carry you."
What an unusual request to ask, for a moment it didn't feel like Maximus was talking, only some other person that sounded like Maximus but acted radically different then him.
“I think it's possible that I might.”
Maximus frowned confused by what Celine meant by that, if there was one thing he never understood about girls is why were they always so vague? Even though Maximus was close to Celine and Adelpha but the two of them often lace their statements with murky details. Perhaps it was because of the fact that they read a lot of poetry which is full of metaphors instead of direct answers. Still as a man who prefers people to be upfront with their answers, Maximus finds it frustrating whenever he's given an indirect response.
"You might?" the young man tried to ignore the smell of her perfume which was tantalizingly sweet and further drew him to see Celine's soft features. She looked good in the rainbow colored dress and the way she was startled was troubling yet..... cute. Maximus blinked, it was a bit awkward thinking Celine being uncomfortable was cute. Maybe it was the fact that she wearing the dress that he bought her and the fact that the perfume was messing with his head. The Professor did inform Maximus that there were some perfumes that had hallucinogenic properties.
"Of course Celine," Maxmus mumbled trying to put an end to the awkward silence between them. The young man began absently brushing a strands of her brown hair away from her face. As he did so, Maximus' thumb briefly brushed against her lips. "Just helping you," he smiled. "You don't want hair in your eye. In fact Colchian military states that either women tie their hair or they cut it off. Many women choose the latter so they can easily assimilate with the men."
Maximus then stared at Celine's sandals. "It is a bit hot," he said wondering why his heart started to beat faster. "You can take off your sandals or if you want to I can carry you."
What an unusual request to ask, for a moment it didn't feel like Maximus was talking, only some other person that sounded like Maximus but acted radically different then him.
Hadn't he been listening to what she said about the poem- how she had written how she felt about him? Well, then, time to pull out all the stops and cease being so subtle. She had a feeling that today- if only because he had said they were roleplaying, they could be as honest as they wanted. She, of course, would remember this day forever, and maybe in his own way, he might too, but what would they do with what knowledge they shared?
Bury it, probably. The thought made her feel unutterably sad, but so did the notion that, no matter how they felt, they might not be fated to be together. It almost physically hurt Celine to think that this might be true, but she had thought many times that no matter how much she needed to marry for love for safety's sake, she might be no luckier in that than most. To have her desires acknowledged, even if only by her family, might have to be enough.
That, and her honesty today, might have to hold her for the rest of her life.
"I...do. I actually do love you. Maybe, in some way, I always have." It felt good to admit it, even if it was only releasing feelings that might never be able to be acted upon. Her heart beat faster when he offered to carry her, knowing that she would enjoy- almost- nothing more. Had she ever really been held, passionately but also protectively, by a man? She could imagine herself pressed against him, their lips- and the rest of their bodies- moving closer and closer until-
But no. She wanted only him. But she would not dare make love to him if they couldn't get married. She would not compromise him his possible integrity, or her own heart like that.
But a few stolen kisses didn't seem like quite enough, either. She would let him hold her, and rest in the knowledge that even if they both might deny or wonder if they had ever had this conversation in the first place, he would know that she loved him.
She smiled up at him adoringly.
"Yes, carry me as far as you want to."
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Hadn't he been listening to what she said about the poem- how she had written how she felt about him? Well, then, time to pull out all the stops and cease being so subtle. She had a feeling that today- if only because he had said they were roleplaying, they could be as honest as they wanted. She, of course, would remember this day forever, and maybe in his own way, he might too, but what would they do with what knowledge they shared?
Bury it, probably. The thought made her feel unutterably sad, but so did the notion that, no matter how they felt, they might not be fated to be together. It almost physically hurt Celine to think that this might be true, but she had thought many times that no matter how much she needed to marry for love for safety's sake, she might be no luckier in that than most. To have her desires acknowledged, even if only by her family, might have to be enough.
That, and her honesty today, might have to hold her for the rest of her life.
"I...do. I actually do love you. Maybe, in some way, I always have." It felt good to admit it, even if it was only releasing feelings that might never be able to be acted upon. Her heart beat faster when he offered to carry her, knowing that she would enjoy- almost- nothing more. Had she ever really been held, passionately but also protectively, by a man? She could imagine herself pressed against him, their lips- and the rest of their bodies- moving closer and closer until-
But no. She wanted only him. But she would not dare make love to him if they couldn't get married. She would not compromise him his possible integrity, or her own heart like that.
But a few stolen kisses didn't seem like quite enough, either. She would let him hold her, and rest in the knowledge that even if they both might deny or wonder if they had ever had this conversation in the first place, he would know that she loved him.
She smiled up at him adoringly.
"Yes, carry me as far as you want to."
Hadn't he been listening to what she said about the poem- how she had written how she felt about him? Well, then, time to pull out all the stops and cease being so subtle. She had a feeling that today- if only because he had said they were roleplaying, they could be as honest as they wanted. She, of course, would remember this day forever, and maybe in his own way, he might too, but what would they do with what knowledge they shared?
Bury it, probably. The thought made her feel unutterably sad, but so did the notion that, no matter how they felt, they might not be fated to be together. It almost physically hurt Celine to think that this might be true, but she had thought many times that no matter how much she needed to marry for love for safety's sake, she might be no luckier in that than most. To have her desires acknowledged, even if only by her family, might have to be enough.
That, and her honesty today, might have to hold her for the rest of her life.
"I...do. I actually do love you. Maybe, in some way, I always have." It felt good to admit it, even if it was only releasing feelings that might never be able to be acted upon. Her heart beat faster when he offered to carry her, knowing that she would enjoy- almost- nothing more. Had she ever really been held, passionately but also protectively, by a man? She could imagine herself pressed against him, their lips- and the rest of their bodies- moving closer and closer until-
But no. She wanted only him. But she would not dare make love to him if they couldn't get married. She would not compromise him his possible integrity, or her own heart like that.
But a few stolen kisses didn't seem like quite enough, either. She would let him hold her, and rest in the knowledge that even if they both might deny or wonder if they had ever had this conversation in the first place, he would know that she loved him.
She smiled up at him adoringly.
"Yes, carry me as far as you want to."
Maximus raised an eyebrow at Celine's statement, "you love me in some way?" he asked. What did that mean exactly? Women always had a tendency to be elusive with their words. Masking their true intent through metaphors and descriptive prose. It was rather frustrating to a person like Maximus who was raised that one must always be truthful and honest. In the battlefield honesty could be the difference between being triumphant or dying painfully. This wasn't the battlefield sadly and instead of raging barbarians, there were fellow citizens who speak in riddles.
"What does that mean Celine?" Maximus knelt down and removed Celine's sandals leaving her clean feet touching the cool ground. The young man then instinctively picked Celine up in a bridal carry. Part of Maximus was wondering why he was doing this, his mind was racking for any reason of these unusual actions he was doing to Celine. She didn't seem to mind and in fact was embracing it which was even stranger to Maximus.
Picking Celine up was no problem, she was lighter than most of the things that Maximus had lifted in his life. His father forced him to carry a boulder behind his back in reference to Atlas carrying the world beneath him. Maximus had to carry the boulder up to the top of a mini Mountain and then say a prayer to Ares. However Maximus collapsed halfway through the journey laying face first onto the ground. He remembered his father chastising him for failing on his quest saying that the world that Atlas carried symbolizes the burden that each citizen must undertake at least once in their life.
"A soldier must fight for something," his father's words echoed in his mind. "Or someone."
Was this someone Celine? As he carried the young woman out of the door he could feel her silk multi colored dress press against his arms as Maximus looked down at her. "I really like your dress," he said. "I guess I wouldn't mind if you wore everyday for the rest of your life."
What did he say? Those words that came out from Maximus' mouth in no way resembled him.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Maximus raised an eyebrow at Celine's statement, "you love me in some way?" he asked. What did that mean exactly? Women always had a tendency to be elusive with their words. Masking their true intent through metaphors and descriptive prose. It was rather frustrating to a person like Maximus who was raised that one must always be truthful and honest. In the battlefield honesty could be the difference between being triumphant or dying painfully. This wasn't the battlefield sadly and instead of raging barbarians, there were fellow citizens who speak in riddles.
"What does that mean Celine?" Maximus knelt down and removed Celine's sandals leaving her clean feet touching the cool ground. The young man then instinctively picked Celine up in a bridal carry. Part of Maximus was wondering why he was doing this, his mind was racking for any reason of these unusual actions he was doing to Celine. She didn't seem to mind and in fact was embracing it which was even stranger to Maximus.
Picking Celine up was no problem, she was lighter than most of the things that Maximus had lifted in his life. His father forced him to carry a boulder behind his back in reference to Atlas carrying the world beneath him. Maximus had to carry the boulder up to the top of a mini Mountain and then say a prayer to Ares. However Maximus collapsed halfway through the journey laying face first onto the ground. He remembered his father chastising him for failing on his quest saying that the world that Atlas carried symbolizes the burden that each citizen must undertake at least once in their life.
"A soldier must fight for something," his father's words echoed in his mind. "Or someone."
Was this someone Celine? As he carried the young woman out of the door he could feel her silk multi colored dress press against his arms as Maximus looked down at her. "I really like your dress," he said. "I guess I wouldn't mind if you wore everyday for the rest of your life."
What did he say? Those words that came out from Maximus' mouth in no way resembled him.
Maximus raised an eyebrow at Celine's statement, "you love me in some way?" he asked. What did that mean exactly? Women always had a tendency to be elusive with their words. Masking their true intent through metaphors and descriptive prose. It was rather frustrating to a person like Maximus who was raised that one must always be truthful and honest. In the battlefield honesty could be the difference between being triumphant or dying painfully. This wasn't the battlefield sadly and instead of raging barbarians, there were fellow citizens who speak in riddles.
"What does that mean Celine?" Maximus knelt down and removed Celine's sandals leaving her clean feet touching the cool ground. The young man then instinctively picked Celine up in a bridal carry. Part of Maximus was wondering why he was doing this, his mind was racking for any reason of these unusual actions he was doing to Celine. She didn't seem to mind and in fact was embracing it which was even stranger to Maximus.
Picking Celine up was no problem, she was lighter than most of the things that Maximus had lifted in his life. His father forced him to carry a boulder behind his back in reference to Atlas carrying the world beneath him. Maximus had to carry the boulder up to the top of a mini Mountain and then say a prayer to Ares. However Maximus collapsed halfway through the journey laying face first onto the ground. He remembered his father chastising him for failing on his quest saying that the world that Atlas carried symbolizes the burden that each citizen must undertake at least once in their life.
"A soldier must fight for something," his father's words echoed in his mind. "Or someone."
Was this someone Celine? As he carried the young woman out of the door he could feel her silk multi colored dress press against his arms as Maximus looked down at her. "I really like your dress," he said. "I guess I wouldn't mind if you wore everyday for the rest of your life."
What did he say? Those words that came out from Maximus' mouth in no way resembled him.
