Lis, not understanding how beautiful he really was. His mother was embarrassed of him, and Karina…
The sky is blue, there’s not a cloud, as if they are in the “Upper world”. Two captives are fighting in the arena below. Two blacks. They are just entertainment, meat, and Sigmer looks not at the battle of the “doomed to death”, but at her. At Karina. His Karina. He watches how intensely and concentratedly she watches the actions of her compatriots exposed for fun. As if she herself were fighting down there. She flinches at every attack, at each dangerous moment she moves forward, clutching her fingers in the parapet. He wonders, which one of them she supports. Sigmer is annoyed by it. But she does not notice that he is looking at her carefully. she is all down there, in dust and blood. He wants her to be distracted, to notice him, to look at him. Empty hopes.
A satin red ribbon is tied around her neck, hiding bruises from a completely different “jewelry” – an iron collar. It was removed recently. And there are traces of his teeth there.
And Sigmer catches himself thinking that he wants to do this with her again. Make pain so that she glances, remembers him.
“Gladiators inevitably,” they fight really brilliantly. Neither one nor the other wants to give up. “As for the last time” is ridiculous, because it is so. The battle drags on, two desperate people are already just rolling
in the dust of the arena, violently clinging to each other. “Blacks…” The instinct of self-preservation doesn’t allow them to give up. They are warriors.
“Have mercy on them!” She finally turns to him, with a plea in her eyes and voice. “Send them to hard labor camp, but don’t force one of them to kill the other. They fought honestly, and are equal in strength!”
What is she hoping for? That in the prisoner camp they will wait for release. That “their people” will come to save them. There can be no more stupidity! “Blacks” will never recapture lost positions. And those who were captured are doomed. What's the difference? Die now, or slowly and painfully rot in hard labor.
He signs, and both captives leave the arena alive. In a burst of gratitude, she snuggles up to him, hugging:
“Thanks! Thanks! Thanks!”
He stands, barely holding back such a stupid and inappropriate victorious grin now, with outward indifference accepting her grateful tenderness. And when she easily blows in his ear, dodges with made discontent:
“What a silly habit!”
In response, she smiles ingratiatingly, expecting him to smile too. Now he will tumble her down right here on the balcony, and he doesn’t give a damn that she will be lying rigidly flat on stone slabs. And she will understand how much he really loves her. No.
And he turns around to leave. He gives out some instructions to his advisers, completely ignoring her, while constantly backing and sensing her presence, knowing that she is nearby and obediently following him.
The warriors will be hanged that evening. However, she will not know about it. She is never interested in the further fate of the “pardoned”.
His thoughts rush about in his head like birds in a cage.
She would never have stabbed Arel! Everyone likes Arel! Everyone chooses Arel… And Nikto too … Oh! Just not that!
“Come here. Do this. Maybe you will feel better if you fuck me. Your headache…”
No! Don’t think about it! Don’t think at all!
