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The temple of Poseidon was one of the few buildings dedicated to the Gods in Athenia that was built in the lower levels of the city. Not only was it, in fact, outside of the Inner Circle, but it was on the very lowest circle of the capitol, down to the north of the docks and main harbour. This was not, however, created as a sign of disrespect to the God of the Sea, but an effort to show additional worship to his greatness, instead.
Arranged as a circular building on the very edit of the Athenian land, the structure was simply a dais with a shallow dome roof, its ceiling and floor separated by several dozens of columns. There were no walls and no hindrances to those who entered - only a raised platform in the centre of the circular chamber with a sacrificial block in the prime location to reflect the rays of the rising sun.
The entire structure was made of white marble with beautiful and high detailed sculptures of the creatures and people of the sea wrapped around every column. In the centre, standing over the ceremonial block, was a statue testament to Poseidon himself, a powerful and handsome alabaster impression over fifteen feet tall and holding his trident proudly aloft.
Whether from the waves of the sea, or the polish of the servants cleaning the marble twice daily, the entire temple shone like a beacon both at dawn and at dusk as the sun rose and set on either side, calling the people to worship.
Today, Persephone needed no such call and, instead, came to offer her prayers at midday when the temple was relatively quiet.
Stepping inside, Persephone wore no cloak to be removed but she slipped free from her sandals as moved gracefully up the initial steps inside the temple's sacred space.
In honour of the great God, Persephone wore an elegant gown of the palest blues and shimmering aquamarines, the gauzy, filmy material looking like flotsam over a broken wave. Her jewellery was silver to highlight the elegant blues and she wore only silver hair adornments - no crown or extravagant symbol of her own rank, as useless as it was before a God.
The marble was cold beneath Persephone's feel and the stone slick with the dew and spray from the sea breeze than now lift the tendrils of her hair.
Careful, so as not to slip, Persephone lowered herself to the ground before the sacrificial platform and bent her head and clasped hands in her lap.
With her guards watching from the shoreline only a few steps away, Persephone made her prayers within her mind, seeking blessing, mercy and safe passage for those of her people intending to enter into the tri-annual sailing race scheduled for only a few days away. She internally - as her sister would externally - dedicated the race in his honour and she would have sacrifices made in his name when the race was concluded - as was tradition. For now, she simply offered her own personal prayers and left several pieces of jewellery and a bowl of fruit from the royal gardens as a token.
Wrapping her arms around herself as she knelt and kept her eyes shut, Persephone took a moment to enjoy the sea air, thanking Poseidon for its purifying and refreshing effect.
It was only a week now before the Senate convened to decide the fate of her and her family. Dear Gods, she hoped she was doing the right thing...
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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The temple of Poseidon was one of the few buildings dedicated to the Gods in Athenia that was built in the lower levels of the city. Not only was it, in fact, outside of the Inner Circle, but it was on the very lowest circle of the capitol, down to the north of the docks and main harbour. This was not, however, created as a sign of disrespect to the God of the Sea, but an effort to show additional worship to his greatness, instead.
Arranged as a circular building on the very edit of the Athenian land, the structure was simply a dais with a shallow dome roof, its ceiling and floor separated by several dozens of columns. There were no walls and no hindrances to those who entered - only a raised platform in the centre of the circular chamber with a sacrificial block in the prime location to reflect the rays of the rising sun.
The entire structure was made of white marble with beautiful and high detailed sculptures of the creatures and people of the sea wrapped around every column. In the centre, standing over the ceremonial block, was a statue testament to Poseidon himself, a powerful and handsome alabaster impression over fifteen feet tall and holding his trident proudly aloft.
Whether from the waves of the sea, or the polish of the servants cleaning the marble twice daily, the entire temple shone like a beacon both at dawn and at dusk as the sun rose and set on either side, calling the people to worship.
Today, Persephone needed no such call and, instead, came to offer her prayers at midday when the temple was relatively quiet.
Stepping inside, Persephone wore no cloak to be removed but she slipped free from her sandals as moved gracefully up the initial steps inside the temple's sacred space.
In honour of the great God, Persephone wore an elegant gown of the palest blues and shimmering aquamarines, the gauzy, filmy material looking like flotsam over a broken wave. Her jewellery was silver to highlight the elegant blues and she wore only silver hair adornments - no crown or extravagant symbol of her own rank, as useless as it was before a God.
The marble was cold beneath Persephone's feel and the stone slick with the dew and spray from the sea breeze than now lift the tendrils of her hair.
Careful, so as not to slip, Persephone lowered herself to the ground before the sacrificial platform and bent her head and clasped hands in her lap.
With her guards watching from the shoreline only a few steps away, Persephone made her prayers within her mind, seeking blessing, mercy and safe passage for those of her people intending to enter into the tri-annual sailing race scheduled for only a few days away. She internally - as her sister would externally - dedicated the race in his honour and she would have sacrifices made in his name when the race was concluded - as was tradition. For now, she simply offered her own personal prayers and left several pieces of jewellery and a bowl of fruit from the royal gardens as a token.
Wrapping her arms around herself as she knelt and kept her eyes shut, Persephone took a moment to enjoy the sea air, thanking Poseidon for its purifying and refreshing effect.
It was only a week now before the Senate convened to decide the fate of her and her family. Dear Gods, she hoped she was doing the right thing...
The temple of Poseidon was one of the few buildings dedicated to the Gods in Athenia that was built in the lower levels of the city. Not only was it, in fact, outside of the Inner Circle, but it was on the very lowest circle of the capitol, down to the north of the docks and main harbour. This was not, however, created as a sign of disrespect to the God of the Sea, but an effort to show additional worship to his greatness, instead.
Arranged as a circular building on the very edit of the Athenian land, the structure was simply a dais with a shallow dome roof, its ceiling and floor separated by several dozens of columns. There were no walls and no hindrances to those who entered - only a raised platform in the centre of the circular chamber with a sacrificial block in the prime location to reflect the rays of the rising sun.
The entire structure was made of white marble with beautiful and high detailed sculptures of the creatures and people of the sea wrapped around every column. In the centre, standing over the ceremonial block, was a statue testament to Poseidon himself, a powerful and handsome alabaster impression over fifteen feet tall and holding his trident proudly aloft.
Whether from the waves of the sea, or the polish of the servants cleaning the marble twice daily, the entire temple shone like a beacon both at dawn and at dusk as the sun rose and set on either side, calling the people to worship.
Today, Persephone needed no such call and, instead, came to offer her prayers at midday when the temple was relatively quiet.
Stepping inside, Persephone wore no cloak to be removed but she slipped free from her sandals as moved gracefully up the initial steps inside the temple's sacred space.
In honour of the great God, Persephone wore an elegant gown of the palest blues and shimmering aquamarines, the gauzy, filmy material looking like flotsam over a broken wave. Her jewellery was silver to highlight the elegant blues and she wore only silver hair adornments - no crown or extravagant symbol of her own rank, as useless as it was before a God.
The marble was cold beneath Persephone's feel and the stone slick with the dew and spray from the sea breeze than now lift the tendrils of her hair.
Careful, so as not to slip, Persephone lowered herself to the ground before the sacrificial platform and bent her head and clasped hands in her lap.
With her guards watching from the shoreline only a few steps away, Persephone made her prayers within her mind, seeking blessing, mercy and safe passage for those of her people intending to enter into the tri-annual sailing race scheduled for only a few days away. She internally - as her sister would externally - dedicated the race in his honour and she would have sacrifices made in his name when the race was concluded - as was tradition. For now, she simply offered her own personal prayers and left several pieces of jewellery and a bowl of fruit from the royal gardens as a token.
Wrapping her arms around herself as she knelt and kept her eyes shut, Persephone took a moment to enjoy the sea air, thanking Poseidon for its purifying and refreshing effect.
It was only a week now before the Senate convened to decide the fate of her and her family. Dear Gods, she hoped she was doing the right thing...
Persephone did not stand as she heard the sound of footstep behind her. She had grown up in a palace of royal guards and, as such, knew the distinctive sound of the guards’ uniform as it clinked and shifted with each step. Each protector and warrior wore the same outfit to the same standard and it therefore made little difference to the noise the gait or height of the occupier. The suit that defined them as a protector of the royals made a noise that Persephone knew better than her own heartbeat.
So, when the guard stepped into the temple, disturbing her prayers, Persephone waited to finish a particular thought and internal missive to the God of the Sea before looking over her shoulder, her expression inquiring as to the reason for the interruption.
The guard reported curtly and succinctly that there was a man outside who wished to speak with her. Persephone frowned slightly in surprise at such an unannounced or pre-arranged visit but her expression froze in place when her guardsman identified the man as the Xanthos Champion.
So, that was why he had been willing to pass on the message and seek permission for his entrance, despite the lack of notice.
In that moment, however, when she was expected to give an answer, Persephone's mind went blank. She could not think on what she was supposed to say, how she was to act or what the guard might be expecting from her in way of a response. He felt her muscles tense and a heat rising up the back of her spine as if in warning. She felt her heart race and her palms prickle with sweat as her fear responses kicked in.
While it felt like an age, crawling by in her mind as Persephone struggled to come up with a suitable response to the man, it was only a heartbeat of time before a wave crashed on the edge of the temple's outcropping and caused Persephone to look around sharply and blink out into the sea, momentarily distracted. As if the great God Poseidon had helped her clear her mind in that moment, Persephone had control of her faculties again and, very calmly, rose to her feet.
Turning gracefully on the spot and brushing down the skirts of her gown, the fresh blue dancing over the white marble. Straightening her spine and raising her head, Persephone spoke in a tone that she was thankful offered no tremor.
"Show him in." She told the man.
When the guardsman had moved to follow her directive and left the central space of the temple, Persephone moved around the sacrificial block and moved to stand near one of the far pillars, looking out to the Aegean. She tried to take a calmness and strength from its blatant power and grace, unsure how she was expected to handle this situation.
While her body might have adjusted to being on high alert - a flight response she could not control - logically, Persephone felt no fear. Her guards were outside; a simply cry any louder than standard speech would have them upon she and the gladiator within seconds. Not to mention that this was the temple of the great God... surely not even the brutish gladiator would be brave enough to anger the immortals with desecration.
This was all, of course, presupposing that that was what he was even here for. A highly unlikely and thoroughly stupid course of action that she had difficulty believing to be one he would take. Which did pose the question... why was the man here?
Turning to face the entrance of the temple, her hands placed composedly together before her and her eyes and expression like ice - for it was either show no emotion at all, or all of it in such a moment - Persephone cemented her bones to hold herself in place when the large and imposing figure of the Xanthos Champion entered the temple.
His arrogance led to an air of calm as he reclined lazily against a column on the opposite side of the temple and folded his arms as if their last encounter had been nothing but breezy exchanges.
His greeting of two words was hardly one to indicate the purpose behind his presence so Persephone spoke nothing in response...
Readjusting her hands slightly, raising her chin in a dignified manner and simply watching him in a way that demanded to know why her prayers had been interrupted, Persephone waited for further words on his part. He had requested the meeting... she would deign to answer when he gave her something to do so. Her stature firm and her expression guarded, Persephone simply waited...
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Check out their information page here.
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Persephone did not stand as she heard the sound of footstep behind her. She had grown up in a palace of royal guards and, as such, knew the distinctive sound of the guards’ uniform as it clinked and shifted with each step. Each protector and warrior wore the same outfit to the same standard and it therefore made little difference to the noise the gait or height of the occupier. The suit that defined them as a protector of the royals made a noise that Persephone knew better than her own heartbeat.
So, when the guard stepped into the temple, disturbing her prayers, Persephone waited to finish a particular thought and internal missive to the God of the Sea before looking over her shoulder, her expression inquiring as to the reason for the interruption.
The guard reported curtly and succinctly that there was a man outside who wished to speak with her. Persephone frowned slightly in surprise at such an unannounced or pre-arranged visit but her expression froze in place when her guardsman identified the man as the Xanthos Champion.
So, that was why he had been willing to pass on the message and seek permission for his entrance, despite the lack of notice.
In that moment, however, when she was expected to give an answer, Persephone's mind went blank. She could not think on what she was supposed to say, how she was to act or what the guard might be expecting from her in way of a response. He felt her muscles tense and a heat rising up the back of her spine as if in warning. She felt her heart race and her palms prickle with sweat as her fear responses kicked in.
While it felt like an age, crawling by in her mind as Persephone struggled to come up with a suitable response to the man, it was only a heartbeat of time before a wave crashed on the edge of the temple's outcropping and caused Persephone to look around sharply and blink out into the sea, momentarily distracted. As if the great God Poseidon had helped her clear her mind in that moment, Persephone had control of her faculties again and, very calmly, rose to her feet.
Turning gracefully on the spot and brushing down the skirts of her gown, the fresh blue dancing over the white marble. Straightening her spine and raising her head, Persephone spoke in a tone that she was thankful offered no tremor.
"Show him in." She told the man.
When the guardsman had moved to follow her directive and left the central space of the temple, Persephone moved around the sacrificial block and moved to stand near one of the far pillars, looking out to the Aegean. She tried to take a calmness and strength from its blatant power and grace, unsure how she was expected to handle this situation.
While her body might have adjusted to being on high alert - a flight response she could not control - logically, Persephone felt no fear. Her guards were outside; a simply cry any louder than standard speech would have them upon she and the gladiator within seconds. Not to mention that this was the temple of the great God... surely not even the brutish gladiator would be brave enough to anger the immortals with desecration.
This was all, of course, presupposing that that was what he was even here for. A highly unlikely and thoroughly stupid course of action that she had difficulty believing to be one he would take. Which did pose the question... why was the man here?
Turning to face the entrance of the temple, her hands placed composedly together before her and her eyes and expression like ice - for it was either show no emotion at all, or all of it in such a moment - Persephone cemented her bones to hold herself in place when the large and imposing figure of the Xanthos Champion entered the temple.
His arrogance led to an air of calm as he reclined lazily against a column on the opposite side of the temple and folded his arms as if their last encounter had been nothing but breezy exchanges.
His greeting of two words was hardly one to indicate the purpose behind his presence so Persephone spoke nothing in response...
Readjusting her hands slightly, raising her chin in a dignified manner and simply watching him in a way that demanded to know why her prayers had been interrupted, Persephone waited for further words on his part. He had requested the meeting... she would deign to answer when he gave her something to do so. Her stature firm and her expression guarded, Persephone simply waited...
Persephone did not stand as she heard the sound of footstep behind her. She had grown up in a palace of royal guards and, as such, knew the distinctive sound of the guards’ uniform as it clinked and shifted with each step. Each protector and warrior wore the same outfit to the same standard and it therefore made little difference to the noise the gait or height of the occupier. The suit that defined them as a protector of the royals made a noise that Persephone knew better than her own heartbeat.
So, when the guard stepped into the temple, disturbing her prayers, Persephone waited to finish a particular thought and internal missive to the God of the Sea before looking over her shoulder, her expression inquiring as to the reason for the interruption.
The guard reported curtly and succinctly that there was a man outside who wished to speak with her. Persephone frowned slightly in surprise at such an unannounced or pre-arranged visit but her expression froze in place when her guardsman identified the man as the Xanthos Champion.
So, that was why he had been willing to pass on the message and seek permission for his entrance, despite the lack of notice.
In that moment, however, when she was expected to give an answer, Persephone's mind went blank. She could not think on what she was supposed to say, how she was to act or what the guard might be expecting from her in way of a response. He felt her muscles tense and a heat rising up the back of her spine as if in warning. She felt her heart race and her palms prickle with sweat as her fear responses kicked in.
While it felt like an age, crawling by in her mind as Persephone struggled to come up with a suitable response to the man, it was only a heartbeat of time before a wave crashed on the edge of the temple's outcropping and caused Persephone to look around sharply and blink out into the sea, momentarily distracted. As if the great God Poseidon had helped her clear her mind in that moment, Persephone had control of her faculties again and, very calmly, rose to her feet.
Turning gracefully on the spot and brushing down the skirts of her gown, the fresh blue dancing over the white marble. Straightening her spine and raising her head, Persephone spoke in a tone that she was thankful offered no tremor.
"Show him in." She told the man.
When the guardsman had moved to follow her directive and left the central space of the temple, Persephone moved around the sacrificial block and moved to stand near one of the far pillars, looking out to the Aegean. She tried to take a calmness and strength from its blatant power and grace, unsure how she was expected to handle this situation.
While her body might have adjusted to being on high alert - a flight response she could not control - logically, Persephone felt no fear. Her guards were outside; a simply cry any louder than standard speech would have them upon she and the gladiator within seconds. Not to mention that this was the temple of the great God... surely not even the brutish gladiator would be brave enough to anger the immortals with desecration.
This was all, of course, presupposing that that was what he was even here for. A highly unlikely and thoroughly stupid course of action that she had difficulty believing to be one he would take. Which did pose the question... why was the man here?
Turning to face the entrance of the temple, her hands placed composedly together before her and her eyes and expression like ice - for it was either show no emotion at all, or all of it in such a moment - Persephone cemented her bones to hold herself in place when the large and imposing figure of the Xanthos Champion entered the temple.
His arrogance led to an air of calm as he reclined lazily against a column on the opposite side of the temple and folded his arms as if their last encounter had been nothing but breezy exchanges.
His greeting of two words was hardly one to indicate the purpose behind his presence so Persephone spoke nothing in response...
Readjusting her hands slightly, raising her chin in a dignified manner and simply watching him in a way that demanded to know why her prayers had been interrupted, Persephone waited for further words on his part. He had requested the meeting... she would deign to answer when he gave her something to do so. Her stature firm and her expression guarded, Persephone simply waited...
"Your words and actions are in contrast, gladiator."
They were the first words Persephone has spoken since the fighter had entered the temple and dealt out his words. She had watched as he had propped himself up from the column, behaved in a way that indicated awkwardness and then stepped forwards towards her. She had swayed slightly, her shirts shifting this way and that being the only give away in her instantaneous reaction, as she willed herself not to move. She could not help but analyse the distance between them as carefully as an architect would the final piece of a masterpiece, assessing down to the finger width just how close the man was to her person. She could not help the defensive calculations in her head no matter how much her spirit chastised her for the fear. When he had stopped on the other side of the sacrificial block, her breathing had come back to resting and she had been able to hear his words. Words that were of repentance despite everything in his expression and bearing suggesting that such words were painful to rip from his chest. Like they didn't want to be birthed or expressed. The man seemed agitated and on edge... not shameful as someone would be when making an awkward apology. It was harsher than that... And she didn't understand it.
"You speak of forgiveness and apologies and yet you look like you'd rather be doing anything else but standing here." She was thankful that her voice remained calm as it curled around the room and seemed to stop his procession to the door. She didn't bother instructing him that she had not given her permission for him to leave her presence. She had already given up with expecting any form of respect from this man... Even more so since the events the last time they had been in close proximity to one another.
Seeing him again in front of her was making it come back too... from the recesses of the vault in her mind where sleep and logic had tried to lock it away, Persephone felt the brush of his hands in every gesture he now made. She felt the prying apart of her thighs with every shift of his hips with each step. The thoughts were neither pleasant nor tantalising and, instead, only brought a feeling of panic along with them. A feeling of life and events being outside of her control. He had made her lose that. The only time she had ever felt such panic was when her mother died... Which meant to hell with what it was he wanted. He wanted to apologise? He could apologise. But she wasn't going to allow it or accept it unless it meant something...
"You have no deserve to apologise to me." Persephone flung out a hand in a gesture of derision - the first sign of emotion she had given since he had joined her inside the temple. She wrinkled her nose delicately in disgust. "I doubt you even know what it is that you did wrong."
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"Your words and actions are in contrast, gladiator."
They were the first words Persephone has spoken since the fighter had entered the temple and dealt out his words. She had watched as he had propped himself up from the column, behaved in a way that indicated awkwardness and then stepped forwards towards her. She had swayed slightly, her shirts shifting this way and that being the only give away in her instantaneous reaction, as she willed herself not to move. She could not help but analyse the distance between them as carefully as an architect would the final piece of a masterpiece, assessing down to the finger width just how close the man was to her person. She could not help the defensive calculations in her head no matter how much her spirit chastised her for the fear. When he had stopped on the other side of the sacrificial block, her breathing had come back to resting and she had been able to hear his words. Words that were of repentance despite everything in his expression and bearing suggesting that such words were painful to rip from his chest. Like they didn't want to be birthed or expressed. The man seemed agitated and on edge... not shameful as someone would be when making an awkward apology. It was harsher than that... And she didn't understand it.
"You speak of forgiveness and apologies and yet you look like you'd rather be doing anything else but standing here." She was thankful that her voice remained calm as it curled around the room and seemed to stop his procession to the door. She didn't bother instructing him that she had not given her permission for him to leave her presence. She had already given up with expecting any form of respect from this man... Even more so since the events the last time they had been in close proximity to one another.
Seeing him again in front of her was making it come back too... from the recesses of the vault in her mind where sleep and logic had tried to lock it away, Persephone felt the brush of his hands in every gesture he now made. She felt the prying apart of her thighs with every shift of his hips with each step. The thoughts were neither pleasant nor tantalising and, instead, only brought a feeling of panic along with them. A feeling of life and events being outside of her control. He had made her lose that. The only time she had ever felt such panic was when her mother died... Which meant to hell with what it was he wanted. He wanted to apologise? He could apologise. But she wasn't going to allow it or accept it unless it meant something...
"You have no deserve to apologise to me." Persephone flung out a hand in a gesture of derision - the first sign of emotion she had given since he had joined her inside the temple. She wrinkled her nose delicately in disgust. "I doubt you even know what it is that you did wrong."
"Your words and actions are in contrast, gladiator."
They were the first words Persephone has spoken since the fighter had entered the temple and dealt out his words. She had watched as he had propped himself up from the column, behaved in a way that indicated awkwardness and then stepped forwards towards her. She had swayed slightly, her shirts shifting this way and that being the only give away in her instantaneous reaction, as she willed herself not to move. She could not help but analyse the distance between them as carefully as an architect would the final piece of a masterpiece, assessing down to the finger width just how close the man was to her person. She could not help the defensive calculations in her head no matter how much her spirit chastised her for the fear. When he had stopped on the other side of the sacrificial block, her breathing had come back to resting and she had been able to hear his words. Words that were of repentance despite everything in his expression and bearing suggesting that such words were painful to rip from his chest. Like they didn't want to be birthed or expressed. The man seemed agitated and on edge... not shameful as someone would be when making an awkward apology. It was harsher than that... And she didn't understand it.
"You speak of forgiveness and apologies and yet you look like you'd rather be doing anything else but standing here." She was thankful that her voice remained calm as it curled around the room and seemed to stop his procession to the door. She didn't bother instructing him that she had not given her permission for him to leave her presence. She had already given up with expecting any form of respect from this man... Even more so since the events the last time they had been in close proximity to one another.
Seeing him again in front of her was making it come back too... from the recesses of the vault in her mind where sleep and logic had tried to lock it away, Persephone felt the brush of his hands in every gesture he now made. She felt the prying apart of her thighs with every shift of his hips with each step. The thoughts were neither pleasant nor tantalising and, instead, only brought a feeling of panic along with them. A feeling of life and events being outside of her control. He had made her lose that. The only time she had ever felt such panic was when her mother died... Which meant to hell with what it was he wanted. He wanted to apologise? He could apologise. But she wasn't going to allow it or accept it unless it meant something...
"You have no deserve to apologise to me." Persephone flung out a hand in a gesture of derision - the first sign of emotion she had given since he had joined her inside the temple. She wrinkled her nose delicately in disgust. "I doubt you even know what it is that you did wrong."
It was the most she had ever heard in say in one sitting. A man that was usually a giant of stone and stoicism now babbled uncontrollably. Like he wanted to express something but didn't know how. He just seemed to repeat that he had been wrong and that he didn't want to be there admitting it. It wasn't exactly an answer to the accusations Persephone had thrown at his feet. It was just more of the same. But it did at least show some form of effort on his part. Naturally a giver and a leader and helper by nature, Persephone's conscience prickled at her reminding her of that tidbit. He did at least appear to be trying. Whether his efforts were of any use or not was another matter entirely. He still seemed to be oblivious to what it was he had done to her. Not in the physical... but in the emotional. The lack of value he had placed on her by treating her like she was simply a body he could handle.
As he spoke, her expression changed very little - the flutter of an eyelid when he mentioned her flinching - she had hoped she had hidden it better - the slight narrowing of her eyes when he mentioned her being dressed in a way that had encouraged him - a statement he quickly took back but clearly a thought that had lingered in his mind. Part of her was so offended by the very notion that she felt sick, another part felt awkward that the visage of her in the gold dress she had later burnt seemed not to have left him. Her mouth twisted at the thought.
When he made to take a step closer, Persephone was better at remaining still. After his comment on her reaction to his proximity, she was determined not to repeat the action, until he took a step too close and she hastened backwards two small steps. He was already in the middle of his encroachment however and, as her retreat detached her hands from one another and lifted them for her own balance, the gladiator latched hold of one, her soft touch against the roughness of his.
Frozen solid, she was unable to react until he placed a kiss to her knuckles and called her by her name. She had heard it from him once already during this conversation but it had been lost in his diatribe. This time she spiked.
It didn't matter that he may have been trying to apologise to the woman instead of the princess. It didn't matter that he normally spat her title in a tone of derision. What mattered was he was seeing her as a woman and not a royal. Him seeing her as a female body and little else was exactly what had caused this whole ordeal.
Snatching her hand from his with more violence than grace and taking too more hurried steps backwards, Persephone felt a column come up to meet her back and immediately took another step sideways, unwilling to feel cornered.
"Do not address me as such." She told the man with more venom than she had ever addressed him with before. "I am not yours to name. I have few possessions to call solely my own but my chastity and my name are two of them. You do not have the right to either."
Her glare was a dichotomy of strong confidence and hesitant trepidation but it did not show fear.
"I do not despise you." Was the next thing she latched on to as silence seemed to stretch. She was determined to at least correct one of the misconceptions he seemed to have regarding her. The fact that she was a snotty princess would have to wait; it would take far too long to dislodge such an imbrued idea. The fact that she despised him was something she could correct right now. "I do not, nor have I ever believed you to be evil or lacking in honour which means your actions were one of someone who is ignorant."
Persephone gave no hand gestures or body language as she spoke, remaining strong in stature and still in performance. Her words were cutting enough without physicality to hammer home her points.
"Your behaviour stole from me. It stole my right of choice and my right to your respect." She frowned at Androkles her gaze turning questioning. "You seem to have no understanding of human compassion and connection. That is why you did what you did and that is why you know not why you should be apologising now. You know what you did to be dishonourable yet you cannot define in what way you truly wounded me. Which means you cannot repent for it."
Calming her voice and her emotions, Persephone stood with her hands folded before her again, one thumb rubbing where he had touched her knuckles.
"I do not despise you, gladiator. I pity you."
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It was the most she had ever heard in say in one sitting. A man that was usually a giant of stone and stoicism now babbled uncontrollably. Like he wanted to express something but didn't know how. He just seemed to repeat that he had been wrong and that he didn't want to be there admitting it. It wasn't exactly an answer to the accusations Persephone had thrown at his feet. It was just more of the same. But it did at least show some form of effort on his part. Naturally a giver and a leader and helper by nature, Persephone's conscience prickled at her reminding her of that tidbit. He did at least appear to be trying. Whether his efforts were of any use or not was another matter entirely. He still seemed to be oblivious to what it was he had done to her. Not in the physical... but in the emotional. The lack of value he had placed on her by treating her like she was simply a body he could handle.
As he spoke, her expression changed very little - the flutter of an eyelid when he mentioned her flinching - she had hoped she had hidden it better - the slight narrowing of her eyes when he mentioned her being dressed in a way that had encouraged him - a statement he quickly took back but clearly a thought that had lingered in his mind. Part of her was so offended by the very notion that she felt sick, another part felt awkward that the visage of her in the gold dress she had later burnt seemed not to have left him. Her mouth twisted at the thought.
When he made to take a step closer, Persephone was better at remaining still. After his comment on her reaction to his proximity, she was determined not to repeat the action, until he took a step too close and she hastened backwards two small steps. He was already in the middle of his encroachment however and, as her retreat detached her hands from one another and lifted them for her own balance, the gladiator latched hold of one, her soft touch against the roughness of his.
Frozen solid, she was unable to react until he placed a kiss to her knuckles and called her by her name. She had heard it from him once already during this conversation but it had been lost in his diatribe. This time she spiked.
It didn't matter that he may have been trying to apologise to the woman instead of the princess. It didn't matter that he normally spat her title in a tone of derision. What mattered was he was seeing her as a woman and not a royal. Him seeing her as a female body and little else was exactly what had caused this whole ordeal.
Snatching her hand from his with more violence than grace and taking too more hurried steps backwards, Persephone felt a column come up to meet her back and immediately took another step sideways, unwilling to feel cornered.
"Do not address me as such." She told the man with more venom than she had ever addressed him with before. "I am not yours to name. I have few possessions to call solely my own but my chastity and my name are two of them. You do not have the right to either."
Her glare was a dichotomy of strong confidence and hesitant trepidation but it did not show fear.
"I do not despise you." Was the next thing she latched on to as silence seemed to stretch. She was determined to at least correct one of the misconceptions he seemed to have regarding her. The fact that she was a snotty princess would have to wait; it would take far too long to dislodge such an imbrued idea. The fact that she despised him was something she could correct right now. "I do not, nor have I ever believed you to be evil or lacking in honour which means your actions were one of someone who is ignorant."
Persephone gave no hand gestures or body language as she spoke, remaining strong in stature and still in performance. Her words were cutting enough without physicality to hammer home her points.
"Your behaviour stole from me. It stole my right of choice and my right to your respect." She frowned at Androkles her gaze turning questioning. "You seem to have no understanding of human compassion and connection. That is why you did what you did and that is why you know not why you should be apologising now. You know what you did to be dishonourable yet you cannot define in what way you truly wounded me. Which means you cannot repent for it."
Calming her voice and her emotions, Persephone stood with her hands folded before her again, one thumb rubbing where he had touched her knuckles.
"I do not despise you, gladiator. I pity you."
It was the most she had ever heard in say in one sitting. A man that was usually a giant of stone and stoicism now babbled uncontrollably. Like he wanted to express something but didn't know how. He just seemed to repeat that he had been wrong and that he didn't want to be there admitting it. It wasn't exactly an answer to the accusations Persephone had thrown at his feet. It was just more of the same. But it did at least show some form of effort on his part. Naturally a giver and a leader and helper by nature, Persephone's conscience prickled at her reminding her of that tidbit. He did at least appear to be trying. Whether his efforts were of any use or not was another matter entirely. He still seemed to be oblivious to what it was he had done to her. Not in the physical... but in the emotional. The lack of value he had placed on her by treating her like she was simply a body he could handle.
As he spoke, her expression changed very little - the flutter of an eyelid when he mentioned her flinching - she had hoped she had hidden it better - the slight narrowing of her eyes when he mentioned her being dressed in a way that had encouraged him - a statement he quickly took back but clearly a thought that had lingered in his mind. Part of her was so offended by the very notion that she felt sick, another part felt awkward that the visage of her in the gold dress she had later burnt seemed not to have left him. Her mouth twisted at the thought.
When he made to take a step closer, Persephone was better at remaining still. After his comment on her reaction to his proximity, she was determined not to repeat the action, until he took a step too close and she hastened backwards two small steps. He was already in the middle of his encroachment however and, as her retreat detached her hands from one another and lifted them for her own balance, the gladiator latched hold of one, her soft touch against the roughness of his.
Frozen solid, she was unable to react until he placed a kiss to her knuckles and called her by her name. She had heard it from him once already during this conversation but it had been lost in his diatribe. This time she spiked.
It didn't matter that he may have been trying to apologise to the woman instead of the princess. It didn't matter that he normally spat her title in a tone of derision. What mattered was he was seeing her as a woman and not a royal. Him seeing her as a female body and little else was exactly what had caused this whole ordeal.
Snatching her hand from his with more violence than grace and taking too more hurried steps backwards, Persephone felt a column come up to meet her back and immediately took another step sideways, unwilling to feel cornered.
"Do not address me as such." She told the man with more venom than she had ever addressed him with before. "I am not yours to name. I have few possessions to call solely my own but my chastity and my name are two of them. You do not have the right to either."
Her glare was a dichotomy of strong confidence and hesitant trepidation but it did not show fear.
"I do not despise you." Was the next thing she latched on to as silence seemed to stretch. She was determined to at least correct one of the misconceptions he seemed to have regarding her. The fact that she was a snotty princess would have to wait; it would take far too long to dislodge such an imbrued idea. The fact that she despised him was something she could correct right now. "I do not, nor have I ever believed you to be evil or lacking in honour which means your actions were one of someone who is ignorant."
Persephone gave no hand gestures or body language as she spoke, remaining strong in stature and still in performance. Her words were cutting enough without physicality to hammer home her points.
"Your behaviour stole from me. It stole my right of choice and my right to your respect." She frowned at Androkles her gaze turning questioning. "You seem to have no understanding of human compassion and connection. That is why you did what you did and that is why you know not why you should be apologising now. You know what you did to be dishonourable yet you cannot define in what way you truly wounded me. Which means you cannot repent for it."
Calming her voice and her emotions, Persephone stood with her hands folded before her again, one thumb rubbing where he had touched her knuckles.
"I do not despise you, gladiator. I pity you."
Persephone addressed none of his words. He was lashing out. Claiming she thought him stupid when she had never said such a thing. She understood it. By villainising her words as inaccurate or simple insult his mind was able to push away the things she had said. Words that she didn't feel proud for saying but which she did consider herself vindicated in their accuracy. While she suspected she would regret her tone and her personal attack in a few days’ time, Persephone could not help but feel a natural desire to lash out at him, despite her claims to not being angry being entirely truthful. It was a difficult juxtaposition of emotions that her head was unable to make sense of there and in that moment.
Stepping back as the gladiator made his way around the sacrificial block and headed back towards the door, Persephone shook her head slightly and her next exhale came out heavier than its brother before it. Her tone and behaviour indicated a feeling of derision, or lack of surprise...
For that was what his retreat awakened within her.
Surprisingly, Persephone was starting to feel stronger in his presence... as if the floor of the temple were tilting and swaying with the sea. When he had first approached and entered the scared space, he had been at its peak. Higher than herself in power and in strength. She had backed away and cowered for she had felt fear. She had felt small in his presence.
Now, with the site of his retreating shoulders suddenly - she realised - a regular view in her life, Persephone felt the temple move and her own side of the dais rise up, towering over the warrior.
His physical prowess aside, this was no man to be feared.
"You're a coward..."
The words came out without permission from her mind but Persephone had had enough courtly training to never let on when the words you spoke were not of your intended making. His back was to her besides, so there was no chance of him realising she had simply spoken her thoughts aloud instead of deciding upon them.
For they were her thoughts. And she was beginning to sorely believe them.
The gladiator might have been strong, agile, fast and powerful in ways that her female frame could neither match nor master. But in all the ways that mattered - empathy, consideration, self-reflection and personal value, she was the superior...
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Persephone addressed none of his words. He was lashing out. Claiming she thought him stupid when she had never said such a thing. She understood it. By villainising her words as inaccurate or simple insult his mind was able to push away the things she had said. Words that she didn't feel proud for saying but which she did consider herself vindicated in their accuracy. While she suspected she would regret her tone and her personal attack in a few days’ time, Persephone could not help but feel a natural desire to lash out at him, despite her claims to not being angry being entirely truthful. It was a difficult juxtaposition of emotions that her head was unable to make sense of there and in that moment.
Stepping back as the gladiator made his way around the sacrificial block and headed back towards the door, Persephone shook her head slightly and her next exhale came out heavier than its brother before it. Her tone and behaviour indicated a feeling of derision, or lack of surprise...
For that was what his retreat awakened within her.
Surprisingly, Persephone was starting to feel stronger in his presence... as if the floor of the temple were tilting and swaying with the sea. When he had first approached and entered the scared space, he had been at its peak. Higher than herself in power and in strength. She had backed away and cowered for she had felt fear. She had felt small in his presence.
Now, with the site of his retreating shoulders suddenly - she realised - a regular view in her life, Persephone felt the temple move and her own side of the dais rise up, towering over the warrior.
His physical prowess aside, this was no man to be feared.
"You're a coward..."
The words came out without permission from her mind but Persephone had had enough courtly training to never let on when the words you spoke were not of your intended making. His back was to her besides, so there was no chance of him realising she had simply spoken her thoughts aloud instead of deciding upon them.
For they were her thoughts. And she was beginning to sorely believe them.
The gladiator might have been strong, agile, fast and powerful in ways that her female frame could neither match nor master. But in all the ways that mattered - empathy, consideration, self-reflection and personal value, she was the superior...
Persephone addressed none of his words. He was lashing out. Claiming she thought him stupid when she had never said such a thing. She understood it. By villainising her words as inaccurate or simple insult his mind was able to push away the things she had said. Words that she didn't feel proud for saying but which she did consider herself vindicated in their accuracy. While she suspected she would regret her tone and her personal attack in a few days’ time, Persephone could not help but feel a natural desire to lash out at him, despite her claims to not being angry being entirely truthful. It was a difficult juxtaposition of emotions that her head was unable to make sense of there and in that moment.
Stepping back as the gladiator made his way around the sacrificial block and headed back towards the door, Persephone shook her head slightly and her next exhale came out heavier than its brother before it. Her tone and behaviour indicated a feeling of derision, or lack of surprise...
For that was what his retreat awakened within her.
Surprisingly, Persephone was starting to feel stronger in his presence... as if the floor of the temple were tilting and swaying with the sea. When he had first approached and entered the scared space, he had been at its peak. Higher than herself in power and in strength. She had backed away and cowered for she had felt fear. She had felt small in his presence.
Now, with the site of his retreating shoulders suddenly - she realised - a regular view in her life, Persephone felt the temple move and her own side of the dais rise up, towering over the warrior.
His physical prowess aside, this was no man to be feared.
"You're a coward..."
The words came out without permission from her mind but Persephone had had enough courtly training to never let on when the words you spoke were not of your intended making. His back was to her besides, so there was no chance of him realising she had simply spoken her thoughts aloud instead of deciding upon them.
For they were her thoughts. And she was beginning to sorely believe them.
The gladiator might have been strong, agile, fast and powerful in ways that her female frame could neither match nor master. But in all the ways that mattered - empathy, consideration, self-reflection and personal value, she was the superior...
Persephone just watched as the man ranted, her posture strong, her gaze unblinking and her hands now behind her back where he wouldn't be able to see the tips of her fingers shake in sudden fright as he became angry. Regardless of what she thought of him as a person and his mental weaknesses she had not forgotten his physical strength over hers. But she also reminded herself silently that her guards were only just outside. She was physically safe. Which means she could say what she wanted... Especially given as he had the exact same intention. She only spoke when he had finally simmered down.
"A hypocrite as well as a coward, I see." She simply told him as he finally stopped to draw breath. "Insisting I know nothing of your life and yet you know everything of mine." Her tone was one of mild curiosity and lightness - no insult or accusation in her timbre or intention. She spoke as if she were discussing the pretty view or the pleasant weather...
"Living through danger and strife makes you durable." She then concluded to him. "Not brave." She had never intended to mean that he hadn't been able to survive whatever his life had thrown his way - and there was a lot that it had. For while he seemed to think she knew nothing of his past, her investigations into him prior to making him the offer of Xanthos Champion had been thorough - at least in the basic facts. She knew of his history as a slave, his arrest a pirate, and his life as a gladiator. She knew that she could not empathise or understand the inner workings of his emotions with each of those turns life had taken for him... Nor did she profess to.
But her mother had always taught her that true courage was not doing what you were made to do. It was choosing to do something that was frightening that you did not have to do. Such as being open minded to the flaws of your own personality. Or considering that you might be wrong in terms of judgement or world view. Everything that Androkles was failing to do in this moment. That was why he was ignorant. That was why he was cowardly.
Suddenly, Persephone smiled.
It was not twisted or cruel, it was not an expression designed to taunt. It was a friendly and polite smile that she used all the time in court when handling a situation that she found to be personally difficult.
"Thank you for your apology, gladiator." She told the man. "Regardless of its validity, your desire to make one is appreciated." She then, taking an internal deep breath as she did something that she feared to do... Persephone turned her back on the man and turned to look out between the two nearest columns and out to the sea. "You may leave now."
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Persephone just watched as the man ranted, her posture strong, her gaze unblinking and her hands now behind her back where he wouldn't be able to see the tips of her fingers shake in sudden fright as he became angry. Regardless of what she thought of him as a person and his mental weaknesses she had not forgotten his physical strength over hers. But she also reminded herself silently that her guards were only just outside. She was physically safe. Which means she could say what she wanted... Especially given as he had the exact same intention. She only spoke when he had finally simmered down.
"A hypocrite as well as a coward, I see." She simply told him as he finally stopped to draw breath. "Insisting I know nothing of your life and yet you know everything of mine." Her tone was one of mild curiosity and lightness - no insult or accusation in her timbre or intention. She spoke as if she were discussing the pretty view or the pleasant weather...
"Living through danger and strife makes you durable." She then concluded to him. "Not brave." She had never intended to mean that he hadn't been able to survive whatever his life had thrown his way - and there was a lot that it had. For while he seemed to think she knew nothing of his past, her investigations into him prior to making him the offer of Xanthos Champion had been thorough - at least in the basic facts. She knew of his history as a slave, his arrest a pirate, and his life as a gladiator. She knew that she could not empathise or understand the inner workings of his emotions with each of those turns life had taken for him... Nor did she profess to.
But her mother had always taught her that true courage was not doing what you were made to do. It was choosing to do something that was frightening that you did not have to do. Such as being open minded to the flaws of your own personality. Or considering that you might be wrong in terms of judgement or world view. Everything that Androkles was failing to do in this moment. That was why he was ignorant. That was why he was cowardly.
Suddenly, Persephone smiled.
It was not twisted or cruel, it was not an expression designed to taunt. It was a friendly and polite smile that she used all the time in court when handling a situation that she found to be personally difficult.
"Thank you for your apology, gladiator." She told the man. "Regardless of its validity, your desire to make one is appreciated." She then, taking an internal deep breath as she did something that she feared to do... Persephone turned her back on the man and turned to look out between the two nearest columns and out to the sea. "You may leave now."
Persephone just watched as the man ranted, her posture strong, her gaze unblinking and her hands now behind her back where he wouldn't be able to see the tips of her fingers shake in sudden fright as he became angry. Regardless of what she thought of him as a person and his mental weaknesses she had not forgotten his physical strength over hers. But she also reminded herself silently that her guards were only just outside. She was physically safe. Which means she could say what she wanted... Especially given as he had the exact same intention. She only spoke when he had finally simmered down.
"A hypocrite as well as a coward, I see." She simply told him as he finally stopped to draw breath. "Insisting I know nothing of your life and yet you know everything of mine." Her tone was one of mild curiosity and lightness - no insult or accusation in her timbre or intention. She spoke as if she were discussing the pretty view or the pleasant weather...
"Living through danger and strife makes you durable." She then concluded to him. "Not brave." She had never intended to mean that he hadn't been able to survive whatever his life had thrown his way - and there was a lot that it had. For while he seemed to think she knew nothing of his past, her investigations into him prior to making him the offer of Xanthos Champion had been thorough - at least in the basic facts. She knew of his history as a slave, his arrest a pirate, and his life as a gladiator. She knew that she could not empathise or understand the inner workings of his emotions with each of those turns life had taken for him... Nor did she profess to.
But her mother had always taught her that true courage was not doing what you were made to do. It was choosing to do something that was frightening that you did not have to do. Such as being open minded to the flaws of your own personality. Or considering that you might be wrong in terms of judgement or world view. Everything that Androkles was failing to do in this moment. That was why he was ignorant. That was why he was cowardly.
Suddenly, Persephone smiled.
It was not twisted or cruel, it was not an expression designed to taunt. It was a friendly and polite smile that she used all the time in court when handling a situation that she found to be personally difficult.
"Thank you for your apology, gladiator." She told the man. "Regardless of its validity, your desire to make one is appreciated." She then, taking an internal deep breath as she did something that she feared to do... Persephone turned her back on the man and turned to look out between the two nearest columns and out to the sea. "You may leave now."
