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+--- Thread: PRP triarii (/showthread.php?tid=10386)
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triarii - Seutonius - 2/21/2026
when the sun rose here, seutonius thought, the land would waken in hues of red ochre.
the roman was not oblivious to the changes of this world, but he had sequestered himself for so long that he had not seen any flame. thus he was unprepared for the bluish hint to the eastern skies -- and woefully struck by the odd, compelling tinge to that same fire.
curious.
fully healed, it was time that he hunted and was away, but -- seutonius did not move, discovering an idle thought of Gjalla somewhere at the back of his mind as he waited for the sun to rise, testing his limbs in the steady trot of a warhorse.
the roman was not oblivious to the changes of this world, but he had sequestered himself for so long that he had not seen any flame. thus he was unprepared for the bluish hint to the eastern skies -- and woefully struck by the odd, compelling tinge to that same fire.
curious.
fully healed, it was time that he hunted and was away, but -- seutonius did not move, discovering an idle thought of Gjalla somewhere at the back of his mind as he waited for the sun to rise, testing his limbs in the steady trot of a warhorse.
RE: triarii - Gjalla - 2/24/2026
![[Image: de30rbh-3b0683a6-441b-43e3-821f-97de2c91...kDaKDynxTk]](https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/9de0281f-9de0-407a-a8c3-cff68eced06b/de30rbh-3b0683a6-441b-43e3-821f-97de2c917037.gif?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7InBhdGgiOiIvZi85ZGUwMjgxZi05ZGUwLTQwN2EtYThjMy1jZmY2OGVjZWQwNmIvZGUzMHJiaC0zYjA2ODNhNi00NDFiLTQzZTMtODIxZi05N2RlMmM5MTcwMzcuZ2lmIn1dXSwiYXVkIjpbInVybjpzZXJ2aWNlOmZpbGUuZG93bmxvYWQiXX0.X3AR7ztue9yyAPqjXnKt7hzjl9ocfI1zPkDaKDynxTk)
she had not been sleeping well since the pink fire. it came in fits—short, jagged stretches where her body finally slipped under, only to jolt back up as if something had bitten her spine. sivra would not come to her, and the heat never quite left her. it sat low in her belly and along the insides of her thighs like a hot coal that refused to cool, even in snow.
ahead: a slope down toward an open stretch, split only by rushing water. and there—his outline, broad and prowling. of all the wolves she could've encountered this morning, she had been hopeful it would not be him.
her first instinct now was to turn away, but the feverish twist in her gut had opinions about that, and none of them involved compliance to her mind. her feet betrayed her long before better judgment could catch up. she stops a safe distance off his flank—close enough for conversation, far enough that she couldn’t blame proximity if she did something stupid.
his scent hits the back of her throat and stays there, and she has to clamp down on her jaw to stop the small, traitorous noise trying to crawl free.
you are up early,she mused, flat as she could manage.
RE: triarii - Seutonius - 2/24/2026
it is a changed sort of morning,rejoined suetonius. his ear flicked for her; he was strangely drawn to gaze at her, and soon surrendered to that impulse with a small wan blink of surprise at himself.
telling himself that it was only the odd mien in the atmosphere which had strangely conquered his interests and shifted them in this direction, the campaigner stared off across the water.
a grizzled head surveyed, and still, again, the need to look gjalla's way was great.
in some way, it was as if the roseglow belonged to her, had rooted itself in her hackles, in the hard ripple of her warrior's muscles, in the unchanging regard of her eyes. difficult -- to think. to craft a response.
RE: triarii - Gjalla - 3/5/2026
his attention drifts and returns like a compass needle refusing to settle. it should be irritating. it is irritating. infuriatingly so—it makes the heat under her skin flare like claws raking up her belly. it is a dizzying, dazing feeling.
she draws a slow breath through her nose and immediately regrets it, angling her head away to pretend at studying the far bank. every breath she pulls in tastes wrong—too warm, too full of him and yet not enough.
far from home, too—she adds, practical. a retreat into the only language she trusts.
is your.. dawnbreak not to your liking?
her tongue presses hard to the back of her teeth as she stares out over the water with him, jaw working once. the river rushes loud enough to cover the faint hitch in her breathing, but it does nothing to hide the minuscule twitch in the tip of her tail, the constant shift of her ears back to him. a strange tell.
if you stare any harder,she says without looking at him,
you’ll burn a hole through me, seutonius.
RE: triarii - Seutonius - 3/5/2026
do you not prefer the look of men, gjalla?seutonius asked softly, hearing himself in too much belated time to stop. but their speech thus far had been direct, and he would not change now. it was no secret that women who fought did so to avoid the conventions of a stifling roman marriage. his own wife loathed him, as did their children, and seutonius missed none of them. it was unlikely that he would see them ever again and he felt this suited all parties.
long years with only men for company had caused the man to throw away whatever conventional sense that had existed in him before a half-dozen campaigns. gjalla, in fact, was the first woman with whom suetonius had spent any consistent time for nigh on a decade now.
was that part of it? that, and the damnable light which seemed to aura her face?
her ears were moving in a way he had not seen before.
dawnbreak is not my home. i owe them a hunt. then i will be on my way.
his own tattered lobes twitched.
you are not immune to this -- pink glow, then?a tease. a question. an assessment. a challenge.
RE: triarii - Gjalla - 3/7/2026
her head turns then, slow. for a moment gjalla only looks at him, and there is something distinctly unimpressed in the set of her mouth—as if he has asked a question so foolish it hardly deserves an answer. she indulges him anyhow, begrudgingly:
if i preferred women, it would not be you breathing down my neck.
if a man wishes to flatter,she continues,
perhaps he might try words.the hunger coiling behind her eyes is a thing barely caged. her gaze drifts down him then, a queen's inspection of her favorite soldier. across his shoulders, his chest, the line of his stance where he holds himself steady on the uneven ground. the corner of her mouth threatens a smile, but it is far from innocent and far from kind.
...or his body.burning eyes alone, after all, articulate very little.
she shifts then, a restless roll of her shoulders that sends the long mantle of her fur sliding along her spine. dark brows knit briefly at the fire's mention, but she concedes with a subtle nod. the pink glow of the dawn—or whatever strange fire still stains the sky—took its toll.
the river roars beside them, and for a moment her attention snaps to it like a starving animal to the scent of meat.
nor are you, i take it.the words seem dragged out of her rather than offered.
it sinks its teeth in and refuses to leave. the heat is unbearable.she continues, breath leaving her a fraction heavier. another glance at the water, then back to him, over her shoulder.
come. swim with me.the river would be ice this early in the season, meltwater straight from the hills. exactly what she wants.
unless the great centurion fears a little cold,a taunt to mask the restless hunger crawling through her bones.
it might cool the head.among other things.
RE: triarii - Seutonius - 3/7/2026
gjalla teased, but seutonius followed with a sort of gladness. to be soaked cold and free of any distracting elements would be satisfactory. then he and the warrioress might return to their easier banter, discourse without this sudden new edge to it. still, he was pleased to know that he was not alone in his affliction, and found himself wondering what form it took for gjalla.
had he offended her? the roman did not think so -- she would have left him here at once, had it been so. instead she had appraised him with the frankness of a woman standing in a fishwife market, the coldness of her -- delight? -- striking as it lived in her eyes.
or his body. so, not only did she favor men, she thought of him as he did of her, at least for this moment. seutonius, strategist, tactician, campaigner -- he found himself unsure! of how to conceptualize this thought, and so he simply did not.
what an odd meeting.
beyond her he splashed with high legs, almost feeling a stallion in the motion; he submerged himself at once and rose with hardly a gasp, only a low hiss in the dim light. seutonius turned, glancing now for gjalla.
had he offended her? the roman did not think so -- she would have left him here at once, had it been so. instead she had appraised him with the frankness of a woman standing in a fishwife market, the coldness of her -- delight? -- striking as it lived in her eyes.
or his body. so, not only did she favor men, she thought of him as he did of her, at least for this moment. seutonius, strategist, tactician, campaigner -- he found himself unsure! of how to conceptualize this thought, and so he simply did not.
what an odd meeting.
beyond her he splashed with high legs, almost feeling a stallion in the motion; he submerged himself at once and rose with hardly a gasp, only a low hiss in the dim light. seutonius turned, glancing now for gjalla.
is your head cooled?dry. mischievous.
RE: triarii - Gjalla - 3/15/2026
gjalla does not hesitate once the decision is made. the bank gives way beneath her paws as she descends the last few steps, stones slick with frost and meltwater. the river roars loud enough to swallow thought—loud enough that for a moment, she almost believes the cold will do what prayer and distance had not.
the shock of the water is immediate—ice biting into muscle and bone, a thousand needles driven through overheated flesh. it steals the air from her lungs and drives a harsh breath from her throat as the current surges around her chest. the river runs fast here, fed by snowmelt from the hills, and it claws greedily at her legs as if it might drag her downstream with it.
her mane darkens, slicking against her neck as the current presses against her ribs. for a few long seconds she simply stands there, eyes closed, jaw tight against the sting of cold.
when she opens them again, seutonius is already there—rising from the water like some stubborn relic of a war she has not quite finished fighting. his question reaches her through the rush of water, and gjalla's breath leaves her in a faint cloud as she goes to answer:
no.
the cold has chased the fever from her skin but not from her blood. if anything, the contrast has sharpened it—made her too aware of every movement, every sound, every shift of his body in the water beside her.
the current nudges her sideways until they stand almost shoulder to shoulder, the river tugging insistently at both their legs. droplets slide from the dark fall of her fur as she lifts her head, studying him with the same intensity she once used to read battlefields. this one is far smaller and yet far more dangerous.
her gaze drifts briefly to the line of his shoulders beneath the wet coat, then up again to return to his. something there burns that the water cannot touch.
is yours?
RE: triarii - Seutonius - 3/21/2026
no.seutonius was not ignorant of the way gjalla looked at him. this compulsion in the air, this bite of the pink flame -- it had the stunning impact of removing several years from his age in feeling, so that for a singular moment he was not the jaded, war-stiffened campaigner longing for respite. that for a singular moment he was a younger man, watching with intent the warrior who stood beside him.
in her assessment of danger the fighter found the same, but in its wake there was no deterrence. he did not allow any desire to become clear.
for now, their reflections in the water were not quite melded.
seutonius knew only what women who fought allowed him to comprehend. their wants were not always that of a wife; they were pragmatic and no-nonsense.
the roman and gjalla burned, uncleared from their tribulation. he reined himself tighter and tighter, muzzle dipped for a drink, fleeing the knowing set of her face for a moment of cool sweetness.
water rushed -- seutonius took a deep breath and plunged his head beneath, willing the current to clear his mind. in years long gone, he had responded to every bit of fire in a set of pretty eyes. when had he become careful? a snort, drawing himself out from the gloom and cold.
RE: triarii - Gjalla - 3/26/2026
gjalla watches the river close over his head in a rush of white noise and fractured light, and for a moment there is only the current—pulling and tugging, relentless in its course. when he rises again, something in her has sharpened. it felt as if she had been honed into a fine point, and into him she must sink her teeth.
the man turns from her. to lower his muzzle to drink, to submerge, anything but meet her gaze head-on. a soldier’s discipline. a man tightening the reins on something that would otherwise run wild.
as if that could scrub him clean of it. this. annoyance comes first, hot and immediate.
no,she speaks in time with him, knowing. her voice has changed. roughened. pulled thin at the edges like it’s been dragged up from somewhere deeper than her throat. her eyes linger upon his reflection. there is truth there, in his mirror-image—in the line of his jaw and the rise and fall of his chest, in his avoidance of her own eyes. the tongue might lie, but the body always speaks the truth.
her tongue presses hard against the back of her teeth, a grounding instinct that fails her just as quickly as it comes. the cold has numbed her skin, but beneath it is throbbing, inescapable heat.
hunger, she realizes dimly, has a shape. it is not frantic, nor wild—it is honed and patient, perfectly disciplined until it isn't. a thing that waits until it knows exactly where bite. it looks something akin to the reflection she stares at now.
this time it is not the river that moves her; water parts around her chest as she closes the space he just tried to make. her head tilts just slightly, breathing in his air.
do i frighten you, seutonius?