(no subject)
Title: Idles of March
Author/Artist: romanitas
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Ancient Rome.
Rating: T.
Summary: On the ides of March, everything Rome had come to know for himself was gone with the death of one man.
--
Rome sits in the second row in the Senate. It has since cleared out, emptied completely, and the silence is compressing. It’s heavy and grim and sends Rome’s mind spiraling in several directions.
On the floor lies Caesar. His once white toga has been dyed red, and his body is still. Outside, he hears the shouts of the crowd, and he wants to be out there with them-angry, sad, ready to riot. But he can’t bring himself to leave yet.
Antony is gone-he hurried the man away quickly, knowing full well his safety was in jeopardy. Fulvia would help him escape. The look on his face when he’d seen what the noblemen had done-it was complete disgust. He had said nothing; the revulsion in his eyes spoke volumes. Rome had felt the same, but his face had only gone utterly blank.
He should leave. Lingering will do nothing. And he knows nothing will happen to the body-the assassins have that much integrity, at the very least. He’d caught Brutus’s eye as the young man left the building; he’d given him a darkened stare, and the noble looked almost apologetic. But not enough-he fled without a word.
He hadn’t been there when it started, and he’d shown up too late to stop it. And now there was nothing but a sense of dread, of confusion. He had no direction. He’d been so sure of himself, so proud and forward. He’d become so widespread and powerful. There wasn’t a soul across the sea that hadn’t heard of the Roman Republic. And now he shrank back, sitting inside the Senate, so unsure of himself. Had so much of himself really been dependent on Caesar?
Standing, he lightly treads towards the ground, stopping short just before the corpse. Rome drops softly to his knees, reaching out and closing the eyes. His hand rests on Caesar’s forehead for a few moments before pulling away. The man may not have been the most affectionate, but he still conferred with Rome in his rule. He was technically a dictator-but he’d brought a kind of peace across the realm. And the people-the people loved him. And in return, Rome loved him, too.
He stands again, taking a good long look around the Senate. He’d been so proud of it once-no monarchy, no king. A Republic. Now it housed a murder.
Adjusting his toga, he heads for the exit. He needed to get out of the building. He was starting to feel nauseous, for several reasons. For too many reasons.
He looks once more to the dead body of his former dictator. How far they’d all fallen.
--
END NOTES
+ IDES OF MARCH. The assassination of Julius Caesar by patricians of the Senate. Do I need to explain this.
+ Caesar was loved by the people, so it stands to reason Rome would be pretty fond of him, too.
+ Comments are lovelyyyyy /sob.
Author/Artist: romanitas
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Ancient Rome.
Rating: T.
Summary: On the ides of March, everything Rome had come to know for himself was gone with the death of one man.
--
Rome sits in the second row in the Senate. It has since cleared out, emptied completely, and the silence is compressing. It’s heavy and grim and sends Rome’s mind spiraling in several directions.
On the floor lies Caesar. His once white toga has been dyed red, and his body is still. Outside, he hears the shouts of the crowd, and he wants to be out there with them-angry, sad, ready to riot. But he can’t bring himself to leave yet.
Antony is gone-he hurried the man away quickly, knowing full well his safety was in jeopardy. Fulvia would help him escape. The look on his face when he’d seen what the noblemen had done-it was complete disgust. He had said nothing; the revulsion in his eyes spoke volumes. Rome had felt the same, but his face had only gone utterly blank.
He should leave. Lingering will do nothing. And he knows nothing will happen to the body-the assassins have that much integrity, at the very least. He’d caught Brutus’s eye as the young man left the building; he’d given him a darkened stare, and the noble looked almost apologetic. But not enough-he fled without a word.
He hadn’t been there when it started, and he’d shown up too late to stop it. And now there was nothing but a sense of dread, of confusion. He had no direction. He’d been so sure of himself, so proud and forward. He’d become so widespread and powerful. There wasn’t a soul across the sea that hadn’t heard of the Roman Republic. And now he shrank back, sitting inside the Senate, so unsure of himself. Had so much of himself really been dependent on Caesar?
Standing, he lightly treads towards the ground, stopping short just before the corpse. Rome drops softly to his knees, reaching out and closing the eyes. His hand rests on Caesar’s forehead for a few moments before pulling away. The man may not have been the most affectionate, but he still conferred with Rome in his rule. He was technically a dictator-but he’d brought a kind of peace across the realm. And the people-the people loved him. And in return, Rome loved him, too.
He stands again, taking a good long look around the Senate. He’d been so proud of it once-no monarchy, no king. A Republic. Now it housed a murder.
Adjusting his toga, he heads for the exit. He needed to get out of the building. He was starting to feel nauseous, for several reasons. For too many reasons.
He looks once more to the dead body of his former dictator. How far they’d all fallen.
--
END NOTES
+ IDES OF MARCH. The assassination of Julius Caesar by patricians of the Senate. Do I need to explain this.
+ Caesar was loved by the people, so it stands to reason Rome would be pretty fond of him, too.
+ Comments are lovelyyyyy /sob.