Phoebus

παγκράτιο

-Lang!

Clang!

Crash!

Gasping awake, the loud clang of swords, the thud of arrows landing in the hay targets nearby, Plethicus couldn't find it in him to continue his search for rest. Begrudgingly finding his way to the same arena his father carved a decade ago. In the palaestra a place of hand-to-hand. Yet as always he stood, his sword drawn awaiting an opponent. Yet as per usual, nobody ever came, why would they? Who wields a sword at a place of true machismo.

His stature, irregular for the time, thin and scrawny, a thick layer of muscle nestled around his bones hidden under his sin like a poison hidden away within a king's meal. Holding his defensive position he waits hours upon hours, his routine down to a science. Nearly imperceptible to those engaged in combat and camaraderie. 

Today, the 4th rising of the full moon, as if a constant within his own universe,interrupted by a thick slab of a man, from a glance tall and lanky, but upon entering a stance his body widened and grew, a  Minotaur-like aura exuded from his body. He nestled within the labyrinth that was my father's arena. He approached quickly, his sandals making a loud pat on the smooth dirt.

My hand lurching for his shoulder, who does he think he is?

"Name yourself yo-"

Cut off by the slippery, and lanky yet robust figure within the circle. Quickly maneuvering himself around me, launching me into a full nelson; my chest on the ground. His body on top of me, like hot coals, my back growing damp from his perspiration. I could struggle with my oiled vessel, but with his tight grip around my body. I find myself helpless. Seeing my lack of resistance he releases me from his iron grasp. A grin flies across his face as he sees my body flumping to the ground with a slow slump.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          

His eyes piercing through me, I, the prey to his predator. That shade of unnatural green, the color of Jade, a gem so rare I'd only seen it once, when my father met with an eastern assailant. A merchant who betrayed him, leaving him wounded and unfit for combat. That unforgettable color, seeing it again in the flesh is a magnanimous feeling of reprieve, in a way almost saddening. Yet I find myself filled with rage, the memories of that color only seek to fuel me against this possible foe.

Heat and tensions rising, the sun beaming down on him like a spotlight. His skin, scintillating in Helios' warmth. Skin the color of heated bronze, sweat covering him head to toe. A vein on his forehead bulging with adrenaline. HIs body is well-oiled, yet covered in sand. This isn't his first match today, but why is he here? Nobody ever comes. My face flustered in confusion.

"Flustered? How cute. Be careful where you put your hands lest you find yourself mounted again, I am Ambrose, and you?" Another heart grin flying across his face, to the edges where his beard lay.

"I am Plethicus, you must know you find yourself in a lion's den belonging to I." I retort, I shall not concede to such bravado, I may not be an elite but I am no easy mark.

"I've heard of you, you know. They say you stand here at arms, for hours awaiting an opponent, well I await a challenge and it shall be you at arms, my Plethicus!"

The flutist playing with such vigor, you couldn't help but hear your heart rate skyrocket. Ambrose getting low like an arachnid, he marks a line in the sand. A potent taunt, with a most vigorous trot, I find myself trying to match his height, facing him head on. The air growing still, I am at ease. I am at peace. Eyeing him down, I lunge my body ahead, my faith high. Within just a moment, he takes my legs and knocks me to the ground, nestling himself on top of me. Holding my arms above my head and staring deep into my soul. I truly was caught in his web.

"If you were Athenian, I'd take you as a helot." he steps off of me, sweat dripping from his brow, I lay on my back in complete defeat, my face red and exhausted. A deep breath to refill my lungs, to steel myself before looking into those unnatural eyes once again  

"You have won for now, but do not think our war is over. Far from it!"

Pulling his hair back he saunters off towards the Balneae, I hated seeing him go, but I loved to watch him awk away. A Fleeting feeling of euphoria consumed me momentarily. Taking the moment to pick myself up, droplets of sweat falling around me like my own personal cloud, heavy with condensation preparing for a flood. I found myself trailing like a lost puppy to his locale, the sauna there was a good relief but I fear finding myself in his gaze again. The gaze of a predator makes you feel so small, yet something was invigorating about that feeling, I felt like I needed to chase it.

The night is young, but I will only grow older. Maybe this is a chance given to me by the divine. Have the gods ever been so gracious? To people like me, how often do they give us chances when not bound to some destiny that's unfathomably tied to the world. I'll forge my own destiny or would I fall into the pit that is the destiny chosen for me by The Fates. Maybe that is my destiny to just follow their wills. Maybe that's okay.