I Love to Write
[i][c=#BF0000]This story has sucked me in. It's a long tale I've envisioned about how far one will go for freedom and love. But, you'll soon realize it's no typical romance, especially 'cause I hate romances and I don't write them. Enjoy! 😝[/c][/i]
Dim red flames danced through my speckled eye as my sense of awareness returned to me all at once. From the sounds of rattled chains, the pungent smell of smelted bronze and blood, it sent a surge of bile from my stomach. After purging myself of it, a man clad in fur and iron was a welcoming sight to me or so I thought.
A swift kick by a heavy black leather boot buried itself in my stomach. My grunting seems to have satisfied the beast of a man and he tossed me an axe to my left hand. With gravel and venom in his voice, he commanded, "Pick it up! Are your people not comprised of warriors? Sea raiders? There's no honor in turning away from a fight!" He spat his filth on me and waited before landing another kick in the rib.
I smiled and laughed, "And my people are your people, are they not? You're clad in furs and iron, your eyes are made of ice. Oh, and under all of that sweat is golden hair from sun that hides from us."
[b]Kick.[/b]
"Ugggh, will you stop that?!"
His heavy hand of a bear wrapped itself around my neck as he drove me up the concrete wall. He was to hang me by his brute strength as I desperately clawed at him.
"You dare call me a hypocrite! I am not of your blood! I am Roman!"
Through my dying breath I jested and smiled, "Still wearing iron."
Bronze dagger of a wide blade unsheathed itself from his belt glowing a golden haze from the fires around us. Its tip was crafted with care and sharpened to draw my last drop of blood. This is not how I was to die, but at the time, I believed it.
"Frogar! Put her down!"
The man beast hesitated, sheathed his dagger, but dropped me down the jagged wall scraping my back. He turned away. Beads of crimson bubbles stained my rags woven by the delicate fingers of slaves, I assume.
From the shadows a cloaked figure matched the coldness of the man beast. Eye to eye, height to height, yet, he yielded unwillingly leaving us in silence. One wad of spit hit the figure's boot which was swiftly greeted to an axe blade at his throat.
"You will not disrespect me or I'll see to it you die being torn apart by lions like the Christains. Do I make myself clear?" She, the cloaked figure, promised.
He nodded.
The axe fell to her waist and she hurried to my aid. Sharp knuckles landed across my cheek bone.
"Now that we understand each other, criminal, I will prepare you for the show. Make it entertaining and don't die quickly."
Dim red flames danced through my speckled eye as my sense of awareness returned to me all at once. From the sounds of rattled chains, the pungent smell of smelted bronze and blood, it sent a surge of bile from my stomach. After purging myself of it, a man clad in fur and iron was a welcoming sight to me or so I thought.
A swift kick by a heavy black leather boot buried itself in my stomach. My grunting seems to have satisfied the beast of a man and he tossed me an axe to my left hand. With gravel and venom in his voice, he commanded, "Pick it up! Are your people not comprised of warriors? Sea raiders? There's no honor in turning away from a fight!" He spat his filth on me and waited before landing another kick in the rib.
I smiled and laughed, "And my people are your people, are they not? You're clad in furs and iron, your eyes are made of ice. Oh, and under all of that sweat is golden hair from sun that hides from us."
[b]Kick.[/b]
"Ugggh, will you stop that?!"
His heavy hand of a bear wrapped itself around my neck as he drove me up the concrete wall. He was to hang me by his brute strength as I desperately clawed at him.
"You dare call me a hypocrite! I am not of your blood! I am Roman!"
Through my dying breath I jested and smiled, "Still wearing iron."
Bronze dagger of a wide blade unsheathed itself from his belt glowing a golden haze from the fires around us. Its tip was crafted with care and sharpened to draw my last drop of blood. This is not how I was to die, but at the time, I believed it.
"Frogar! Put her down!"
The man beast hesitated, sheathed his dagger, but dropped me down the jagged wall scraping my back. He turned away. Beads of crimson bubbles stained my rags woven by the delicate fingers of slaves, I assume.
From the shadows a cloaked figure matched the coldness of the man beast. Eye to eye, height to height, yet, he yielded unwillingly leaving us in silence. One wad of spit hit the figure's boot which was swiftly greeted to an axe blade at his throat.
"You will not disrespect me or I'll see to it you die being torn apart by lions like the Christains. Do I make myself clear?" She, the cloaked figure, promised.
He nodded.
The axe fell to her waist and she hurried to my aid. Sharp knuckles landed across my cheek bone.
"Now that we understand each other, criminal, I will prepare you for the show. Make it entertaining and don't die quickly."
