In the Buff, Week 2

I was going to wait to schedule this until I had the rest of my research completed. I didn’t want to stop my flow to do what needed to be done. Thus, I used my method of (CAPS) to point out what I need to fill in. With NaNo, pausing for research is a time sink. Yeah, I should have done more before it started but the way I write, I’m never sure what path I’ll take. The polish, of course, comes later. This is about getting the concept on paper.

On this story, it’s a continuation of a flash piece I did titled Death Comes. It centered around Areus, a man made a prisoner of war and forced to fight in the arena. Of course he’s not supposed to survive but he does. Thus the man becomes a slave. Enter another PoV. Corina is from the same lands of Areus and also survived the invasion of the Romans only to become a slave. I’ll slowly build a bridge between these two. The catch? Areus took a vow of silence and does not speak latin, the language of the Romans. It’s a test, really, thought most of the PoV is from Corina’s and I’m not sold on doing any from Areus.

Vibrations carried through the stone and wood structure of the small arena in (TOWN/CITY NAME). Corina gripped the wine jug tighter, flinching when one of the men in the arena claimed another victim in bloody fashion. Anxiety grew for every match she witnessed, remembering her youth when her family was slaughtered in a similar fashion.

But ten years of age, the memory of her mother in the cusp of death and covering up Corina as the soldiers moved through their village. The warmth had ebbed for her mother’s body and the blood had saturated her clothing. Still she remained still among the screams of the dying and the smell of charring flesh. Sometimes during the day next, Corina’s recollection of events hazing in the numbness the sight of her home had wrought, she’d wandered away only to be snatched up by a Roman soldier and sold to the highest bidder at auction.

No more than a slave, her price lay betwixt her legs. Her Domina guarded it well from the leers of the other men who took in the hospitality of the ludus. She found safety at Maea’s side but when the games began, she longed to be sent away.

The next men in the arena were the remains of the latest conquest of a growing Roman empire. Whomever survived would be cultivated into killing machines for the amusement of the citizens of (CITY NAME). The Dominus Oedipus leaned forward, his finger tapping on his lower lip. His house had lost several men and without a full complement of gladiators, invitations to larger events would be slim if at all.

Corina breathed deep determined to live through the final match and the gore to come. The prisoners started with no weapons. The only way to arm themselves was at the death of one of the other gladiators. The (WHATEVER THE GOVERNING BODY IS) wanted the men to perish on the sands for raiding their crops and livestock. Land and animals originally stolen from the condemned men’s villages.

Fear wafted off the group save one man. Corina took a tentative step forward to gain a better look at him. Her blood turned cold when his gaze turned toward the box she stood in. Hate and anger consumed the blue eyes. His body bristled with muscular twitches in his eagerness to fight.