"His mercy be pruned."
She was already out of the castle. Out of the Monarch's castle. Out of the Monarch's rusty rage. And she could feel that. Not the rage, nor freedom but the sense of peace. She felt good. Really good. She always did. Her sense of pain had been pored evenly and she was a product of whatever she saw or saw. The dark dust of her actions most times foiled her vision, but she had learnt to manage them. She had learnt to make rage of them. And she'd learnt to make confetti of whoever was present when she plied such rotten route. Ah! She was a stray of wit.
That lad should be there. Of course she had told him to meet her at the Monarch's castle. Probably he had never stuck to taunting time. Probably he was a by product of assumptions of lured lateness. She would take everything but those. She looked through the plain before the castle. F
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Glad He Hate All ~Gladiator~ XXX
"Is that all that will prepare me?" Twas already a Cliché, and was beginning to nauseate her. She was really vexed with him. She was already acquainted with how annoying humans could be. How gracefully they can prune doubts and elevate interest. She simply looked over him and at one of the gladiators she'd been espying since the very first day she'd bothered the earth of the fort with her sassy soles. He wasn't like other gladiators. He had thecome-for-me-kinda-lookand would try him out some other time. She had her chances but that was not enough. Business was calling, and that was all that mattered. She made an effort of hewing her words properly. There was no difficulty by the way. She was simply conscious of the best answer which would suit the contention of Ja Lia. He wasn't so stoic as he'd appeared. And
Glad He Hate All ~Gladiator~ XXXI
"How'd you do that?" His visage hewn a sapid smile at that. He was enjoying the effect of the alakazam on her. The effect of it on her reaction. Of course she seemed intruged and swept of her feet. His eyes widened at intervals whenever she gave gaunt gaze. Of course he knew what that meant, but he wouldn't savor. He had learnt to deal with all sorts of things. He had learnt to sort them. He had learnt to make them count. He had learnt to pull the rage and entice his will. He was a clone of himself at that moment. She was looking at the tree. She hadn't quit looking at it. He was sure that she could stand forever there trying to make meaning of what had just happened. The pair of clothes hanging from her shoulders to her waist, shielded her pulpy tits. She seemed to have more than she was supposed to. They were such that, if they had their way they could come
Glad He Hate All ~Gladiator~ XXXII
"Few more! Few few!" As though she was admonishing herself. As though she was wanting herself to believe in the moaning mystery she was going to work. As though things would fall wherever she wanted them to. As though a luck would be tied to time and be canvassed by the biddings of codes unknotted. As though a rage was to be supplanted if she did move forward. As though a spell would catch up with her if she said more than the expected. As though words would come gushing torpedic wields of waves and unbalance her, sucking her breath. As though things would not seem the way they should. As though all these maladies would be supplanted, she halted. Her heart was elevated rather than her eyes. A code was to be smashed and its birth was yet unknown. A tie of rage - a fixed constancy in thriving locks of biddings. What would not be arrived at. A logic pruned by time and savored by will. Things shredded by wank
Glad He Hate All ~Gladiator~ XXXIII
"Atta." His lips rehearsed. Twas to himself. His eyes were wide. His rage was kindled. There was no one to assert it on. He wasn't actually willing to assert it on anyone but of course he would be very glad to do it if the opportunity came tumbling to his way. He would be very glad to snap at it. How heavenly it would be for him to have a grasp on it and tell himself that things would work out differently. Tell himself that he would pass the test of time. That he would last the ordeals and wiles. That he would make pawn of so many a stances. But he knew that he was telling himself a lie. He knew what a lie was and would not hold back its semantic denotations. He needn't to be so worry about so many a things. Of what use was it to him? Of what stance was it to him? Worry is a figment of illusion which makes itself feel as though it's more than what exactly it is. It
Glad He Hate All ~Gladiator~ XXXIV
"Has anyone seen the Nymph?" The gladiator before him shook his head. The same looked at another one standing not far from him. He also shook his head. That went one like a spell till all of them were done shaking their heads. Probably that was a new art. Or simply put, they didn't want to say anything. Like didn't have anything to say. And kept travelling their gazes from the seated master to the rest of them. They probably had somethings in mind against him but wouldn't spill it. Like a gaunt grudge against him. But it didn't matter. They simply couldn't act. What is defected is therefore not worth it. He could say that over and over again. He was done watching his back. He had left the gladiators to make rage of whatever they wanted to do. They could go ahead and ambush him whenever they wanted to. He didn't care whether or not they would have a hold on him. He didn't care whether or not they wou
Glad He Hate All ~Gladiator~ XXV
*How much longer would we have to walk?* He didn't know what to say or ask. His thoughts were of their own accord. They flowed freely with no objection or restriction. And he had no right to stop or mute them. He simply would let them be and doing that wouldn't be too much a task. His legs were beginning to quake. Like the hankering of the hoisted hay. Like the lips of a wrenching cloud. Like the hips of a pregnant woman. He could simply just stop walking. He could really. He felt the hurl urge to, but he decided to ignore it. It's been a voluptuous while since he took that kinda walk. He was used to carriages and carts. He wouldn't had mind if she had asked them to use either of the two. But he had simply followed outta what he would call love or whatever. He was sure that he wasn't in love with her. How could he be? They hadn't been acquainted since like forever. She had been only a stranger in his life. A visitor in his
Glad He Hate All ~Gladiator~ XXVI
[Bìxîa, things do not seem right.] He looked at who was talking. The gladiator seemed serious. He didn't know what for. But he hadn't seen him as that ever. He was tempted to believe that what he was saying was of great consequence. He had no choice but to believe that. He was a pawn of his own feeling. He allowed the pain etched in the forehead of the gladiator to ease. He knew that the fellow had his stances and had quite the number of things to project. He had no idea how and why. He was simply at the verge of spilling his guts. Everyone who has to do that would simply do just that. Their was no exception to it. There had never been. The gladiator was keen. His robe were becoming grey at the tip of his collar. He had no idea when last the gladiator had washed it. And that didn't matter. If he had given them the right to make meaning of their lives, that probably wouldn't had happened. He probably was responsible for wha
Glad He Hate All ~Gladiator~ XXXVII
[Arrrgghhh]He turned firstly on the berth as though he was going to roll off. He steadied his body and decided to have his pupils hid behind the cottage of the eyelids. Hell no he thought. That was not the best option that moment. He wanted to assume the clone of gloom again but he knew quite alright that he stood no chance. He really loved to delve into that substratosphere, but he couldn't just blend. He knuckled under doing the right thing. Or to say, the supposed right thing. He opened his eyes. They were not of their own makes. He could tell the difference. His eyes always weren't like that. He wanted the sleep more than he wanted life. He knew that but wouldn't deceive himself. He knew that achieving that would be a moaning mirage at that moment. Then he ignored. He looked towards the spot his eyes would always travelled to after sleep. He wanted to jump up and squash his doubt, then rustic reality made pawn of his marred memory. Hell forgetf
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