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@empirexsin
The glory of Rome
A highly-selective, multi-muse blog documented by SR, 28 years old, she/her.
Rules. If you wish to interact, tag alias in starters, send in RP prompts, or send me a message to plot - but come with an idea in mind.
Muses can be found here. Still under development as of 17 October 24.
a collection of dialogue from season one of netflix’s dragon age: absolution. to be used as sentence starters. as per usual, feel free to change pronouns or whatever you see fit. mentions / implications of death, murder, violence.
❝ now you know i hate to question your decisions, but— ❞ ❝ just couldn’t stick to the plan, could ya? ❞ ❝ always so sure you know better. ❞ ❝ i don’t care about your apologies. ❞ ❝ please, not here. ❞ ❝ so nice to finally meet you in person. ❞ ❝ next time, aim a little more to the right. ❞ ❝ seems like a good time for a new venture. ❞ ❝ you were magnificent, you know that? ❞ ❝ people like us don’t change the world. ❞ ❝ people pay you more to blow stuff up if it’s for something they believe in. ❞ ❝ we have a very small window of time. ❞ ❝ you’re our only hope of pulling this off. ❞ ❝ will you help us, please? ❞ ❝ i should have told you everything, and for that, i’m sorry. ❞ ❝ i’ve left it at that. i suggest you do the same. ❞ ❝ you can’t be serious. ❞ ❝ i’ve survived things that make the deep roads look like a pleasant stroll. ❞ ❝ i assure you, you’ll lose your nerve long before i will. ❞ ❝ lengthen your stride and shut the fuck up! ❞ ❝ hold. state your business. ❞ ❝ light of the maker shine upon you. ❞ ❝ we won’t be here for long, okay? ❞ ❝ i don’t like the sound of ‘could’. ❞ ❝ ain’t it obvious? we’re the muscle. ❞ ❝ if you’re trying to distract me, it won’t work. ❞ ❝ fair play on that one. ❞ ❝ i don’t like your implication there, friend. ❞ ❝ what happened here? ❞ ❝ i just can’t stay out of trouble. ❞ ❝ you think that did anything except risk our mission? ❞ ❝ do you want to talk about it? ❞ ❝ if you don’t come back, i’ll kill you myself. ❞ ❝ that’s more your problem than mine, ain’t it? ❞ ❝ tevinter is home to the most powerful magic in the world. ❞ ❝ careful, you might offend the chantry. ❞ ❝ spirits, demons, they’re all dangerous. ❞ ❝ i, for one, cannot recall any good coming from something powered by murder. ❞ ❝ maker’s breath, don’t you think that’s worth investigating? ❞ ❝ i am not letting you face one of those things alone. ❞ ❝ many before you have sought to bring back the dead, and failed. ❞ ❝ by name and by nature, mortals are doomed to die. ❞ ❝ nothing goes against nature without consequence. ❞ ❝ just because something hasn’t been done doesn’t mean it can’t be done. ❞ ❝ i won’t risk losing you. ❞ ❝ please don’t make me protect you from yourself. ❞ ❝ one way or another, this will all be over soon. ❞ ❝ i mean, he’s cute, but yikes. ❞ ❝ you think i’m scared of you? ❞ ❝ no one ever saves people like us. ❞ ❝ i have always wanted my own song. ❞ ❝ well, there goes my last vain hope that this was an accident. ❞ ❝ i don’t need your protection. ❞ ❝ it’s pronounced ‘thank you’. ❞ ❝ i’m here to help, for some reason! ❞ ❝ but i just got you back. ❞ ❝ aw, maker’s titties. ❞ ❝ less talk, more run. ❞ ❝ no one’s going to hurt you. you’re with me now. ❞ ❝ i’d prefer not to kill you, but i will. ❞ ❝ blood magic is not the answer. ❞ ❝ now is not the time for great moral stances. ❞ ❝ you can’t tell me this doesn’t feel weird. ❞ ❝ well, of course it doesn’t make sense when you say it like that. ❞ ❝ i have nothing to say to you. ❞ ❝ that isn’t fair and you know it. ❞ ❝ i’ve made mistakes. but they were mine. ❞ ❝ you live because i will it. ❞ ❝ are you really trying to claim the high ground? ❞ ❝ are you really the last one to figure out that you’re the villain? ❞ ❝ hey, look at you, making good choices. ❞ ❝ you’re holding it wrong. ❞ ❝ no one ever saves us. so we save us. ❞ ❝ hey, that is a completely unfair assumption. ❞ ❝ i just need you to say that i’m more important than this. ❞ ❝ holy crap, we’re alive! ❞ ❝ i am, uh, usually not this lucky. ❞ ❝ you don’t have to come. i won’t hold it against you. ❞ ❝ i will have my war. ❞ ❝ and after this, we can go to the hinterlands and make cheese for all i care, so long as we’re together. ❞ ❝ that’s the thing everyone forgets about dragons. they aren’t monsters, or gods. they’re just alive, like us. ❞ ❝ as much as i love hearing about my failings in the eyes of the maker, i thought a walk might be a bit more pleasant. ❞ ❝ i won’t say i’m not scared, ‘cause i am… extremely scared, but i know this is the right thing to do, so i’m definitely gonna help you anyway. ❞
𝐉𝐎𝐀𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐗 𝐀𝐒 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐒
in Gladiator (2000).
JOAQUIN PHOENIX as Commodus in Gladiator (2000) | dir. Ridley Scott
for @his-valyrian
Speak
closed starter for: @empirexsin
based on: “Speak. Your silence vexes me”
...
Marinette tensed, a soft swallow catching in her throat as she pressed her weight against the distant wall, torn between the endless stretch of horizon and intimacy of his request. Since her performance, she had become ensnared in a delicate ebb and flow of sociability and solitude, drifting between moments of openness and retreat. Most of her days now spent either in the company of Tullia or her uncle.
In Tullia's presence, she had become familiar with women who revelled in opulence, their taste for luxury as refined as their positions in society. Each hailed from a family steeped in prestige, bound by marriages as carefully arranged as the threads of their gowns. In their circles, Marinette learned to decipher the subtle, unspoken language of reputation: subtle nods to those who held sway and murmurs of those who sought it. It was here, amid their whispers and laden glances, that she began to understand the art of influence- how it wove its way through the air, cloaked in grace, veiled beneath the softest words.
With her uncle, however, time passed in quieter currents. Her presence often amounted to little more than a shadow at his side, observing his dealings with business partners. His world was one of stark directness and calculated gestures, where power and alliances were stripped of pretense and laid bare.
Yet, no matter whose company she kept, the nature of her relationship with Commodus remained an unspoken subject. If a curious soul dared to ask, Tullia deftly snuffed it with practiced grace, steering the conversation elsewhere with a polite firmness which left no room for further inquiry. Her uncle, though seemingly indifferent, betrayed an awareness in small gestures- how he had quietly stalled any attempts to marry her off, despite it being her father's intention. The few times Commodus was mentioned in conversation, her uncle remained an enigma offering little more than neutral comments. But one moment stood apart, a brief exchange as they rode in a carriage this morning:
"There are many rumors about Caesar." His tone had remained unreadable. "I will neither confirm nor deny them. But let me offer counsel. What you have seen of him within the palace is only a fraction. To broaden your understanding, you must witness him elsewhere. Commodus is known for his war mentality. You will never see a battlefield, but you can experience a proxy- the Colosseum."
The notion of the Colosseum lingered in her mind. She turned it over, again and again, considering both what she knew of the place and how best to approach it. If she asked Tullia or her uncle to accompany her, she was certain they would say yes, but to go without informing Commodus felt...precarious. As far as she could tell, he did not concern himself with the finer details of her life beyond the palace, though she was certain he knew who she kept company.
"Can I go to the Colosseum?" Her voice was a soft, careful attempt to mask traces of her accent. In a way, she knew she was asking for permission, though she had dressed it in the guise of an innocent query. Stepping away from the balcony, she drew her cloak tighter around her, seeking warmth against the chill of the evening air. "I hear there will be an event tomorrow."
in his days, he has orchestrated a careful social circle for marinette. one that consists of her safety, and to hear words about the emperor that do not cease to divide her from him. there are many of those who wish for the emperor to be dethroned, for one reason or another. they say he lacks what his father had. compassion and empathy, the desire to better the welfare of the roman people, and that he cannot see beyond his own desire for blood and power. it is why, often, he incites violence in the coliseum. parading the arena in white armor, as if he has been lowered from the clouds of the gods, himself. as if jupiter has settled him down, each time, to fight wild beasts and gladiators. the roman people appear to love him when he fights. they momentarily forget what actions bestow him as a selfish leader, for they see him, as a powerful fighter. one, that he has encouraged them to call him, hercules. and such a name, they shall call him blindly. the herculean emperor, they shall say.
" i did not think you were designed for the sight of violence " when his eyes catch her line of sight, they are intense. it as if each time he looks upon her, he is diving deep into her soul, as if he may uncover things that shall benefit him, and make her clearer to him, more understanding, less a cloud of fog. it was only two moons ago, the emperor had stood in the colosseum, beneath the roaring sun, while the crowd chanted for their emperor. a spectacle, staged, yet clear in its message of showing the emperor's thirst for dominance. that could never be rehearsed. he had fought against a hungry, ferocious lion, its mane wild and untamed, and its spine had been evident, clear that it was malnourished - thus, to only make it more desperate to bite into flesh. but commodus, is a well versed gladiator, and had struck it down triumphantly, only to raise his arms afterwards to bask in the adoration of the thousands who had chanted his title.
hercules! hercules! hercules!
in the colosseum, he is not merely a soverign, but an unrivaled warrior. each battle, but an event to feed his ego untilt he sun would dip, and his hands would be covered in sand, and blood.
" you hear correctly. i will be fighting " there is a slight taste to the tip of his tongue that is unfamiliar. to inform her of such things, to bring to her attention, more of him outside of the walls of the palace. outside of what small cocoon he has built between them, so that she may only know, and hear so much. " the masses of rome shall come to watch their emperor. it is but a duty to verify that the gods have blessed me with the prowess to be rome's living hercules "
there is a pause. thoughtful. illusive.
" if you come, you may sit in the pulvinar. if you wish to see me, you will see me as i am, not behind crowds that will obstruct your sight "
That's the Problem
closed starter for: @empirexsin
based on: "of course i don't hate you. that's the problem."
...
Marinette's fingers brushed the deep scar etched upon her palm, an indelible mark- neither curse nor blessing, though its true meaning eluded her still. Memories echoed akin to whispers in the shadows: his harsh accusations, desperate wails of her sister, the searing kiss of his blade against her skin...In the quiet of her healing, instinct blossomed, shielding the wound from prying eyes, a silent defense against unsettling rumors. When curiosities arose, she offered the same refrain: I was careless and my hand slipped. And when pressed for whose blade had left its trace, she remained silent, never revealing what had truly transpired. A decision which only served to lull her into further silence, as flashes of her sister's disgust playing before her eyes with every omission. With every instance she further veiled a facet of the Emperor's being.
In time, her wound had woven itself into a prominent scar, and she remained in Rome, ever faithful to her word. Yet where she once believed her presence might ease his turmoil, doubt had crept in- quiet and insidious. It seemed as though her allure had waned, its light dimming as clarity returned to his mind. His hunger for her had been sated, leaving only the dregs of a thirst which no longer consumed him, as if he struggled to rid himself of the excess, a burden after his prior display. Perhaps this was why she dared to ask such a question in the Hall of Faces, her gaze neither fixed upon him nor the carved expressions surrounding them, but drifting like smoke between flickering flames. "Have you grown to hate me?" There were other questions she may have posed, of course, yet in the quiet understanding of him, of hatred and its deep, dark embrace, she felt an odd certainty. For she figured his comfort in such emotions would tear the truth from him, no matter its toll on her.
Of course I don't hate you. That's the problem.
Words of kindness enveloped her in a delicate shroud, yet beneath its warmth, she sensed the weight of lingering uncertainties. And so, she did not draw nearer to him. Instead, she remained still, her expression a placid mask- serene, practiced, carved by lessons long ingrained in her. Had she been a stranger to Rome, the jagged remnants of his singular confession may have surfaced, but instead they sank back into the depths of her mind, cast into the silent hope they might vanish in the void.
"I wrote a letter for you once," She murmured softly, light hues drifting to the ceiling, traces of a sad smile gracing her features, "but I could not bear to share it." Her voice was a fragile whisper, heavy with the weight of unspoken things. "I feared I would be unable to convey myself, even on the page, so I hid it where others would never bother searching." Afterall, was it not her gift to find places others overlooked?
"...Is there a way I may lessen your burden?" The question lingered in the air, soft and tentative, as her gaze sought his- a fleeting moment before they lowered in respectful silence. In these moments she wondered if the late emperors deemed it sacrilege to speak in this place or if, despite the implications, they found some dark amusement in it.
" i think i would have liked to hate you " at least, it would have been a more familiar, and therefore, easier feeling to experience than the one he does. it would feel less like a burden. as if he wanders the palace, and outside the grounds, with boulders chained to his ankles. it feels heaviest on his chest. not a pleasurable feeling, but something filled with doubt and uncertainty. as if it is so tangible, yet fragile, muddled with insecurities and unknowns.
" in the same way, a cat likes to hate a mouse " but, he supposes, in nature it is less of a feeling of hate than it is survival. how each creature in the wild has its purpose. a food chain to be followed, and always relied on. perhaps that is what is missing here. the feeling of familiarity and expectation. that no matter what occurs, the cat shall always hunt the mouse, and if successful, devour it. and, the mouse shall always attempt to flee. there is no changing such things. they are, merely a fact of life. but this - with her - is not fact. while he thinks it is written in the stars, and engraved deeply upon the very essence of his soul by the gods, it is unknown of timeframe, of how it will play out, and what shall occur.
" if i had felt hate, i would plunge a dagger through your neck, just so i may turn it enough to keep your eyes off of mine " it is still a possibility. to stab through the flesh with a blade, much more violent than that wound upon her hand. he would plunge a dagger, gold on its handle, and clean blade - through the very veins of her neck. he would turn her head, with force, by each twist of the blade, until she would not look at him. as if the sight of her eyes, is something that is cruel in its captivation. as though perhaps if she did not have eyes, he would not feel so vexed. but he supposes, he would have to cut her tongue clean from her mouth too. to think that her words, and the melody of her voice, is as equally imprisoning to him.
his eyes glance to the bust of his father in the hall of faces. how still and steady his gaze seems when it is stone. it had been similar in life. marcus aurelius, a man who had yearned for a better rome, one filled with hope, as all emperors seem to carry. but his son, commodus. there is nothing sweeter to him nor more pleasing than power. but even now, there is a momentary lapse of judgement - how he wonders if his father were alive, would he speak any words of wisdom about such predicaments commodus finds himself in. or would he merely encourage commodus to read more books - to find truth in words - another way, of dismissing.
" but it is not the path that has been set for us " a path orchestrated by the gods. designed for them to follow it, unknowingly, despite where it may lead. he is silent, gaze drawn to her. sometimes he does consider, pouncing at her. lunging like some feral, wild animal that may lock its jaw around her head, until her screams stop. life is simpler when death is an exit. but he would miss her. yearn for her. and the spirit does not soothe nor warm the flesh.
" show me the letter "
stop crying and calm down .
To her credit she does wipe at her eyes even as more tears are falling from it. She bites down her tongue to keep herself from shouting that she cannot just stop because he commanded her to. Emotions do not work like that, at least hers do not. Gilrin cannot fathom how his emotions work at all; perhaps by his command. Under other circumstances she would laugh about the notion, at the image it conjures inside her head but not now. Now her chest is still heaving, her eyes are swollen and her cheeks flushed from crying. "I... can't believe she is gone."
Gone from this earth, up in the stars where someone so bright belongs.
The brunette thinks to herself. She twists the handkerchief between her fingers. The news of the death of a dear friend of hers struck her by surprise, not so long ago she exchanged words with her and the desire to meet again. But alas that meeting shall not come to pass until Gilrin joins her in death. Childbirth took her life, though Gilrin presumes the child still lives, she never finished reading the letter after the words of her friend's death registered in her brain.
he has never been a man talented at the skill of comfort. believes feelings can be orchestrated and directed. as though there is strength to disassociate with feelings that will only burden the body until it is weighed down by a sizable feeling, equivalent to that of the earth upon ones shoulders. when he had caught gilrin, sobbing, he had sought to snatch the letter from her hand, to glance over it, before his attention had been directed at her. as though reason were more important than anything else. " it is but the fate bestowed upon her by the gods " as if it had been written in the stars, to be known by no one, but the gods themselves. to not be questioned, for it is merely a fact of life. his green eyes watch her; how swollen her eyes seem and red. how her chest moves with each sob, even when attempting to calm herself.
" you will make yourself sick, should you cry so much " his mind momentarily wanders. considers whether it would be best to ignore such displays of emotion, and to call for a lady in waiting, that may be best suited to the role of comforter, than he. silence remains in the room, except for the sounds of her sniffling. her cries. his hand, decorated in golden rings and jewels, settles upon her shoulder. as if some silent, perhaps, pathetic notion, to provide some act of comfort that is unnatural to him.
𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓 𝐀 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒.
lads if i ever have to type “pin against the wall” ever again in this lifetime, it’ll be too soon, but i really hope you enjoy these!! if you think of more that you would like to be added, let me know! please do NOT add more in the reblogs, it is VERY likely that i can and will be making a second part to this list! now go drink some water and i hope y’all enjoy the memes!
LAST EDITED: 01/06/22
[ KISS ]: sender pins receiver against the wall and kisses them passionately.
[ ANGER ]: sender pins receiver against the wall out of anger.
[ CHALLENGE ]: in a motion designed to challenge the receiver’s authority, sender pins receiver against the wall.
[ TRAINING ]: during a sparring match, sender ends up pinning the receiver against the wall.
[ HEAT ]: while in the middle of a make-out session, sender pushes the receiver up against the wall, unwittingly heating things up even more.
[ SHIELD ]: in order to protect them from physical harm caused by a third party, the sender shoves the receiver against the wall and shields them with their body.
[ COVER ]: while hiding from persecutors, sender pushes the receiver against a wall and uses their body to hide the receiver’s face from view.
[ HIDE ]: while on the run, the sender hastily grabs the receiver and pins them against a wall that’s hidden from public view to avoid being seen.
[ STOP ]: in order to stop the receiver from walking away, the sender guides them back and pushes them against a wall.
[ FIGHT ]: while in a physical fight, sender shoves the receiver against the wall in an effort to gain the upper hand.
[ RESTRAIN ]: sender pushes the receiver back against the wall to stop them from physically fighting the sender.
[ STEADY ]: sender gently catches and guides the emotionally distressed receiver against a wall in order to physically steady them.
[ CLOSER ]: while pinning the receiver against the wall, sender glances down at their lips, suddenly aware of how close they are to one another…
[ THROAT ]: sender pins the receiver to the wall by placing a hand or forearm against their throat.
[ FRONT ]: sender shoves the receiver against the wall so that the receiver’s front is pressed against the wall.
[ WHISPER ]: sender pins the receiver against a wall in order to whisper something into their ear (either a secret or in a manner of seduction).
[ FEAR ]: in order to frighten or intimidate the receiver, the sender shoves them back against a wall, positioning themselves so that the receiver can’t get out.
[ HUSH ]: as a means of getting the receiver to stay quiet, the sender covers their mouth and ends up shoving them into a wall in their urgency.
[ FALL ]: while pinning them against the wall, a brief tussle results in the sender and receiver falling over, with the sender pinning the receiver to the ground.
[ DECEPTION ]: while pinning them against the wall during a public fight, the sender uses the close proximity to secretly reveal that they’re still on the receiver’s side.
[ POWER ]: sender unexpectedly uses their powers to push and pin the receiver against the wall.
emotionally intense prompts.
idk my dudes i started listening to the etern.als theme music and now i have these things. bon appetit!
“ i’d follow you to the ends of the universe, if you asked me to. ”
“ how bad is it this time? ”
“ we’re the only thing standing between this world and its destruction. ”
“ we could stop all of this… with just a thought/flick of my wrist. “
“ fair?! how is any of this fair?! “
“ do you truly believe that anything so little as a rule, or a law, might have stopped me from protecting you? “
“ we have to fight. ”
“ we’re not giving up. ”
“ you. i’ll always and endlessly fight for you. “
“ i can wait a thousand lifetimes for you. “
“ we’ve had a pretty good life. but maybe normalcy is a thing we’re meant to protect, rather than enjoy. ”
“ i don’t know if i can protect you any longer. “
“ we’ve seen what they’re capable of. now we need to retaliate. “
“ if only the world knew what we do for them… ”
“ i’m sick and tired of being the one who has to make the sacrifices! ”
“ haven’t we lost enough? ”
“ i’m tired. beyond tired… i am exhausted from the endless fighting. ”
“ things must be catastrophic if you’re calling me at this hour. ”
“ this is what we’ve been waiting for. ”
“ i’d follow you to the bitter end; as i always have. ”
“ the time has come. ”
“ this is what we’ve been waiting for. ”
“ i thought we had more time. i regret to confess… it appears that i was wrong. ”
“ don’t let them control you, eh? ”
“ you’re better than this. ”
“ everything’s about to change… ”
“ do you truly think so little of me? ”
“ careful… you’ve never had to fight me before. ”
“ we need to leave. ”
“ we’re a good team, you know. “
“ look around you. do you still truly see no reason for us to fight? “
“ we’re family. we don’t turn our backs on each other. “
“ it’s too late! let’s go! ”
“ it wasn’t your fault… ”
“ why are you doing this?! ”
“ i’m sorry… “
“ perhaps i don’t say it enough, but… i’d like you to know that i’m always here, if you ever wanted to talk. ”
“ you/they will always be worth fighting for. ”
“ don’t pretend like you understand. “
“ tell me how i can fix this… ”
“ don’t say it. ”
“ they’re not worth saving. ”
“ i am a god. you… you’re nothing. “
“ well. for whatever it’s worth, it’s been a pleasure fighting alongside you. ”
lee quinzel and arthur fleck.
PROMPTS FOR ORDINARY THINGS THAT FEEL INTIMATE * inspired by this post. these don't have to be romantic - you can specify romantic or not when you send them. in essence, these are simply intimate, affectionate moments to share with someone you love and care about. adjust as necessary, send 'reverse' for the reversal of the prompt
[ lean ] sender rests their head on receiver's shoulder
[ shop ] sender and receiver go to the grocery store together
[ brush ] sender brushes receiver's hair
[ tie ] sender helps receiver with their tie, either by putting it on or adjusting it
[ necklace ] sender helps receiver with the clasp of their necklace from behind
[ zip up ] sender assists receiver with zipping up a piece of clothing
[ unzip ] sender assists receiver with unzipping a piece of clothing
[ shoelaces ] sender bends down to tie receiver's shoelaces
[ swipe ] sender notices a smudge of something on receiver's face and gently wipes it off
[ braid ] sender braids receiver's hair
[ jacket ] sender takes their jacket off and hangs it on receiver's shoulders
[ puddle ] sender hurries to stop receiver from stepping into a puddle
[ drinks ] sender brings receiver a drink from a bar/their kitchen
[ feed ] sender feeds receiver's pet/s for them
[ cook ] sender and receiver cook a meal together
[ feed ] sender allows receiver to try a bite of their dish, holding their fork out for receiver to taste
[ teach ] sender, an expert at something, takes time to teach receiver how it works and how they can get better at it, too
[ readjust ] sender comes up behind receiver and readjusts their stance (maybe holding a gun, holding a golf club, aiming for something, etc.) to help them
[ makeup ] sender fixes receiver's makeup for them
[ bathroom ] sender and receiver go to a public restroom together and have a normal conversation in between the stalls
[ aloud ] sender reads aloud to receiver
[ refill ] sender refills receiver's glass without asking
[ massage ] sender notices receiver looks tense, steps up behind them, and massages their shoulders
[ listen ] sender listens to receiver explain something they're passionate about
[ silence ] sender and receiver comfortably exist in silence together, both of them working or reading or focusing on something different
[ food ] sender brings food over to receiver's house
[ hum ] sender hums along to a song receiver is singing
[ see ] sender sees something that reminds them of receiver and texts them a picture of it
[ admire ] sender stares at receiver across a room, silently admiring and appreciating them from afar
[ win ] sender lets receiver beat them in a game
[ puzzle ] sender helps receiver solve/put together a puzzle
[ carry ] after receiver falls asleep in an inconvenient place, sender carries them to a bed and tucks them in
[ kneel ] sender finds receiver sick in the bathroom ("tossing their cookies"), and kneels beside them, holding their hair back and cleaning their face
[ clean ] sender helps bathe receiver
[ wash ] sender helps receiver wash their hair
[ patch ] sender carefully patches one of receiver's wounds
The Immigrant (2013)
“ are you a liar, marinette? ”
the first words he chooses to speak when addressing her. the silence in the room had been cutting. inevitable as soon as she had begun speaking, telling him tales of success, contrary to the stories that tullia had informed him of only hours ago. stories that had made commodus liken the egyptian to a deer, frightened by the mere sound of birds flocking south. " for i have heard tales of the night and how you danced while valerius whispered enchanting stories to men who would look at you as if you were water in the desert " he already knows such a look. he has seen it many times before. men who seek out women, naive and ignorant to their behaviour. they infantilise these women, considering that they are easily persuaded and led. they look at them as if they have not drank water for days. weeks. and while they may have looked upon the water with some value upon a first sip, they disregard it once their thirst is quenched - they go back to it being nothing special - nothing otherwordly as they had once considered. " and how you stood there, frightened, like a deer caught grazing in a quiet meadow "
" perhaps you are telling me that these stories are lies. but rumours among bored wives " while she does not look at him, his gaze sweeps to her - emerald eyes that are fixated, as though he is a bird of prey, finding a small mouse in a field from high up where he takes flight. " that valerius has been struck of his life, mercilessly, and that the men who sought to touch you whimpered like children when faced with their fate because of lies " only hours ago, once tullia had departed, had he set to gather these men before him as he had sat in his throne. he had savored each word as he condemned valerius not merely to death, stating that he had committed treason, but to a fate far crueler. and while valerius, who had been under the impression that perhaps he would be comended at last by the young emperor for his tricks that had amused so many others, he had soon begun to plea desperately for his life. until those pleas turned to desperate shouts of rage and as they echoed in the hall, it had not been long before his tongue had been cut out, stripping him of any final words or pleas. when he was carried out by guards, dragged away, they had taken him to sever his hands and rob him of his dignity, left mutilated. commodus had wanted him to be broken, a shadow of himself, to die in silent agony when the final jaws of wild beasts in the arena would clench down upon him. a warning of those who might dare oppose him. for when marinette had been humiliated, commodus had taken this as a personally.
" those i keep in my company know it is in their best interests to not lie to their emperor, " he tells her. " and those who lie, do not flee " a reminder that she had been elsewhere. that her presence had been noticed by him as missing. how it always is noticed. " now, you will tell me again of last night. and you will look at me when you address me "
there are no words he could speak that would elude to the nature of his feelings. the very reason he has felt so strongly against such news that has led to the death of several men. if he were capable of words, of the expression of language, then perhaps this situation would have been prevented. for marinette would not be so ignorant to accept valerius' words. she would have deemed them a falsehood, and been amused by the attempt of coercion because she would feel so certain about her knowledge of the emperor - and the meaning of their time together. " it was not " he speaks through gritted teeth. there is a flood of emotion that coarses through him as though there is a wave running through his very veins, and against his bones. he is frustrated, angry, upset with what has been unravelled before them.
" you would believe i would have you as a lupa? to be shared among men as if you were wine? " to be passed from one to another, with each having no thought for her other than what satisfaction she would bring to their lips. but this does not require an answer. her words tell him what truths have been hidden, or ignored. " i never share what is mine "
there is silence while he thinks to himself. his brain is convoluted with a thousand thoughts that are unable to be expressed correctly. to tell her that he has not been clear with his intentions, and that when she is humiliated, he faces the pain too - like a burn mark to the flesh each time. but he does not speak. such words are caught on his tongue, as though he is but a soldier, facing an ocean of blue, unaware of how they will travel the path to other territory, and aware that lives will be lost along the way. if he were to speak, what would her response be? to met with her decision to remain mute. silent. as though such things are not reciprocated. that his fixation upon her has been merely that, and within time, he shall be fixated with another from rome or foreign lands. until his decision to take a wife - if at all.
" your uncle lives nearby " he changes the subject, as though to sit on the subject of meaning is too much weight to deliberate over. " i have heard he is a socialite. you will spend more time with him for there are things that cannot be taught by tutors "
his thoughts are selective when tullia speaks. for no matter what her answer to valerius; actions might have been, he would have still been stubborn enough to instill the idea that he would torture the man until he bled to death. that perhaps he would pluck each of his nails from his fingers and toes himself, and then dismember him until he were barely alive, but capable enough of being conscious to see his last moments as a wild beast approached him, with ravenous rage. hungry for flesh, insatiable at the smell of blood. commodus can rarely recall times that his father, marcus aurelius, would yearn to see a man cry - or beg for his life. his father, taking inspiration from great philospohers before him, and believing that conversation was an art of peace. but commodus is nothing like him, other than that their blood is the same. he would wonder if his mother was anything alike him - but tales of his mother are far and few between. only ever described for her looks - to be told she was beautiful, and her eyes were as though looking into the depths of the sea.
his concern at tullia's words are that to broaden her social circle would be to give her an equal perception to what others think of him. to believe that marinette would return to him, after so many talks with new acquaintances, and discover that she had loathing for the emperor. that she, alike the senate, would believe he should be removed from the throne, and to allow a republic to take place. and so, temporarily, tullia's words disturb him. as though she is purposefully attempting to upset his fragile state. to provoke some agitation in him that he shall not be able to unravel himself from, easily. " i did not ask you to speak freely " his words are swift and firm, quick off his tongue. eyes that stare - as though they will be immovable. as if he, himself, can predict her future and her past, simply by looking into the depths of her soul. and why would he not be capable of such a thing? he is a god, is he not?
but there is brief silence. brief before he speaks once more. " you will be her friend tullia, " a command. as though he can orchestrate each moment of marinette's life to be pleasant - to be safer than it has been. secure. " and such a friendship shall be fruitful to you, as it shall be to her " he does not speak directly of rewards, and the reaping of goods. how he will make it worth tullia's while to maintain such a friendship. and how, it shall be fruitful for marinette to remain ignorant of such orchestrations. how happiness is often in not knowing, rather than wisdom. he does not speak of why he holds such value in marinette. does not speak of his personal fascination of her; how she held a mystique in his imagination, captivated by allure and exoticism. or how maintaining such closeness, he thinks, will benefit rome economically and perhaps, to neutralise rivals. a diplomatic tool to align his influence over egypt, and ensure loyalty.
" an uncle? " she has not mentioned an uncle to commodus in the past. and as such news is new, he can only wonder why. why such things have not escaped her tongue in a flow of conversation. and whether, such a presence is an intentional secret. " we are done here, tullia " his words, an indication of his dismissal of her - of such conversation - many things left upon the clouds of his mind. many things to consider and to feel vexed of.
“ are you a liar, marinette? ”
the first words he chooses to speak when addressing her. the silence in the room had been cutting. inevitable as soon as she had begun speaking, telling him tales of success, contrary to the stories that tullia had informed him of only hours ago. stories that had made commodus liken the egyptian to a deer, frightened by the mere sound of birds flocking south. " for i have heard tales of the night and how you danced while valerius whispered enchanting stories to men who would look at you as if you were water in the desert " he already knows such a look. he has seen it many times before. men who seek out women, naive and ignorant to their behaviour. they infantilise these women, considering that they are easily persuaded and led. they look at them as if they have not drank water for days. weeks. and while they may have looked upon the water with some value upon a first sip, they disregard it once their thirst is quenched - they go back to it being nothing special - nothing otherwordly as they had once considered. " and how you stood there, frightened, like a deer caught grazing in a quiet meadow "
" perhaps you are telling me that these stories are lies. but rumours among bored wives " while she does not look at him, his gaze sweeps to her - emerald eyes that are fixated, as though he is a bird of prey, finding a small mouse in a field from high up where he takes flight. " that valerius has been struck of his life, mercilessly, and that the men who sought to touch you whimpered like children when faced with their fate because of lies " only hours ago, once tullia had departed, had he set to gather these men before him as he had sat in his throne. he had savored each word as he condemned valerius not merely to death, stating that he had committed treason, but to a fate far crueler. and while valerius, who had been under the impression that perhaps he would be comended at last by the young emperor for his tricks that had amused so many others, he had soon begun to plea desperately for his life. until those pleas turned to desperate shouts of rage and as they echoed in the hall, it had not been long before his tongue had been cut out, stripping him of any final words or pleas. when he was carried out by guards, dragged away, they had taken him to sever his hands and rob him of his dignity, left mutilated. commodus had wanted him to be broken, a shadow of himself, to die in silent agony when the final jaws of wild beasts in the arena would clench down upon him. a warning of those who might dare oppose him. for when marinette had been humiliated, commodus had taken this as a personally.
" those i keep in my company know it is in their best interests to not lie to their emperor, " he tells her. " and those who lie, do not flee " a reminder that she had been elsewhere. that her presence had been noticed by him as missing. how it always is noticed. " now, you will tell me again of last night. and you will look at me when you address me "
