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When a boy at least two or three years his junior began following him around like a small, annoying shadow, Pavlos of Marikas could not say that he was thrilled by the prospect. As per some deal with his father and the boy’s mother, Lesley was to be entitled to the same education that Pavlos himself received. Which was rather absurd, but who was he to question his lord father? No one at all, of course, so he kept his opinions to himself. Even if he was rather irritated by the other’s constant presence.
Lesley was like the little brother that Pavlos had never wanted, nor asked for, he thought. Except worse. Much worse. He had mentioned how annoying he was to his mother, but she hadn’t been very sympathetic. “Pavlos,” She had said sternly after one such complaint, sitting her son down next to her. “You make sure you are nice to that boy. He has never had anything good in his life, and he does not need you making things worse, do you hear me?”
And so, he had been forced to play nice. Around any members of the household, at least.
He reluctantly shared his lessons books with the other boy, warning him to only touch them with clean hands. “I don’t like marks on my things.” He declared haughtily. He mocked him behind his tutor’s back when it was his turn to read. Imagine, a slave boy learning to read. And yes, Pavlos knew full well that Lesley wasn’t actually a slave. But he might as well have been, for the world of difference between them. And of course, he pinched and prodded him when no one was looking, uncaring if he received more of the same in return.
“What sort of name is Lesley, anyway? I’ve surely never heard one so stupid-sounding. Maybe it’s a slave thing.” The young boy mocked quietly, so that his wizened old tutor would not hear and inform his father, accompanying the words with a rude hand gesture while the man’s rheumy old eyes were focused on the book in front of him, droning on and on while Pavlos waited to see what Lesley did in return.
Hopefully, it would be something interesting, like a fight, or an insult in return. He was tired of sitting still and learning on that particular warm, Artamisios afternoon. The sun was bright from what he could see from his seat, the library where they did their studying was stifling and on the verge of putting him to sleep, and he was so bored.
All he wanted was to go outside and play in the gardens, even if he had to do it under the watchful eye of the Marikas family guards, various household servants, and probably accompanied by Lesley himself. Maybe he would prove a somewhat interesting playmate, even if just as someone to hit with his wooden practice sword. In fact, the more he thought about it, the better and better that particular idea sounded.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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When a boy at least two or three years his junior began following him around like a small, annoying shadow, Pavlos of Marikas could not say that he was thrilled by the prospect. As per some deal with his father and the boy’s mother, Lesley was to be entitled to the same education that Pavlos himself received. Which was rather absurd, but who was he to question his lord father? No one at all, of course, so he kept his opinions to himself. Even if he was rather irritated by the other’s constant presence.
Lesley was like the little brother that Pavlos had never wanted, nor asked for, he thought. Except worse. Much worse. He had mentioned how annoying he was to his mother, but she hadn’t been very sympathetic. “Pavlos,” She had said sternly after one such complaint, sitting her son down next to her. “You make sure you are nice to that boy. He has never had anything good in his life, and he does not need you making things worse, do you hear me?”
And so, he had been forced to play nice. Around any members of the household, at least.
He reluctantly shared his lessons books with the other boy, warning him to only touch them with clean hands. “I don’t like marks on my things.” He declared haughtily. He mocked him behind his tutor’s back when it was his turn to read. Imagine, a slave boy learning to read. And yes, Pavlos knew full well that Lesley wasn’t actually a slave. But he might as well have been, for the world of difference between them. And of course, he pinched and prodded him when no one was looking, uncaring if he received more of the same in return.
“What sort of name is Lesley, anyway? I’ve surely never heard one so stupid-sounding. Maybe it’s a slave thing.” The young boy mocked quietly, so that his wizened old tutor would not hear and inform his father, accompanying the words with a rude hand gesture while the man’s rheumy old eyes were focused on the book in front of him, droning on and on while Pavlos waited to see what Lesley did in return.
Hopefully, it would be something interesting, like a fight, or an insult in return. He was tired of sitting still and learning on that particular warm, Artamisios afternoon. The sun was bright from what he could see from his seat, the library where they did their studying was stifling and on the verge of putting him to sleep, and he was so bored.
All he wanted was to go outside and play in the gardens, even if he had to do it under the watchful eye of the Marikas family guards, various household servants, and probably accompanied by Lesley himself. Maybe he would prove a somewhat interesting playmate, even if just as someone to hit with his wooden practice sword. In fact, the more he thought about it, the better and better that particular idea sounded.
When a boy at least two or three years his junior began following him around like a small, annoying shadow, Pavlos of Marikas could not say that he was thrilled by the prospect. As per some deal with his father and the boy’s mother, Lesley was to be entitled to the same education that Pavlos himself received. Which was rather absurd, but who was he to question his lord father? No one at all, of course, so he kept his opinions to himself. Even if he was rather irritated by the other’s constant presence.
Lesley was like the little brother that Pavlos had never wanted, nor asked for, he thought. Except worse. Much worse. He had mentioned how annoying he was to his mother, but she hadn’t been very sympathetic. “Pavlos,” She had said sternly after one such complaint, sitting her son down next to her. “You make sure you are nice to that boy. He has never had anything good in his life, and he does not need you making things worse, do you hear me?”
And so, he had been forced to play nice. Around any members of the household, at least.
He reluctantly shared his lessons books with the other boy, warning him to only touch them with clean hands. “I don’t like marks on my things.” He declared haughtily. He mocked him behind his tutor’s back when it was his turn to read. Imagine, a slave boy learning to read. And yes, Pavlos knew full well that Lesley wasn’t actually a slave. But he might as well have been, for the world of difference between them. And of course, he pinched and prodded him when no one was looking, uncaring if he received more of the same in return.
“What sort of name is Lesley, anyway? I’ve surely never heard one so stupid-sounding. Maybe it’s a slave thing.” The young boy mocked quietly, so that his wizened old tutor would not hear and inform his father, accompanying the words with a rude hand gesture while the man’s rheumy old eyes were focused on the book in front of him, droning on and on while Pavlos waited to see what Lesley did in return.
Hopefully, it would be something interesting, like a fight, or an insult in return. He was tired of sitting still and learning on that particular warm, Artamisios afternoon. The sun was bright from what he could see from his seat, the library where they did their studying was stifling and on the verge of putting him to sleep, and he was so bored.
All he wanted was to go outside and play in the gardens, even if he had to do it under the watchful eye of the Marikas family guards, various household servants, and probably accompanied by Lesley himself. Maybe he would prove a somewhat interesting playmate, even if just as someone to hit with his wooden practice sword. In fact, the more he thought about it, the better and better that particular idea sounded.
On the one hand, Lesley was happy with his current life. He had enough to eat, he didn't have to sleep in the rain, or worry about being woken up with a kick and forced to move to a different little alleyway in the middle of the night. Sure, both those things had been true on and off before, he didn't trust how long mama said they'd be here for, but that didn't mean he was going to waste it worrying. At least not consciously. Living on the streets, though, he'd never been forced to sit down for this long. (He couldn't really call it sitting still, because he didn't.) It was nice out, and half the time he was just expected to keep up with the boy who'd already started lessons before he'd arrived, which was frustrating as all get out, especially when it was interesting. Usually he ended up following Pavel around even when they weren't in lessons, just because he didn't have anything else to do, but not always.
He didn't entirely realize the other boy didn't like him, or maybe didn't care - he'd never really had a friend before, not a proper friend, and as far as he knew, shoving and name-calling an occasionally worse were just how boys behaved. The gods all knew he was frequently up to worse, and was as likely to answer a pinch with a punch as with a shove.
He threw his stylus at Pavlos. "It's Celtic you stupid Greek." Shouldn't the Marikas boy be paying attention? Maybe when he grew up he'd have servants to know all this stuff, not just to read and write for him. Mama had said maybe he'd get a job as a scribe eventually, maybe Pavlos assumed that's why Les was here learning it. Screw that for a lark; Lesley was bored. "And I'm not your scribe so learn your own lessons," he added, which made no sense whatsoever if you weren't privy to what was going on inside his head. "I'm going for a ride," he decided in a hissed whisper, and bolted out the door while the tutor's back was turned.
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On the one hand, Lesley was happy with his current life. He had enough to eat, he didn't have to sleep in the rain, or worry about being woken up with a kick and forced to move to a different little alleyway in the middle of the night. Sure, both those things had been true on and off before, he didn't trust how long mama said they'd be here for, but that didn't mean he was going to waste it worrying. At least not consciously. Living on the streets, though, he'd never been forced to sit down for this long. (He couldn't really call it sitting still, because he didn't.) It was nice out, and half the time he was just expected to keep up with the boy who'd already started lessons before he'd arrived, which was frustrating as all get out, especially when it was interesting. Usually he ended up following Pavel around even when they weren't in lessons, just because he didn't have anything else to do, but not always.
He didn't entirely realize the other boy didn't like him, or maybe didn't care - he'd never really had a friend before, not a proper friend, and as far as he knew, shoving and name-calling an occasionally worse were just how boys behaved. The gods all knew he was frequently up to worse, and was as likely to answer a pinch with a punch as with a shove.
He threw his stylus at Pavlos. "It's Celtic you stupid Greek." Shouldn't the Marikas boy be paying attention? Maybe when he grew up he'd have servants to know all this stuff, not just to read and write for him. Mama had said maybe he'd get a job as a scribe eventually, maybe Pavlos assumed that's why Les was here learning it. Screw that for a lark; Lesley was bored. "And I'm not your scribe so learn your own lessons," he added, which made no sense whatsoever if you weren't privy to what was going on inside his head. "I'm going for a ride," he decided in a hissed whisper, and bolted out the door while the tutor's back was turned.
On the one hand, Lesley was happy with his current life. He had enough to eat, he didn't have to sleep in the rain, or worry about being woken up with a kick and forced to move to a different little alleyway in the middle of the night. Sure, both those things had been true on and off before, he didn't trust how long mama said they'd be here for, but that didn't mean he was going to waste it worrying. At least not consciously. Living on the streets, though, he'd never been forced to sit down for this long. (He couldn't really call it sitting still, because he didn't.) It was nice out, and half the time he was just expected to keep up with the boy who'd already started lessons before he'd arrived, which was frustrating as all get out, especially when it was interesting. Usually he ended up following Pavel around even when they weren't in lessons, just because he didn't have anything else to do, but not always.
He didn't entirely realize the other boy didn't like him, or maybe didn't care - he'd never really had a friend before, not a proper friend, and as far as he knew, shoving and name-calling an occasionally worse were just how boys behaved. The gods all knew he was frequently up to worse, and was as likely to answer a pinch with a punch as with a shove.
He threw his stylus at Pavlos. "It's Celtic you stupid Greek." Shouldn't the Marikas boy be paying attention? Maybe when he grew up he'd have servants to know all this stuff, not just to read and write for him. Mama had said maybe he'd get a job as a scribe eventually, maybe Pavlos assumed that's why Les was here learning it. Screw that for a lark; Lesley was bored. "And I'm not your scribe so learn your own lessons," he added, which made no sense whatsoever if you weren't privy to what was going on inside his head. "I'm going for a ride," he decided in a hissed whisper, and bolted out the door while the tutor's back was turned.
Pavlos was not just bored that warm afternoon, but tired as well. Tired of being forced to behave the way a Marikas lord should, when the other boy got to do whatever he pleased, up to and including throwing his stylus at him. With reflexes borne of the two of them picking on each other almost constantly, he swatted the stylus out of the air, watching in mild interest as it landed in the middle of the words the tutor had been reading in his boring, monotone voice. Though the interruption made the old man stop to tell them off.
“I’m not stupid, you are.” He retorted childishly over the equally dull lecture, despite being several years older than the boy. How dare he call him stupid? Pavlos was anything but, not after sitting and dutifully learning his lessons all this time. For years before the other had shown up here, in fact.
The off-hand comment about being his scribe made Pavlos blink in surprise before he shook it off, deciding that the boy made no sense at all and there was no point in trying to understand him. Though, he wasn’t done surprising both Pavlos and the tutor, the former watching in mingled admiration and annoyance as Lesley darted out the door. That made up his mind.
“Lord Pavlos, I really must insist that you cease this nonsense at once and finish your lessons, or I will inform Lord Panos. This behavior is most certainly unbecoming in a—”
But Pavlos was already out the door, chasing after Lesley through the estate, past startled workers and into the warm afternoon sun. “You don’t even have a horse, you stupid peasant.” He shot back, longer legs swiftly catching up to him as both boys ran. He felt like laughing; like spreading his arms in joy and maybe tossing himself down in the sweet-smelling grass and rolling around. He was free. Even if it was only temporary, and he would be in for a world of trouble when his father found out, as the tutor had threatened…
“Do you even know how to ride?” He asked disdainfully, eyeing the other when they finally stopped, somewhere near the stables. He would be very much surprised if he did, and rather amused if he could not. So, it might not have been beating the boy with his wooden sword, but it was something to do that wasn’t learning philosophy (simplified so the younger boy could catch up and therefore even more boring than usual) or, the gods forbid, mathematics.
The horses had already been tended to for the day, Pavlos saw as he drew closer, all of the stable hands presumably taking a break from the hot sun. It drew him up short, as he wasn’t sure how to dress his own horse. Why would he? That was the job of those below him.
“Make yourself useful and saddle my mare.” He ordered as he walked into the stables, trying (and rather failing) to sound like his father. He approached her stall, not looking back to check if the other boy was following him. What else would he be doing if he wanted to ride so badly that he had fled his lessons in the middle of the day?
He put out a hand to touch the horse’s head gently, feeling a faint smile tug at his lips from just being around her. She was a dappled grey mare whom he had named Areion from his mother’s stories, reserved for nights when she was well enough to tell them to him. They had grown more infrequent as of late, and so the ones she had already told him were precious in his mind.
“You can ride the donkey.” He offered, generously, in his opinion.
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Pavlos was not just bored that warm afternoon, but tired as well. Tired of being forced to behave the way a Marikas lord should, when the other boy got to do whatever he pleased, up to and including throwing his stylus at him. With reflexes borne of the two of them picking on each other almost constantly, he swatted the stylus out of the air, watching in mild interest as it landed in the middle of the words the tutor had been reading in his boring, monotone voice. Though the interruption made the old man stop to tell them off.
“I’m not stupid, you are.” He retorted childishly over the equally dull lecture, despite being several years older than the boy. How dare he call him stupid? Pavlos was anything but, not after sitting and dutifully learning his lessons all this time. For years before the other had shown up here, in fact.
The off-hand comment about being his scribe made Pavlos blink in surprise before he shook it off, deciding that the boy made no sense at all and there was no point in trying to understand him. Though, he wasn’t done surprising both Pavlos and the tutor, the former watching in mingled admiration and annoyance as Lesley darted out the door. That made up his mind.
“Lord Pavlos, I really must insist that you cease this nonsense at once and finish your lessons, or I will inform Lord Panos. This behavior is most certainly unbecoming in a—”
But Pavlos was already out the door, chasing after Lesley through the estate, past startled workers and into the warm afternoon sun. “You don’t even have a horse, you stupid peasant.” He shot back, longer legs swiftly catching up to him as both boys ran. He felt like laughing; like spreading his arms in joy and maybe tossing himself down in the sweet-smelling grass and rolling around. He was free. Even if it was only temporary, and he would be in for a world of trouble when his father found out, as the tutor had threatened…
“Do you even know how to ride?” He asked disdainfully, eyeing the other when they finally stopped, somewhere near the stables. He would be very much surprised if he did, and rather amused if he could not. So, it might not have been beating the boy with his wooden sword, but it was something to do that wasn’t learning philosophy (simplified so the younger boy could catch up and therefore even more boring than usual) or, the gods forbid, mathematics.
The horses had already been tended to for the day, Pavlos saw as he drew closer, all of the stable hands presumably taking a break from the hot sun. It drew him up short, as he wasn’t sure how to dress his own horse. Why would he? That was the job of those below him.
“Make yourself useful and saddle my mare.” He ordered as he walked into the stables, trying (and rather failing) to sound like his father. He approached her stall, not looking back to check if the other boy was following him. What else would he be doing if he wanted to ride so badly that he had fled his lessons in the middle of the day?
He put out a hand to touch the horse’s head gently, feeling a faint smile tug at his lips from just being around her. She was a dappled grey mare whom he had named Areion from his mother’s stories, reserved for nights when she was well enough to tell them to him. They had grown more infrequent as of late, and so the ones she had already told him were precious in his mind.
“You can ride the donkey.” He offered, generously, in his opinion.
Pavlos was not just bored that warm afternoon, but tired as well. Tired of being forced to behave the way a Marikas lord should, when the other boy got to do whatever he pleased, up to and including throwing his stylus at him. With reflexes borne of the two of them picking on each other almost constantly, he swatted the stylus out of the air, watching in mild interest as it landed in the middle of the words the tutor had been reading in his boring, monotone voice. Though the interruption made the old man stop to tell them off.
“I’m not stupid, you are.” He retorted childishly over the equally dull lecture, despite being several years older than the boy. How dare he call him stupid? Pavlos was anything but, not after sitting and dutifully learning his lessons all this time. For years before the other had shown up here, in fact.
The off-hand comment about being his scribe made Pavlos blink in surprise before he shook it off, deciding that the boy made no sense at all and there was no point in trying to understand him. Though, he wasn’t done surprising both Pavlos and the tutor, the former watching in mingled admiration and annoyance as Lesley darted out the door. That made up his mind.
“Lord Pavlos, I really must insist that you cease this nonsense at once and finish your lessons, or I will inform Lord Panos. This behavior is most certainly unbecoming in a—”
But Pavlos was already out the door, chasing after Lesley through the estate, past startled workers and into the warm afternoon sun. “You don’t even have a horse, you stupid peasant.” He shot back, longer legs swiftly catching up to him as both boys ran. He felt like laughing; like spreading his arms in joy and maybe tossing himself down in the sweet-smelling grass and rolling around. He was free. Even if it was only temporary, and he would be in for a world of trouble when his father found out, as the tutor had threatened…
“Do you even know how to ride?” He asked disdainfully, eyeing the other when they finally stopped, somewhere near the stables. He would be very much surprised if he did, and rather amused if he could not. So, it might not have been beating the boy with his wooden sword, but it was something to do that wasn’t learning philosophy (simplified so the younger boy could catch up and therefore even more boring than usual) or, the gods forbid, mathematics.
The horses had already been tended to for the day, Pavlos saw as he drew closer, all of the stable hands presumably taking a break from the hot sun. It drew him up short, as he wasn’t sure how to dress his own horse. Why would he? That was the job of those below him.
“Make yourself useful and saddle my mare.” He ordered as he walked into the stables, trying (and rather failing) to sound like his father. He approached her stall, not looking back to check if the other boy was following him. What else would he be doing if he wanted to ride so badly that he had fled his lessons in the middle of the day?
He put out a hand to touch the horse’s head gently, feeling a faint smile tug at his lips from just being around her. She was a dappled grey mare whom he had named Areion from his mother’s stories, reserved for nights when she was well enough to tell them to him. They had grown more infrequent as of late, and so the ones she had already told him were precious in his mind.
“You can ride the donkey.” He offered, generously, in his opinion.
Lesley snorted at the orders, ignoring the older boy's imperious attitude. This was his lark, Pavlos could come along if he wanted, but Lesley was not going to let him take charge of it.
"Who needs a saddle," he retorted, to cover up the fact that he had no idea either where to find such things nor how to put one on. "Don't be a girl."
The scrawny boy climbed fearlessly up and over the stall door of one of Lord Pavos's favorite horses. Lesley didn't know that; nor did he know that most people considered stallions harder to ride than mares. He didn't even know the horse's name; he only snuck in here when nobody else was around. He did know, however, that this was the one who seemed to like him the best, even after having bribed all of them with fresh grass and pets at various points. He scratched the animal around the ears and kissed him on his nose. "Hello, chapaillíní, you're a good boy aren't you. You wanna take me for a ride? Yeah? Yeah."
Grabbing a double handful of mane, Lesley scrambled onto the horse's back from the convenient height of his current perch, and then leaned over farther than was entirely safe and unlatched the gate, settling himself back over the horse's withers as he predictably headed out.
"You coming or you tattling?" he demanded of Pavlos, and grinned wickedly.
The not-quite-slave boy did not, at all, know how to ride; he was, however, very good at not falling. With a naturally athletic child's instinctive sense of balance, a tight grip on his mane, and the sort of pathological fearlessness that kept him from tensing up in any way that could upset the beast between his legs, he sat easily as the horse picked up a smooth trot for a moment, then settled down again.
For his part, provided with a rider of entirely negligible weight, and given his head entirely, the horse simply headed straight out to where he knew he could find fresh grass, with no objection at all to bringing along a passenger.
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Lesley snorted at the orders, ignoring the older boy's imperious attitude. This was his lark, Pavlos could come along if he wanted, but Lesley was not going to let him take charge of it.
"Who needs a saddle," he retorted, to cover up the fact that he had no idea either where to find such things nor how to put one on. "Don't be a girl."
The scrawny boy climbed fearlessly up and over the stall door of one of Lord Pavos's favorite horses. Lesley didn't know that; nor did he know that most people considered stallions harder to ride than mares. He didn't even know the horse's name; he only snuck in here when nobody else was around. He did know, however, that this was the one who seemed to like him the best, even after having bribed all of them with fresh grass and pets at various points. He scratched the animal around the ears and kissed him on his nose. "Hello, chapaillíní, you're a good boy aren't you. You wanna take me for a ride? Yeah? Yeah."
Grabbing a double handful of mane, Lesley scrambled onto the horse's back from the convenient height of his current perch, and then leaned over farther than was entirely safe and unlatched the gate, settling himself back over the horse's withers as he predictably headed out.
"You coming or you tattling?" he demanded of Pavlos, and grinned wickedly.
The not-quite-slave boy did not, at all, know how to ride; he was, however, very good at not falling. With a naturally athletic child's instinctive sense of balance, a tight grip on his mane, and the sort of pathological fearlessness that kept him from tensing up in any way that could upset the beast between his legs, he sat easily as the horse picked up a smooth trot for a moment, then settled down again.
For his part, provided with a rider of entirely negligible weight, and given his head entirely, the horse simply headed straight out to where he knew he could find fresh grass, with no objection at all to bringing along a passenger.
Lesley snorted at the orders, ignoring the older boy's imperious attitude. This was his lark, Pavlos could come along if he wanted, but Lesley was not going to let him take charge of it.
"Who needs a saddle," he retorted, to cover up the fact that he had no idea either where to find such things nor how to put one on. "Don't be a girl."
The scrawny boy climbed fearlessly up and over the stall door of one of Lord Pavos's favorite horses. Lesley didn't know that; nor did he know that most people considered stallions harder to ride than mares. He didn't even know the horse's name; he only snuck in here when nobody else was around. He did know, however, that this was the one who seemed to like him the best, even after having bribed all of them with fresh grass and pets at various points. He scratched the animal around the ears and kissed him on his nose. "Hello, chapaillíní, you're a good boy aren't you. You wanna take me for a ride? Yeah? Yeah."
Grabbing a double handful of mane, Lesley scrambled onto the horse's back from the convenient height of his current perch, and then leaned over farther than was entirely safe and unlatched the gate, settling himself back over the horse's withers as he predictably headed out.
"You coming or you tattling?" he demanded of Pavlos, and grinned wickedly.
The not-quite-slave boy did not, at all, know how to ride; he was, however, very good at not falling. With a naturally athletic child's instinctive sense of balance, a tight grip on his mane, and the sort of pathological fearlessness that kept him from tensing up in any way that could upset the beast between his legs, he sat easily as the horse picked up a smooth trot for a moment, then settled down again.
For his part, provided with a rider of entirely negligible weight, and given his head entirely, the horse simply headed straight out to where he knew he could find fresh grass, with no objection at all to bringing along a passenger.
"Hey! That’s my father’s horse!” Pavlos shouted in indignation as the boy proved that he could, in fact ride, though it was not the donkey he had so graciously allowed him to use, and it was not with any sort of grace. He moved to stop him instead of mounting his saddleless mare, which gave Lesley yet another head start on him. Frowning, he turned to glance briefly at Areion. Could he ride without a saddle? He didn’t exactly have a choice either way, as he couldn’t let the peasant take one of his father’s prize horses on his own. What if he ran away with it? Or somehow injured it. Or…
“I’m not a girl!” The taunt interrupted his unpleasant thoughts over what could happen to the horse and made him bristle with annoyance. Mind made up, he strode back into the horse’s stall, stealing his nerves as he left the door open and mounted the side of her stall, using the leverage to get atop her back without the aid of stirrups or servants to help him. The horse whinnied in alarm, apparently sensing his stress, but he only patted her soothingly. “It’s alright, girl. Let’s catch that stupid peasant.”
And they were off.
“My father is going to have you whipped for that!” He called after him without being sure that it was true, digging his heels into his horse’s sides to egg her on. Unlike Lesley, he was perfectly at home on the back of a horse…except for the whole missing saddle, and no reins to guide her. He did his best with his hands tightly gripping her neck, trying to tug her in the direction he wanted, which was after the boy as he continued to taunt him, but the horse had other plans.
She stopped and stood still, tail twitching in annoyance like Pavlos was nothing more than a fly and shaking her head from side to side roughly. He yelped in alarm, afraid she might actually try to throw him off for the insult of trying to ride her without the proper equipment, but to his relief, she began moving again, out of the stables and in the general direction Lesley had gone in.
Sort of. After a fashion.
“Get down from there, this instant.” He huffed once he had finally caught up to boy and horse, the latter seemingly content to eat the grass at its feet. “You’re going to be in so much trouble. You’ll be lucky if you don’t get tossed out in the streets where you belong.” Who did this boy think he was, taking his father’s favorite horse and causing all this trouble? Slaves were scarcely supposed to be seen if they weren’t serving their masters, much less draw attention to themselves and behave so boorishly.
But… the boring and stuffy old room where he took his lessons and the equally boring and stuffy old tutor could have been across the Aegean Sea at the moment, for all the relevance they held to the young lord, so that was something, right? Though, he would sooner join the horse in eating the grass than ever admit such a thing.
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"Hey! That’s my father’s horse!” Pavlos shouted in indignation as the boy proved that he could, in fact ride, though it was not the donkey he had so graciously allowed him to use, and it was not with any sort of grace. He moved to stop him instead of mounting his saddleless mare, which gave Lesley yet another head start on him. Frowning, he turned to glance briefly at Areion. Could he ride without a saddle? He didn’t exactly have a choice either way, as he couldn’t let the peasant take one of his father’s prize horses on his own. What if he ran away with it? Or somehow injured it. Or…
“I’m not a girl!” The taunt interrupted his unpleasant thoughts over what could happen to the horse and made him bristle with annoyance. Mind made up, he strode back into the horse’s stall, stealing his nerves as he left the door open and mounted the side of her stall, using the leverage to get atop her back without the aid of stirrups or servants to help him. The horse whinnied in alarm, apparently sensing his stress, but he only patted her soothingly. “It’s alright, girl. Let’s catch that stupid peasant.”
And they were off.
“My father is going to have you whipped for that!” He called after him without being sure that it was true, digging his heels into his horse’s sides to egg her on. Unlike Lesley, he was perfectly at home on the back of a horse…except for the whole missing saddle, and no reins to guide her. He did his best with his hands tightly gripping her neck, trying to tug her in the direction he wanted, which was after the boy as he continued to taunt him, but the horse had other plans.
She stopped and stood still, tail twitching in annoyance like Pavlos was nothing more than a fly and shaking her head from side to side roughly. He yelped in alarm, afraid she might actually try to throw him off for the insult of trying to ride her without the proper equipment, but to his relief, she began moving again, out of the stables and in the general direction Lesley had gone in.
Sort of. After a fashion.
“Get down from there, this instant.” He huffed once he had finally caught up to boy and horse, the latter seemingly content to eat the grass at its feet. “You’re going to be in so much trouble. You’ll be lucky if you don’t get tossed out in the streets where you belong.” Who did this boy think he was, taking his father’s favorite horse and causing all this trouble? Slaves were scarcely supposed to be seen if they weren’t serving their masters, much less draw attention to themselves and behave so boorishly.
But… the boring and stuffy old room where he took his lessons and the equally boring and stuffy old tutor could have been across the Aegean Sea at the moment, for all the relevance they held to the young lord, so that was something, right? Though, he would sooner join the horse in eating the grass than ever admit such a thing.
"Hey! That’s my father’s horse!” Pavlos shouted in indignation as the boy proved that he could, in fact ride, though it was not the donkey he had so graciously allowed him to use, and it was not with any sort of grace. He moved to stop him instead of mounting his saddleless mare, which gave Lesley yet another head start on him. Frowning, he turned to glance briefly at Areion. Could he ride without a saddle? He didn’t exactly have a choice either way, as he couldn’t let the peasant take one of his father’s prize horses on his own. What if he ran away with it? Or somehow injured it. Or…
“I’m not a girl!” The taunt interrupted his unpleasant thoughts over what could happen to the horse and made him bristle with annoyance. Mind made up, he strode back into the horse’s stall, stealing his nerves as he left the door open and mounted the side of her stall, using the leverage to get atop her back without the aid of stirrups or servants to help him. The horse whinnied in alarm, apparently sensing his stress, but he only patted her soothingly. “It’s alright, girl. Let’s catch that stupid peasant.”
And they were off.
“My father is going to have you whipped for that!” He called after him without being sure that it was true, digging his heels into his horse’s sides to egg her on. Unlike Lesley, he was perfectly at home on the back of a horse…except for the whole missing saddle, and no reins to guide her. He did his best with his hands tightly gripping her neck, trying to tug her in the direction he wanted, which was after the boy as he continued to taunt him, but the horse had other plans.
She stopped and stood still, tail twitching in annoyance like Pavlos was nothing more than a fly and shaking her head from side to side roughly. He yelped in alarm, afraid she might actually try to throw him off for the insult of trying to ride her without the proper equipment, but to his relief, she began moving again, out of the stables and in the general direction Lesley had gone in.
Sort of. After a fashion.
“Get down from there, this instant.” He huffed once he had finally caught up to boy and horse, the latter seemingly content to eat the grass at its feet. “You’re going to be in so much trouble. You’ll be lucky if you don’t get tossed out in the streets where you belong.” Who did this boy think he was, taking his father’s favorite horse and causing all this trouble? Slaves were scarcely supposed to be seen if they weren’t serving their masters, much less draw attention to themselves and behave so boorishly.
But… the boring and stuffy old room where he took his lessons and the equally boring and stuffy old tutor could have been across the Aegean Sea at the moment, for all the relevance they held to the young lord, so that was something, right? Though, he would sooner join the horse in eating the grass than ever admit such a thing.
Lesley leaned back, his spine kissing the length of his mount's, and stared up at the blue sky with his hands behind his head, seemingly without any care he might slip as the stallion stepped slowly here and there searching out the tastiest blades of green.
He turned his head to glare at Pavlos. "You're no fun at all." He rolled his eyes and sighed again, turning back to stare up at the sky. "Of course I'm going to get in trouble. I'm always in trouble. I don't care." He scowled. The stupid boy was ruining his fun. He'd not just gotten on the horse, but this time actually let him out and gone for an actual ride (and hadn't even fallen off at all) and Pavlos was for some unknown reason determined that he shouldn't even have a moment of being proud of himself.
"Well if I'm getting whipped, you're getting whipped," he pronounced, with no more surety than Pavlos's own threats and an equal amount of confidence. "You're the one who let me."
He sat up again, and decided that it would be dramatically appropriate to have his horse saunter off with him at just that moment. How the heck did you tell a horse to go? kick it, or something, wasn't it?
One should not attempt to ride a finely-bred stallion based on half-remembered descriptions of stories which aren't terribly concerned with accurately describing the finer points of horsemanship.
Les yipped in surprise when he got an annoyed half-buck and a quick trot, but instinctively grabbed on with his legs and kept his balance.
A surprised yell came from behind them, not their tutor but one of the grooms yelling for another. Lesley gave his mount another kick, this one much gentler, and the horse snorted but snatched a last mouthful from the flower-bed it had found and moved on to the very end of the garden.
Hmm. No, Lesley didn't feel like getting whipped for breaking the horse out. At least, not yet. Climbing carefully to his feet, much to the confusion of the horse, he judged the distance for a moment, and then jumped for the estate wall. "Oof," he commented, dangling for a moment, his hands having just reached the top of the wall. After a couple of tries adjusting his grip, he managed to swing a leg up, and scramble up to the top of the wall. He grinned down at Pavlos as he rubbed his stinging palms on his thighs. Taller and with (theoretically) the better control to get his own mount closer to the wall, the older boy ought to be able to make the same jump. Right? Lesley swung the rest of the way over and dropped fearlessly down to the ground, then looked around to see where he was.
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Lesley leaned back, his spine kissing the length of his mount's, and stared up at the blue sky with his hands behind his head, seemingly without any care he might slip as the stallion stepped slowly here and there searching out the tastiest blades of green.
He turned his head to glare at Pavlos. "You're no fun at all." He rolled his eyes and sighed again, turning back to stare up at the sky. "Of course I'm going to get in trouble. I'm always in trouble. I don't care." He scowled. The stupid boy was ruining his fun. He'd not just gotten on the horse, but this time actually let him out and gone for an actual ride (and hadn't even fallen off at all) and Pavlos was for some unknown reason determined that he shouldn't even have a moment of being proud of himself.
"Well if I'm getting whipped, you're getting whipped," he pronounced, with no more surety than Pavlos's own threats and an equal amount of confidence. "You're the one who let me."
He sat up again, and decided that it would be dramatically appropriate to have his horse saunter off with him at just that moment. How the heck did you tell a horse to go? kick it, or something, wasn't it?
One should not attempt to ride a finely-bred stallion based on half-remembered descriptions of stories which aren't terribly concerned with accurately describing the finer points of horsemanship.
Les yipped in surprise when he got an annoyed half-buck and a quick trot, but instinctively grabbed on with his legs and kept his balance.
A surprised yell came from behind them, not their tutor but one of the grooms yelling for another. Lesley gave his mount another kick, this one much gentler, and the horse snorted but snatched a last mouthful from the flower-bed it had found and moved on to the very end of the garden.
Hmm. No, Lesley didn't feel like getting whipped for breaking the horse out. At least, not yet. Climbing carefully to his feet, much to the confusion of the horse, he judged the distance for a moment, and then jumped for the estate wall. "Oof," he commented, dangling for a moment, his hands having just reached the top of the wall. After a couple of tries adjusting his grip, he managed to swing a leg up, and scramble up to the top of the wall. He grinned down at Pavlos as he rubbed his stinging palms on his thighs. Taller and with (theoretically) the better control to get his own mount closer to the wall, the older boy ought to be able to make the same jump. Right? Lesley swung the rest of the way over and dropped fearlessly down to the ground, then looked around to see where he was.
Lesley leaned back, his spine kissing the length of his mount's, and stared up at the blue sky with his hands behind his head, seemingly without any care he might slip as the stallion stepped slowly here and there searching out the tastiest blades of green.
He turned his head to glare at Pavlos. "You're no fun at all." He rolled his eyes and sighed again, turning back to stare up at the sky. "Of course I'm going to get in trouble. I'm always in trouble. I don't care." He scowled. The stupid boy was ruining his fun. He'd not just gotten on the horse, but this time actually let him out and gone for an actual ride (and hadn't even fallen off at all) and Pavlos was for some unknown reason determined that he shouldn't even have a moment of being proud of himself.
"Well if I'm getting whipped, you're getting whipped," he pronounced, with no more surety than Pavlos's own threats and an equal amount of confidence. "You're the one who let me."
He sat up again, and decided that it would be dramatically appropriate to have his horse saunter off with him at just that moment. How the heck did you tell a horse to go? kick it, or something, wasn't it?
One should not attempt to ride a finely-bred stallion based on half-remembered descriptions of stories which aren't terribly concerned with accurately describing the finer points of horsemanship.
Les yipped in surprise when he got an annoyed half-buck and a quick trot, but instinctively grabbed on with his legs and kept his balance.
A surprised yell came from behind them, not their tutor but one of the grooms yelling for another. Lesley gave his mount another kick, this one much gentler, and the horse snorted but snatched a last mouthful from the flower-bed it had found and moved on to the very end of the garden.
Hmm. No, Lesley didn't feel like getting whipped for breaking the horse out. At least, not yet. Climbing carefully to his feet, much to the confusion of the horse, he judged the distance for a moment, and then jumped for the estate wall. "Oof," he commented, dangling for a moment, his hands having just reached the top of the wall. After a couple of tries adjusting his grip, he managed to swing a leg up, and scramble up to the top of the wall. He grinned down at Pavlos as he rubbed his stinging palms on his thighs. Taller and with (theoretically) the better control to get his own mount closer to the wall, the older boy ought to be able to make the same jump. Right? Lesley swung the rest of the way over and dropped fearlessly down to the ground, then looked around to see where he was.
Pavlos watched the stupid boy lean back, facing the wrong way on the horse as it bent to eat grass, which seemed like a surefire way to take a spill, but what did he know? Only a lot more than that slave boy, he thought resentfully, watching him. He was so calm about all the trouble he had caused.
“My father isn’t going to whip me. I’m his heir.” He declared haughtily, sitting up straighter on his horse at the reminder as he tried to inject more confidence into his voice. If he got into enough trouble, he would expect at least a good tanning, even though trouble like this was exceptionally rare for him. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he had gotten into trouble before Lesley had arrived and turned his entire prim and proper world upside down.
At the mention of letting him, however, the boy faltered, because if he said that no, he hadn’t let him, then he would be weak and unworthy of being the heir, incapable of controlling one boy who was smaller than him, even. But if he did let him… Then surely that would be worse. Once again, Pavlos was trapped. Though he still didn’t regret leaving the old tutor behind. The man was probably still lecturing to an empty room, he thought, and was briefly amused by the notion.
With nothing else to do but follow him, Pavlos urged his horse after the prize stallion, ignoring the irate yelling from the grooms behind them. The problem was, Aeiron didn’t ignore them. She turned around, ears perked up as she recognized the voice of her handler, and it was all Pavlos could do to force her onwards, to the wall bordering the gardens.
He stopped when Lesley did, watching once again in reluctant admiration as the boy jumped from horseback to the top of the wall. He made it over in a few attempts, leaving Pavlos to sigh and make the same jump himself, having a somewhat easier time of it with his longer limbs, chest awkwardly jammed against the rock wall until he could pull himself fully over it. He dropped rather gracelessly to the ground, scraping his legs beneath his tunic on the way down, the slight injuries burning in the warm air.
“We’re going to be in so much trouble.” He whispered again, almost in awe over that fact. Though there would be time enough to worry over it later. “Where are you going?” Apparently, he was going to let the boy take charge of their little adventure beyond the Marikas property. Pavlos had never been so far from home without either his father or watchful guards, but the boy had lived out here somewhere, so he should know where he was going. It only made sense to let him in this one instance. The whole thing was rather exhilarating, he thought, looking around. And perhaps just a little bit frightening.
“Where are we going?” He amended, after a few moments, since he was clearly along for the ride now. Wherever they ended up.
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Pavlos watched the stupid boy lean back, facing the wrong way on the horse as it bent to eat grass, which seemed like a surefire way to take a spill, but what did he know? Only a lot more than that slave boy, he thought resentfully, watching him. He was so calm about all the trouble he had caused.
“My father isn’t going to whip me. I’m his heir.” He declared haughtily, sitting up straighter on his horse at the reminder as he tried to inject more confidence into his voice. If he got into enough trouble, he would expect at least a good tanning, even though trouble like this was exceptionally rare for him. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he had gotten into trouble before Lesley had arrived and turned his entire prim and proper world upside down.
At the mention of letting him, however, the boy faltered, because if he said that no, he hadn’t let him, then he would be weak and unworthy of being the heir, incapable of controlling one boy who was smaller than him, even. But if he did let him… Then surely that would be worse. Once again, Pavlos was trapped. Though he still didn’t regret leaving the old tutor behind. The man was probably still lecturing to an empty room, he thought, and was briefly amused by the notion.
With nothing else to do but follow him, Pavlos urged his horse after the prize stallion, ignoring the irate yelling from the grooms behind them. The problem was, Aeiron didn’t ignore them. She turned around, ears perked up as she recognized the voice of her handler, and it was all Pavlos could do to force her onwards, to the wall bordering the gardens.
He stopped when Lesley did, watching once again in reluctant admiration as the boy jumped from horseback to the top of the wall. He made it over in a few attempts, leaving Pavlos to sigh and make the same jump himself, having a somewhat easier time of it with his longer limbs, chest awkwardly jammed against the rock wall until he could pull himself fully over it. He dropped rather gracelessly to the ground, scraping his legs beneath his tunic on the way down, the slight injuries burning in the warm air.
“We’re going to be in so much trouble.” He whispered again, almost in awe over that fact. Though there would be time enough to worry over it later. “Where are you going?” Apparently, he was going to let the boy take charge of their little adventure beyond the Marikas property. Pavlos had never been so far from home without either his father or watchful guards, but the boy had lived out here somewhere, so he should know where he was going. It only made sense to let him in this one instance. The whole thing was rather exhilarating, he thought, looking around. And perhaps just a little bit frightening.
“Where are we going?” He amended, after a few moments, since he was clearly along for the ride now. Wherever they ended up.
Pavlos watched the stupid boy lean back, facing the wrong way on the horse as it bent to eat grass, which seemed like a surefire way to take a spill, but what did he know? Only a lot more than that slave boy, he thought resentfully, watching him. He was so calm about all the trouble he had caused.
“My father isn’t going to whip me. I’m his heir.” He declared haughtily, sitting up straighter on his horse at the reminder as he tried to inject more confidence into his voice. If he got into enough trouble, he would expect at least a good tanning, even though trouble like this was exceptionally rare for him. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he had gotten into trouble before Lesley had arrived and turned his entire prim and proper world upside down.
At the mention of letting him, however, the boy faltered, because if he said that no, he hadn’t let him, then he would be weak and unworthy of being the heir, incapable of controlling one boy who was smaller than him, even. But if he did let him… Then surely that would be worse. Once again, Pavlos was trapped. Though he still didn’t regret leaving the old tutor behind. The man was probably still lecturing to an empty room, he thought, and was briefly amused by the notion.
With nothing else to do but follow him, Pavlos urged his horse after the prize stallion, ignoring the irate yelling from the grooms behind them. The problem was, Aeiron didn’t ignore them. She turned around, ears perked up as she recognized the voice of her handler, and it was all Pavlos could do to force her onwards, to the wall bordering the gardens.
He stopped when Lesley did, watching once again in reluctant admiration as the boy jumped from horseback to the top of the wall. He made it over in a few attempts, leaving Pavlos to sigh and make the same jump himself, having a somewhat easier time of it with his longer limbs, chest awkwardly jammed against the rock wall until he could pull himself fully over it. He dropped rather gracelessly to the ground, scraping his legs beneath his tunic on the way down, the slight injuries burning in the warm air.
“We’re going to be in so much trouble.” He whispered again, almost in awe over that fact. Though there would be time enough to worry over it later. “Where are you going?” Apparently, he was going to let the boy take charge of their little adventure beyond the Marikas property. Pavlos had never been so far from home without either his father or watchful guards, but the boy had lived out here somewhere, so he should know where he was going. It only made sense to let him in this one instance. The whole thing was rather exhilarating, he thought, looking around. And perhaps just a little bit frightening.
“Where are we going?” He amended, after a few moments, since he was clearly along for the ride now. Wherever they ended up.
Lesley shrugged. "I dunno." He started walking, not paying a lot of attention to where he was going. "You worry about getting in trouble a lot."
The younger boy wasn't exactly a fan of getting punished either, but that was later and it was very hard for him to feel like the future was particularly real.
He kicked a rock out of his way, and it skittered forward a few feet, so he kicked it again. The second time he caught up to it, he stopped and bent over to pick it up. He turned it over in his hands, just a perfectly normal piece of marble, broken off from some house or other. Well, perfectly normal for this part of town. Dark eyes flashed with formless, poorly understood anger, and he pitched the shard of rock, hard, at a nearby hedge. The cat that had been almost invisible in the shadow of it yowled in startled pain, then hissed warningly without daring to peek out.
"Shut up, nobody cares about you," Lesley told it unsympathetically, and started walking again. That's what everyone had always said to him and he was at least a person and not a dumb mangy rat-catcher, right? He scowled angrily. Probably not. Probably Pavlos thought the stupid furry thing was worth more than him too. Why had the stuck-up boy even followed him, anyway?
He turned left at the cross-street, completely at random.
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Lesley shrugged. "I dunno." He started walking, not paying a lot of attention to where he was going. "You worry about getting in trouble a lot."
The younger boy wasn't exactly a fan of getting punished either, but that was later and it was very hard for him to feel like the future was particularly real.
He kicked a rock out of his way, and it skittered forward a few feet, so he kicked it again. The second time he caught up to it, he stopped and bent over to pick it up. He turned it over in his hands, just a perfectly normal piece of marble, broken off from some house or other. Well, perfectly normal for this part of town. Dark eyes flashed with formless, poorly understood anger, and he pitched the shard of rock, hard, at a nearby hedge. The cat that had been almost invisible in the shadow of it yowled in startled pain, then hissed warningly without daring to peek out.
"Shut up, nobody cares about you," Lesley told it unsympathetically, and started walking again. That's what everyone had always said to him and he was at least a person and not a dumb mangy rat-catcher, right? He scowled angrily. Probably not. Probably Pavlos thought the stupid furry thing was worth more than him too. Why had the stuck-up boy even followed him, anyway?
He turned left at the cross-street, completely at random.
Lesley shrugged. "I dunno." He started walking, not paying a lot of attention to where he was going. "You worry about getting in trouble a lot."
The younger boy wasn't exactly a fan of getting punished either, but that was later and it was very hard for him to feel like the future was particularly real.
He kicked a rock out of his way, and it skittered forward a few feet, so he kicked it again. The second time he caught up to it, he stopped and bent over to pick it up. He turned it over in his hands, just a perfectly normal piece of marble, broken off from some house or other. Well, perfectly normal for this part of town. Dark eyes flashed with formless, poorly understood anger, and he pitched the shard of rock, hard, at a nearby hedge. The cat that had been almost invisible in the shadow of it yowled in startled pain, then hissed warningly without daring to peek out.
"Shut up, nobody cares about you," Lesley told it unsympathetically, and started walking again. That's what everyone had always said to him and he was at least a person and not a dumb mangy rat-catcher, right? He scowled angrily. Probably not. Probably Pavlos thought the stupid furry thing was worth more than him too. Why had the stuck-up boy even followed him, anyway?
He turned left at the cross-street, completely at random.
Pavlos worried about getting in trouble because he was never actually in trouble. It was rather frightening, the thoughts of what his father might do for this first transgression. It was a big one. Stealing his horse and escaping the Marikas home in the company of an almost-slave boy on an adventure to parts unknown. Unknown to him, at least. “If you were less stupid, you’d be worried too.” He said, none-too-kindly in the way that boys had of speaking to each other, regardless of class.
He watched as he kicked a rock, once, twice, then bent to pick it up, inspecting it rather more than Pavlos thought a rock was due. He threw it suddenly, hitting a creature he hadn’t realized was there until it was yowling and hissing at them. What an awful sound. He nearly covered his ears, and he definitely jumped in surprise.
What was wrong with this boy?
“It’s just a cat. Leave it alone.” He muttered, grudgingly following after him. How would he like it if someone threw rocks at him? Though, perhaps they had. Perhaps they had used those exact words on him, too. He remembered his mother’s words about being kind to him, and suddenly felt a bit… uncomfortable.
Even if he was a horrid boy who attacked animals for fun and did nothing but cause trouble for his betters.
As they walked to the left, the streets around the unlikely pair became to change, the roads becoming more dirt than neat paths and the houses gradually becoming smaller and closer together until they were nothing like his own home. They had walked quite far by then, Pavlos staring around him in wonder. How could an entire family possibly live in something so small?
Is that where Lesley had lived before he came to stay with them? In something like that? Something uncomfortably like guilt filled the boy, forced for the first time in his life to confront the reality that not everyone lived in a grand home like the Marikas estate. Even their slaves were much better off than the people here, he noted to himself. But the guilt was nothing more than a fleeting thought, and there was nothing he could do for anyone here anyway, and that was that.
It was as they passed through a small market, nothing set up but some rather pitiful looking fruit stands and an equally poor selection of bread, that Pavlos realized he was hungry. Quite some time had passed between his morning meal and now, his stomach grumbling in a complaint that he would satisfy with what was available if he had to. He reached for his money purse, only to discover that he wasn’t carrying it. Of course he wasn’t; one of the slaves usually handed him money when they were out if he grew hungry.
He didn’t dare complain about his hunger to the other boy though, knowing full well that he would just mock him for being soft. So, onward he walked, doing his best to ignore it, and telling himself that he would have a nice meal on the table when he got home. Fresh fruit, and bread, and maybe some honey cakes for dessert if he was lucky… He was not paying attention to where he was walking at this point, the novelty of seeing the small houses lined up on top of each other having long since worn off. He was all but ready to turn around and go home to the fanciful feast that was waiting. Even if it meant facing his father's anger.
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Pavlos worried about getting in trouble because he was never actually in trouble. It was rather frightening, the thoughts of what his father might do for this first transgression. It was a big one. Stealing his horse and escaping the Marikas home in the company of an almost-slave boy on an adventure to parts unknown. Unknown to him, at least. “If you were less stupid, you’d be worried too.” He said, none-too-kindly in the way that boys had of speaking to each other, regardless of class.
He watched as he kicked a rock, once, twice, then bent to pick it up, inspecting it rather more than Pavlos thought a rock was due. He threw it suddenly, hitting a creature he hadn’t realized was there until it was yowling and hissing at them. What an awful sound. He nearly covered his ears, and he definitely jumped in surprise.
What was wrong with this boy?
“It’s just a cat. Leave it alone.” He muttered, grudgingly following after him. How would he like it if someone threw rocks at him? Though, perhaps they had. Perhaps they had used those exact words on him, too. He remembered his mother’s words about being kind to him, and suddenly felt a bit… uncomfortable.
Even if he was a horrid boy who attacked animals for fun and did nothing but cause trouble for his betters.
As they walked to the left, the streets around the unlikely pair became to change, the roads becoming more dirt than neat paths and the houses gradually becoming smaller and closer together until they were nothing like his own home. They had walked quite far by then, Pavlos staring around him in wonder. How could an entire family possibly live in something so small?
Is that where Lesley had lived before he came to stay with them? In something like that? Something uncomfortably like guilt filled the boy, forced for the first time in his life to confront the reality that not everyone lived in a grand home like the Marikas estate. Even their slaves were much better off than the people here, he noted to himself. But the guilt was nothing more than a fleeting thought, and there was nothing he could do for anyone here anyway, and that was that.
It was as they passed through a small market, nothing set up but some rather pitiful looking fruit stands and an equally poor selection of bread, that Pavlos realized he was hungry. Quite some time had passed between his morning meal and now, his stomach grumbling in a complaint that he would satisfy with what was available if he had to. He reached for his money purse, only to discover that he wasn’t carrying it. Of course he wasn’t; one of the slaves usually handed him money when they were out if he grew hungry.
He didn’t dare complain about his hunger to the other boy though, knowing full well that he would just mock him for being soft. So, onward he walked, doing his best to ignore it, and telling himself that he would have a nice meal on the table when he got home. Fresh fruit, and bread, and maybe some honey cakes for dessert if he was lucky… He was not paying attention to where he was walking at this point, the novelty of seeing the small houses lined up on top of each other having long since worn off. He was all but ready to turn around and go home to the fanciful feast that was waiting. Even if it meant facing his father's anger.
Pavlos worried about getting in trouble because he was never actually in trouble. It was rather frightening, the thoughts of what his father might do for this first transgression. It was a big one. Stealing his horse and escaping the Marikas home in the company of an almost-slave boy on an adventure to parts unknown. Unknown to him, at least. “If you were less stupid, you’d be worried too.” He said, none-too-kindly in the way that boys had of speaking to each other, regardless of class.
He watched as he kicked a rock, once, twice, then bent to pick it up, inspecting it rather more than Pavlos thought a rock was due. He threw it suddenly, hitting a creature he hadn’t realized was there until it was yowling and hissing at them. What an awful sound. He nearly covered his ears, and he definitely jumped in surprise.
What was wrong with this boy?
“It’s just a cat. Leave it alone.” He muttered, grudgingly following after him. How would he like it if someone threw rocks at him? Though, perhaps they had. Perhaps they had used those exact words on him, too. He remembered his mother’s words about being kind to him, and suddenly felt a bit… uncomfortable.
Even if he was a horrid boy who attacked animals for fun and did nothing but cause trouble for his betters.
As they walked to the left, the streets around the unlikely pair became to change, the roads becoming more dirt than neat paths and the houses gradually becoming smaller and closer together until they were nothing like his own home. They had walked quite far by then, Pavlos staring around him in wonder. How could an entire family possibly live in something so small?
Is that where Lesley had lived before he came to stay with them? In something like that? Something uncomfortably like guilt filled the boy, forced for the first time in his life to confront the reality that not everyone lived in a grand home like the Marikas estate. Even their slaves were much better off than the people here, he noted to himself. But the guilt was nothing more than a fleeting thought, and there was nothing he could do for anyone here anyway, and that was that.
It was as they passed through a small market, nothing set up but some rather pitiful looking fruit stands and an equally poor selection of bread, that Pavlos realized he was hungry. Quite some time had passed between his morning meal and now, his stomach grumbling in a complaint that he would satisfy with what was available if he had to. He reached for his money purse, only to discover that he wasn’t carrying it. Of course he wasn’t; one of the slaves usually handed him money when they were out if he grew hungry.
He didn’t dare complain about his hunger to the other boy though, knowing full well that he would just mock him for being soft. So, onward he walked, doing his best to ignore it, and telling himself that he would have a nice meal on the table when he got home. Fresh fruit, and bread, and maybe some honey cakes for dessert if he was lucky… He was not paying attention to where he was walking at this point, the novelty of seeing the small houses lined up on top of each other having long since worn off. He was all but ready to turn around and go home to the fanciful feast that was waiting. Even if it meant facing his father's anger.
Pavlos need not have worried about being called soft. "I'm hungry," Lesley declared, looking around. If he'd been prone to recriminations, he might have commented that they should have run away after lunch, but since he couldn't do anything about it, thinking about how to do a better job next time could wait until he wasn't doing anything at the moment. If he remembered.
He wasn't looking around to find his favorites, or even the cheapest; he had no money and even if Pavlos owned his own coins (no guarantee, even if his father was rich), he hadn't had the chance to bring them. Instead, he was looking specifically for the vendor who seemed to be paying the least attention.
"Come on," he told Pavlos, winding his way through the light crowd. Moving quickly, he snatched a pair of tomatoes from a stand while the merchant was looking the other way, and danced away again. "Here," he handed half his bounty to the other boy.
"Oy, boy!" someone yelled after him. "I saw that! Get back here."
"Oh hell no," Lesley muttered, and bolted. He was fast, and nimble, and almost impossible to catch up with, but another merchant ahead of him decided to help, and grabbed his tunic. The former street rat quickly took a bite of his stolen fruit before it could be taken from him, and kicked his captor in the shin. "Leave off! Ya rich fuckers got more'n enough to share!"
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Pavlos need not have worried about being called soft. "I'm hungry," Lesley declared, looking around. If he'd been prone to recriminations, he might have commented that they should have run away after lunch, but since he couldn't do anything about it, thinking about how to do a better job next time could wait until he wasn't doing anything at the moment. If he remembered.
He wasn't looking around to find his favorites, or even the cheapest; he had no money and even if Pavlos owned his own coins (no guarantee, even if his father was rich), he hadn't had the chance to bring them. Instead, he was looking specifically for the vendor who seemed to be paying the least attention.
"Come on," he told Pavlos, winding his way through the light crowd. Moving quickly, he snatched a pair of tomatoes from a stand while the merchant was looking the other way, and danced away again. "Here," he handed half his bounty to the other boy.
"Oy, boy!" someone yelled after him. "I saw that! Get back here."
"Oh hell no," Lesley muttered, and bolted. He was fast, and nimble, and almost impossible to catch up with, but another merchant ahead of him decided to help, and grabbed his tunic. The former street rat quickly took a bite of his stolen fruit before it could be taken from him, and kicked his captor in the shin. "Leave off! Ya rich fuckers got more'n enough to share!"
Pavlos need not have worried about being called soft. "I'm hungry," Lesley declared, looking around. If he'd been prone to recriminations, he might have commented that they should have run away after lunch, but since he couldn't do anything about it, thinking about how to do a better job next time could wait until he wasn't doing anything at the moment. If he remembered.
He wasn't looking around to find his favorites, or even the cheapest; he had no money and even if Pavlos owned his own coins (no guarantee, even if his father was rich), he hadn't had the chance to bring them. Instead, he was looking specifically for the vendor who seemed to be paying the least attention.
"Come on," he told Pavlos, winding his way through the light crowd. Moving quickly, he snatched a pair of tomatoes from a stand while the merchant was looking the other way, and danced away again. "Here," he handed half his bounty to the other boy.
"Oy, boy!" someone yelled after him. "I saw that! Get back here."
"Oh hell no," Lesley muttered, and bolted. He was fast, and nimble, and almost impossible to catch up with, but another merchant ahead of him decided to help, and grabbed his tunic. The former street rat quickly took a bite of his stolen fruit before it could be taken from him, and kicked his captor in the shin. "Leave off! Ya rich fuckers got more'n enough to share!"
Pavlos hadn’t been paying as much attention to the other boy as he should have, barely hearing his declaration of hunger. Though he was definitely paying attention as a tomato was shoved into his hands. It was not something he would have chosen to eat on his own, but he couldn’t afford to be picky at the moment—And wait. Where had Lesley gotten the money for food? He hadn’t seen a single hint of a coin purse…
It was a little too slow to dawn on him, so surprised was he by the act of theft Lesley had committed in the name of hunger. He nearly dropped the tomato as someone yelled, telling him to come back, which Lesley obviously ignored, running right past one of the merchants who grabbed him and kept him from getting away.
“Let him go.” He demanded as he stomped closer, voice not loud enough to be heard over the commotion, so he raised it, “I said, let him go!” Not quite shouting, but keeping his voice firm and trying to channel his father. Unfortunately, the men were just irritated by his attempts to order them around, the wronged merchant grabbing for his tunic as well and practically hauling him off his feet.
“Is that your slave, boy? Did you tell him to steal from me?” He boomed menacingly, and Pavlos didn’t even have his practice sword to hit him with. He did have the tomato though, which he flung into the man’s face. The overly ripened fruit burst, spewing seeds and tomato juice everywhere, and the man in his utter surprise let him go.
Pavlos didn’t waste any time. He bolted straight for the merchant holding Lesley while the other was still recovering, howling in anger and pain behind him as he punched the man in the gut with all his might. The man swore, automatically letting his captive go to protect his paunch, and Pavlos trusted that Lesley would be right behind him as he continued running.
He ran until he couldn’t anymore, until his breaths came in panting gasps and it was a struggle to push himself any further. He was sure that fat merchant hadn’t chased them this far anyway, so he stopped in the shadows of a small dwelling, leaning against the wall as he caught his breath.
“I think… we made it.” He panted, sliding down to sit where he was for a moment, heedless of his tunic which had been ripped and stained with splatters of tomato juice in the struggle. That, coupled with his messy hair left him looking as unkept as any of the other children that lived around here.
More or less.
“Why did you do that?” Pavlos demanded. Then he burst out laughing, picturing the shocked merchant with tomato bits all over his face. “Oh gods, did you see his face?” It had been both terrifying and highly amusing in hindsight. It was no stretch to say it was the boldest thing the young Marikas lord had ever done.
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Pavlos hadn’t been paying as much attention to the other boy as he should have, barely hearing his declaration of hunger. Though he was definitely paying attention as a tomato was shoved into his hands. It was not something he would have chosen to eat on his own, but he couldn’t afford to be picky at the moment—And wait. Where had Lesley gotten the money for food? He hadn’t seen a single hint of a coin purse…
It was a little too slow to dawn on him, so surprised was he by the act of theft Lesley had committed in the name of hunger. He nearly dropped the tomato as someone yelled, telling him to come back, which Lesley obviously ignored, running right past one of the merchants who grabbed him and kept him from getting away.
“Let him go.” He demanded as he stomped closer, voice not loud enough to be heard over the commotion, so he raised it, “I said, let him go!” Not quite shouting, but keeping his voice firm and trying to channel his father. Unfortunately, the men were just irritated by his attempts to order them around, the wronged merchant grabbing for his tunic as well and practically hauling him off his feet.
“Is that your slave, boy? Did you tell him to steal from me?” He boomed menacingly, and Pavlos didn’t even have his practice sword to hit him with. He did have the tomato though, which he flung into the man’s face. The overly ripened fruit burst, spewing seeds and tomato juice everywhere, and the man in his utter surprise let him go.
Pavlos didn’t waste any time. He bolted straight for the merchant holding Lesley while the other was still recovering, howling in anger and pain behind him as he punched the man in the gut with all his might. The man swore, automatically letting his captive go to protect his paunch, and Pavlos trusted that Lesley would be right behind him as he continued running.
He ran until he couldn’t anymore, until his breaths came in panting gasps and it was a struggle to push himself any further. He was sure that fat merchant hadn’t chased them this far anyway, so he stopped in the shadows of a small dwelling, leaning against the wall as he caught his breath.
“I think… we made it.” He panted, sliding down to sit where he was for a moment, heedless of his tunic which had been ripped and stained with splatters of tomato juice in the struggle. That, coupled with his messy hair left him looking as unkept as any of the other children that lived around here.
More or less.
“Why did you do that?” Pavlos demanded. Then he burst out laughing, picturing the shocked merchant with tomato bits all over his face. “Oh gods, did you see his face?” It had been both terrifying and highly amusing in hindsight. It was no stretch to say it was the boldest thing the young Marikas lord had ever done.
Pavlos hadn’t been paying as much attention to the other boy as he should have, barely hearing his declaration of hunger. Though he was definitely paying attention as a tomato was shoved into his hands. It was not something he would have chosen to eat on his own, but he couldn’t afford to be picky at the moment—And wait. Where had Lesley gotten the money for food? He hadn’t seen a single hint of a coin purse…
It was a little too slow to dawn on him, so surprised was he by the act of theft Lesley had committed in the name of hunger. He nearly dropped the tomato as someone yelled, telling him to come back, which Lesley obviously ignored, running right past one of the merchants who grabbed him and kept him from getting away.
“Let him go.” He demanded as he stomped closer, voice not loud enough to be heard over the commotion, so he raised it, “I said, let him go!” Not quite shouting, but keeping his voice firm and trying to channel his father. Unfortunately, the men were just irritated by his attempts to order them around, the wronged merchant grabbing for his tunic as well and practically hauling him off his feet.
“Is that your slave, boy? Did you tell him to steal from me?” He boomed menacingly, and Pavlos didn’t even have his practice sword to hit him with. He did have the tomato though, which he flung into the man’s face. The overly ripened fruit burst, spewing seeds and tomato juice everywhere, and the man in his utter surprise let him go.
Pavlos didn’t waste any time. He bolted straight for the merchant holding Lesley while the other was still recovering, howling in anger and pain behind him as he punched the man in the gut with all his might. The man swore, automatically letting his captive go to protect his paunch, and Pavlos trusted that Lesley would be right behind him as he continued running.
He ran until he couldn’t anymore, until his breaths came in panting gasps and it was a struggle to push himself any further. He was sure that fat merchant hadn’t chased them this far anyway, so he stopped in the shadows of a small dwelling, leaning against the wall as he caught his breath.
“I think… we made it.” He panted, sliding down to sit where he was for a moment, heedless of his tunic which had been ripped and stained with splatters of tomato juice in the struggle. That, coupled with his messy hair left him looking as unkept as any of the other children that lived around here.
More or less.
“Why did you do that?” Pavlos demanded. Then he burst out laughing, picturing the shocked merchant with tomato bits all over his face. “Oh gods, did you see his face?” It had been both terrifying and highly amusing in hindsight. It was no stretch to say it was the boldest thing the young Marikas lord had ever done.
While it took very little provocation for Lesley to hit someone, whether or not it was a good idea - as proven by his annoyed kick to the man's shins - experience suggested that he'd most likely just get yelled at, cuffed hard, and sent on his way, and hadn't yet made a really solid effort at escape when Pavlos decided to rescue him. He did not, however, need any encouragement to bolt when he was dropped, this time doing a better job of watching where he was going.
When the older boy finally slowed to a stop, Lesley realized he hadn't lost his tomato, and bit into it again with a grin. He shrugged at the question. He'd been hungry, and hadn't had any coin, but also hadn't been hungry enough to try working or begging for a full meal. What else was a boy supposed to do? "Why'd you yell at them?" Anyone else would have run from the start, and trusted Les to either squirm his way out, or take his lumps and deal; and frankly he'd have done the same to another boy too, so no hard feelings. Then he realized that Pavlos was the reason he hadn't lost his loot, while the older boy had, and held out the remaining half a tomato. "You want the rest?"
After a moment's thought, he added, "You should probably rinse that out. Don't wanna get in trouble." He laughed, mostly from excitement rather than meaning to mock the other boy. "Come on, we can go for a swim too." What else were boys with too much free time to do on a summer afternoon, after all?
He headed confidently down towards the docks; closer now than the nearest public fountain. The sailors didn't like having boys swimming around the boats, but it was faster to head there and then follow the shoreline somewhere they weren't in anyone's way.
"Oh hi Iason!" he called out, seeing the old fisherman puttering around his boat, drawn up on the sandy beach rather than paying for moorage at the wooden docks. Iason only fished to feed his family these days; he didn't have the endurance to spend all day every day on the water any more, and his son was old enough to earn his own income. "Iason's nice," he informed Pavlos. "He'll give me a fish for helping untangle his nets sometimes."
"Well hello, young Lesley," the old man returned his greeting. "I haven't seen you in a long time. What have you been up to?"
Les shrugged. "We were going to go swimming," he said, splashing through the ankle-deep water and clambering up onto the boulder Iason used as a mooring-tie. "Mama's a slave now."
Sharp black eyes took in the quality of Lesley's new friend's tunica. "Ah. And you?"
"Dunno. They feed me though. Oh. This is Pavlos."
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While it took very little provocation for Lesley to hit someone, whether or not it was a good idea - as proven by his annoyed kick to the man's shins - experience suggested that he'd most likely just get yelled at, cuffed hard, and sent on his way, and hadn't yet made a really solid effort at escape when Pavlos decided to rescue him. He did not, however, need any encouragement to bolt when he was dropped, this time doing a better job of watching where he was going.
When the older boy finally slowed to a stop, Lesley realized he hadn't lost his tomato, and bit into it again with a grin. He shrugged at the question. He'd been hungry, and hadn't had any coin, but also hadn't been hungry enough to try working or begging for a full meal. What else was a boy supposed to do? "Why'd you yell at them?" Anyone else would have run from the start, and trusted Les to either squirm his way out, or take his lumps and deal; and frankly he'd have done the same to another boy too, so no hard feelings. Then he realized that Pavlos was the reason he hadn't lost his loot, while the older boy had, and held out the remaining half a tomato. "You want the rest?"
After a moment's thought, he added, "You should probably rinse that out. Don't wanna get in trouble." He laughed, mostly from excitement rather than meaning to mock the other boy. "Come on, we can go for a swim too." What else were boys with too much free time to do on a summer afternoon, after all?
He headed confidently down towards the docks; closer now than the nearest public fountain. The sailors didn't like having boys swimming around the boats, but it was faster to head there and then follow the shoreline somewhere they weren't in anyone's way.
"Oh hi Iason!" he called out, seeing the old fisherman puttering around his boat, drawn up on the sandy beach rather than paying for moorage at the wooden docks. Iason only fished to feed his family these days; he didn't have the endurance to spend all day every day on the water any more, and his son was old enough to earn his own income. "Iason's nice," he informed Pavlos. "He'll give me a fish for helping untangle his nets sometimes."
"Well hello, young Lesley," the old man returned his greeting. "I haven't seen you in a long time. What have you been up to?"
Les shrugged. "We were going to go swimming," he said, splashing through the ankle-deep water and clambering up onto the boulder Iason used as a mooring-tie. "Mama's a slave now."
Sharp black eyes took in the quality of Lesley's new friend's tunica. "Ah. And you?"
"Dunno. They feed me though. Oh. This is Pavlos."
While it took very little provocation for Lesley to hit someone, whether or not it was a good idea - as proven by his annoyed kick to the man's shins - experience suggested that he'd most likely just get yelled at, cuffed hard, and sent on his way, and hadn't yet made a really solid effort at escape when Pavlos decided to rescue him. He did not, however, need any encouragement to bolt when he was dropped, this time doing a better job of watching where he was going.
When the older boy finally slowed to a stop, Lesley realized he hadn't lost his tomato, and bit into it again with a grin. He shrugged at the question. He'd been hungry, and hadn't had any coin, but also hadn't been hungry enough to try working or begging for a full meal. What else was a boy supposed to do? "Why'd you yell at them?" Anyone else would have run from the start, and trusted Les to either squirm his way out, or take his lumps and deal; and frankly he'd have done the same to another boy too, so no hard feelings. Then he realized that Pavlos was the reason he hadn't lost his loot, while the older boy had, and held out the remaining half a tomato. "You want the rest?"
After a moment's thought, he added, "You should probably rinse that out. Don't wanna get in trouble." He laughed, mostly from excitement rather than meaning to mock the other boy. "Come on, we can go for a swim too." What else were boys with too much free time to do on a summer afternoon, after all?
He headed confidently down towards the docks; closer now than the nearest public fountain. The sailors didn't like having boys swimming around the boats, but it was faster to head there and then follow the shoreline somewhere they weren't in anyone's way.
"Oh hi Iason!" he called out, seeing the old fisherman puttering around his boat, drawn up on the sandy beach rather than paying for moorage at the wooden docks. Iason only fished to feed his family these days; he didn't have the endurance to spend all day every day on the water any more, and his son was old enough to earn his own income. "Iason's nice," he informed Pavlos. "He'll give me a fish for helping untangle his nets sometimes."
"Well hello, young Lesley," the old man returned his greeting. "I haven't seen you in a long time. What have you been up to?"
Les shrugged. "We were going to go swimming," he said, splashing through the ankle-deep water and clambering up onto the boulder Iason used as a mooring-tie. "Mama's a slave now."
Sharp black eyes took in the quality of Lesley's new friend's tunica. "Ah. And you?"
"Dunno. They feed me though. Oh. This is Pavlos."
Pavlos took the tomato half, glancing down at the part that had been bitten with a grimace of distaste. Then he ate it anyway, accepting it for the precious gift that it was when they had no other food and he was still quite hungry. Anything, even a tomato, was better than nothing. He gave him a slight nod in thanks, wiping the tomato juice from his mouth with the back of his hand, which he then wiped on his tunic, which was too far gone to be saved anyway.
“What else was I supposed to do? You’re my responsibility, and it looks bad if we can’t defend our own slaves.” He huffed. That was what his father did; he was responsible for those underneath him, and as his heir, Pavlos would do no less.
“You can rinse it, since it’s your fault it got dirty.” He added, in the same imperious tone in which he had told him to take the donkey earlier on in their little adventure. Though they both knew how well that had worked.
He was excited by the mention of swimming, forgetting all about making the boy scrub his ruined tunic as he followed him to the docks, which he had obviously never seen before. His gaze landed on the old fisherman that Lesley seemed to know, somewhat curious. He didn’t look like much, but he was nice enough to talk to the child of a slave, so he supposed that made him worth at least a hello.
“Pavlos of Marikas.” He introduced himself, following Lesley into the water, because he would rather swim than stand around talking. For that, he would have just stayed home and attended one of his family’s gatherings, where there was nothing to do but stand around and talk about dull things with equally dull people. He tried to climb the rather slippery boulder, but fell off into the water, cheeks burning slightly in embarrassment that was soon forgotten in lieu of how pleasant it felt against his skin.
Pavlos waded into deeper water with a pleased sigh, the cooler temperature of the sea making the hot summer day more bearable, even when his earlier injuries smarted in the salt water. Yes, this was perfect, he thought, diving under and resurfacing in a spray of water droplets, shaking his head like a wet dog.
“Aren’t you coming in?” He called to Lesley, aiming a few playful splashes in his direction with his kicking feet. “I bet I can swim faster than you!”
He thought that sort of taunt was a surefire way to get him in the water, and that way, even if it turned out Lesley could outswim him, there was no harm done and Pavlos had a race to entertain himself with.
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Pavlos took the tomato half, glancing down at the part that had been bitten with a grimace of distaste. Then he ate it anyway, accepting it for the precious gift that it was when they had no other food and he was still quite hungry. Anything, even a tomato, was better than nothing. He gave him a slight nod in thanks, wiping the tomato juice from his mouth with the back of his hand, which he then wiped on his tunic, which was too far gone to be saved anyway.
“What else was I supposed to do? You’re my responsibility, and it looks bad if we can’t defend our own slaves.” He huffed. That was what his father did; he was responsible for those underneath him, and as his heir, Pavlos would do no less.
“You can rinse it, since it’s your fault it got dirty.” He added, in the same imperious tone in which he had told him to take the donkey earlier on in their little adventure. Though they both knew how well that had worked.
He was excited by the mention of swimming, forgetting all about making the boy scrub his ruined tunic as he followed him to the docks, which he had obviously never seen before. His gaze landed on the old fisherman that Lesley seemed to know, somewhat curious. He didn’t look like much, but he was nice enough to talk to the child of a slave, so he supposed that made him worth at least a hello.
“Pavlos of Marikas.” He introduced himself, following Lesley into the water, because he would rather swim than stand around talking. For that, he would have just stayed home and attended one of his family’s gatherings, where there was nothing to do but stand around and talk about dull things with equally dull people. He tried to climb the rather slippery boulder, but fell off into the water, cheeks burning slightly in embarrassment that was soon forgotten in lieu of how pleasant it felt against his skin.
Pavlos waded into deeper water with a pleased sigh, the cooler temperature of the sea making the hot summer day more bearable, even when his earlier injuries smarted in the salt water. Yes, this was perfect, he thought, diving under and resurfacing in a spray of water droplets, shaking his head like a wet dog.
“Aren’t you coming in?” He called to Lesley, aiming a few playful splashes in his direction with his kicking feet. “I bet I can swim faster than you!”
He thought that sort of taunt was a surefire way to get him in the water, and that way, even if it turned out Lesley could outswim him, there was no harm done and Pavlos had a race to entertain himself with.
Pavlos took the tomato half, glancing down at the part that had been bitten with a grimace of distaste. Then he ate it anyway, accepting it for the precious gift that it was when they had no other food and he was still quite hungry. Anything, even a tomato, was better than nothing. He gave him a slight nod in thanks, wiping the tomato juice from his mouth with the back of his hand, which he then wiped on his tunic, which was too far gone to be saved anyway.
“What else was I supposed to do? You’re my responsibility, and it looks bad if we can’t defend our own slaves.” He huffed. That was what his father did; he was responsible for those underneath him, and as his heir, Pavlos would do no less.
“You can rinse it, since it’s your fault it got dirty.” He added, in the same imperious tone in which he had told him to take the donkey earlier on in their little adventure. Though they both knew how well that had worked.
He was excited by the mention of swimming, forgetting all about making the boy scrub his ruined tunic as he followed him to the docks, which he had obviously never seen before. His gaze landed on the old fisherman that Lesley seemed to know, somewhat curious. He didn’t look like much, but he was nice enough to talk to the child of a slave, so he supposed that made him worth at least a hello.
“Pavlos of Marikas.” He introduced himself, following Lesley into the water, because he would rather swim than stand around talking. For that, he would have just stayed home and attended one of his family’s gatherings, where there was nothing to do but stand around and talk about dull things with equally dull people. He tried to climb the rather slippery boulder, but fell off into the water, cheeks burning slightly in embarrassment that was soon forgotten in lieu of how pleasant it felt against his skin.
Pavlos waded into deeper water with a pleased sigh, the cooler temperature of the sea making the hot summer day more bearable, even when his earlier injuries smarted in the salt water. Yes, this was perfect, he thought, diving under and resurfacing in a spray of water droplets, shaking his head like a wet dog.
“Aren’t you coming in?” He called to Lesley, aiming a few playful splashes in his direction with his kicking feet. “I bet I can swim faster than you!”
He thought that sort of taunt was a surefire way to get him in the water, and that way, even if it turned out Lesley could outswim him, there was no harm done and Pavlos had a race to entertain himself with.
"Yeah? Nah."
A challenge was indeed the way to get Lesley to do anything, and he quickly pulled his tunic over his head to leave it on the boulder before splashing back down into the water and pushing off to give himself a bit of initial speed. He was a decent swimmer - what overly active boy living in a sea-port wasn't? - though Pavlos had the advantage in power due to his size. The younger boy, however, wasn't contenting with the drag of a water-laden tunic, and didn't give the lord's son the time to correct that error.
He headed straight out from shore, heedless of waves or current, not that either was terribly much of a threat until one was well away from the shelter of the port. They hadn't specified a set distance, but Lesley just figured it would be obvious when the answer had become obvious, and anyway it wasn't like it mattered who won. Competitive he might be, but the boy had never been a sore looser.
In the eager rush of exercise, he completely forgot about both Pavlos's annoying bossiness and the unexpected comment about protecting his slaves - though he would remember much later, and spend quite a bit of time thinking about both. At the moment, though, the sun was shining on the sea, and he was free.
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"Yeah? Nah."
A challenge was indeed the way to get Lesley to do anything, and he quickly pulled his tunic over his head to leave it on the boulder before splashing back down into the water and pushing off to give himself a bit of initial speed. He was a decent swimmer - what overly active boy living in a sea-port wasn't? - though Pavlos had the advantage in power due to his size. The younger boy, however, wasn't contenting with the drag of a water-laden tunic, and didn't give the lord's son the time to correct that error.
He headed straight out from shore, heedless of waves or current, not that either was terribly much of a threat until one was well away from the shelter of the port. They hadn't specified a set distance, but Lesley just figured it would be obvious when the answer had become obvious, and anyway it wasn't like it mattered who won. Competitive he might be, but the boy had never been a sore looser.
In the eager rush of exercise, he completely forgot about both Pavlos's annoying bossiness and the unexpected comment about protecting his slaves - though he would remember much later, and spend quite a bit of time thinking about both. At the moment, though, the sun was shining on the sea, and he was free.
"Yeah? Nah."
A challenge was indeed the way to get Lesley to do anything, and he quickly pulled his tunic over his head to leave it on the boulder before splashing back down into the water and pushing off to give himself a bit of initial speed. He was a decent swimmer - what overly active boy living in a sea-port wasn't? - though Pavlos had the advantage in power due to his size. The younger boy, however, wasn't contenting with the drag of a water-laden tunic, and didn't give the lord's son the time to correct that error.
He headed straight out from shore, heedless of waves or current, not that either was terribly much of a threat until one was well away from the shelter of the port. They hadn't specified a set distance, but Lesley just figured it would be obvious when the answer had become obvious, and anyway it wasn't like it mattered who won. Competitive he might be, but the boy had never been a sore looser.
In the eager rush of exercise, he completely forgot about both Pavlos's annoying bossiness and the unexpected comment about protecting his slaves - though he would remember much later, and spend quite a bit of time thinking about both. At the moment, though, the sun was shining on the sea, and he was free.
Pavlos watched him pull his tunic off before he jumped into the water, which turned out to be a smart decision, he realized in hindsight after they started swimming and the fabric hindered his movements.
And in the time it took him to try and decide, Lesley swam past him. “Hey! I didn’t say to go yet!” He complained, rewarded with a mouthful of salt water for the effort as a wave slapped him in the face. He swam after him, trying to catch up. He would waste time either way if he took off his tunic now, not to mention he ran the risk of losing it to the waves, and he didn’t much fancy walking home naked under the unforgiving summer sun.
It was a tie, insomuch as it could be a tie when they had never agreed on a distance for the impromptu race. Pavlos, at least, was not too keen on getting much further from the shore, so he stopped and allowed himself to drift along, floating lazily on the waves. “That was a tie.” He announced, in case it wasn’t glaringly obvious, splashing in his direction to punctuate the words. “Although, you cheated. Now I see why slaves aren’t allowed to compete in the games.”
He lost track of time, but when they finally emerged from the water, Helios’ chariot had begun its descent, merchants closing up their stalls and beginning to head home for the evening.
“We should hurry.” He said, biting his lip as he gazed up at the sky for a moment. It was too much to hope for that his father had not either noticed his absence or been told by one of the household staff. There was trouble waiting for them both, as surely as the sun would rise again in the morning.
He fell silent after that, intent on getting back to the Marikas house as fast as possible, though he paid enough attention to his surroundings to duck as he walked past the fruit stalls they had stolen from. He needn’t have bothered; the merchants were busy putting away their wares and counting the coin they had made. Which was good, because he didn’t have any more tomatoes to throw in anyone’s face this time.
Hopefully Lesley wasn’t hungry, or he would probably try to steal something else, though there was little hope of that either, as Pavlos himself was starving like he had never ate before. He thought longingly of the meal waiting for him, and quickened his step.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Pavlos watched him pull his tunic off before he jumped into the water, which turned out to be a smart decision, he realized in hindsight after they started swimming and the fabric hindered his movements.
And in the time it took him to try and decide, Lesley swam past him. “Hey! I didn’t say to go yet!” He complained, rewarded with a mouthful of salt water for the effort as a wave slapped him in the face. He swam after him, trying to catch up. He would waste time either way if he took off his tunic now, not to mention he ran the risk of losing it to the waves, and he didn’t much fancy walking home naked under the unforgiving summer sun.
It was a tie, insomuch as it could be a tie when they had never agreed on a distance for the impromptu race. Pavlos, at least, was not too keen on getting much further from the shore, so he stopped and allowed himself to drift along, floating lazily on the waves. “That was a tie.” He announced, in case it wasn’t glaringly obvious, splashing in his direction to punctuate the words. “Although, you cheated. Now I see why slaves aren’t allowed to compete in the games.”
He lost track of time, but when they finally emerged from the water, Helios’ chariot had begun its descent, merchants closing up their stalls and beginning to head home for the evening.
“We should hurry.” He said, biting his lip as he gazed up at the sky for a moment. It was too much to hope for that his father had not either noticed his absence or been told by one of the household staff. There was trouble waiting for them both, as surely as the sun would rise again in the morning.
He fell silent after that, intent on getting back to the Marikas house as fast as possible, though he paid enough attention to his surroundings to duck as he walked past the fruit stalls they had stolen from. He needn’t have bothered; the merchants were busy putting away their wares and counting the coin they had made. Which was good, because he didn’t have any more tomatoes to throw in anyone’s face this time.
Hopefully Lesley wasn’t hungry, or he would probably try to steal something else, though there was little hope of that either, as Pavlos himself was starving like he had never ate before. He thought longingly of the meal waiting for him, and quickened his step.
Pavlos watched him pull his tunic off before he jumped into the water, which turned out to be a smart decision, he realized in hindsight after they started swimming and the fabric hindered his movements.
And in the time it took him to try and decide, Lesley swam past him. “Hey! I didn’t say to go yet!” He complained, rewarded with a mouthful of salt water for the effort as a wave slapped him in the face. He swam after him, trying to catch up. He would waste time either way if he took off his tunic now, not to mention he ran the risk of losing it to the waves, and he didn’t much fancy walking home naked under the unforgiving summer sun.
It was a tie, insomuch as it could be a tie when they had never agreed on a distance for the impromptu race. Pavlos, at least, was not too keen on getting much further from the shore, so he stopped and allowed himself to drift along, floating lazily on the waves. “That was a tie.” He announced, in case it wasn’t glaringly obvious, splashing in his direction to punctuate the words. “Although, you cheated. Now I see why slaves aren’t allowed to compete in the games.”
He lost track of time, but when they finally emerged from the water, Helios’ chariot had begun its descent, merchants closing up their stalls and beginning to head home for the evening.
“We should hurry.” He said, biting his lip as he gazed up at the sky for a moment. It was too much to hope for that his father had not either noticed his absence or been told by one of the household staff. There was trouble waiting for them both, as surely as the sun would rise again in the morning.
He fell silent after that, intent on getting back to the Marikas house as fast as possible, though he paid enough attention to his surroundings to duck as he walked past the fruit stalls they had stolen from. He needn’t have bothered; the merchants were busy putting away their wares and counting the coin they had made. Which was good, because he didn’t have any more tomatoes to throw in anyone’s face this time.
Hopefully Lesley wasn’t hungry, or he would probably try to steal something else, though there was little hope of that either, as Pavlos himself was starving like he had never ate before. He thought longingly of the meal waiting for him, and quickened his step.