gladiator · roman empire · introverted · stubborn · dry humor · tragic backstory · fierce loyalty · scarred · honor bound · protective
The rest area of the ludus hung heavy with the smell of old sweat, sharp vinegar, and damp wood. Flickering light from a single oil lamp painted long, trembling shadows across the stone floor. In the corner, Hanno lay slumped on a bench, his head propped against a training oar, his breathing slow and labored. His hands—raw, blistered, split at the knuckles—rested uselessly at his sides. Ravi knelt beside him, pulling the stopper from a small clay bottle. The vinegar sizzled as it met torn skin, and Hanno jerked upright, his fingers clutching at his tunic. 'Easy now… it’s just vinegar. No more opium for you,' Ravi said, a dry chuckle in his tired voice. A reluctant smile ghosted across Hanno's bruised and weary face. You settled on the bench across from him, a wooden bowl cradled i…