(Untitled)

[xiii_pullo]

It had been nearly a week since Pullo had seen battle alongside his friend and Brother, and he was still basking in the afterglow. It was like that brief period of time following sex, that perfect contentment; except sex didn't leave him with so many cuts and bruises. Well, not the sex he'd been accustomed to before coming here. If only his sweet

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[worth_killing]

The voice was immediately familiar and made Arthur halt in his stride, stumblel more than step beside Lorica, though he regained himself quickly, nearly as if nothing had happened. No, it could not be. He forced himself to remember the last man who had arrived to share Dagonet's face, his voice, his body. That Roman had been little like his knight. Dagonet would not play a game of not recognizing Arthur. But, it had been so very long since Arthur had been in the company of that knight -- of any of his men -- that even after fifteen years of life, death, battle, blood, sweat, drink shared together, he questioned his own memory.

"Nearly wild," Arthur commented, his tone somewhat choked, but, because off the nature deep quality of his voice, it only came out rough. "I should be lucky if I can get a saddle on him one day. He was born here. An issue of my knight Tristan's mount." If it was Dagonet -- it wasn't, it wasn't -- he would not ignore that name mentioned.

The colt took a few steps closer towards the unfamiliar man, just close enough to touch, ears swiveling forward, large dark eyes watching him. The past few days had made him a touch more skittish than usual, but it was more than likely a passing phase.

[xiii_pullo]

Pullo's hand reached under the colt's muzzle and gave a gentle scratch.

So they did speak the same language. Titus' eyebrows rose in question, "Knight?" he asked.

[worth_killing]

"Knight," Arthur repeated in confirmation. "I was a commander of a contingent of men on another island called Britain, before coming here. They were sworn into service of Rome, so we protected their interests there." The man was more than likely a Roman if he was the same that Arthur had once met on the island, but he doubted that stating such after only exchanging so few words with the man was unwise.

[xiii_pullo]

Huh. So that's what the Brit's called their commanders? Pullo had never heard of it before.

Well here at least was a man who could understand him. "I'm from Rome. Titus Pullo of the 13th Legion, a legion of Caesar's own army," he said proudly.

[worth_killing]

Arthur smiled faintly at the man's introduction, but he restrained himself to only a small smile and it was certainly not a disrespectful one. "You are from a time before me, sir. The name of Caesar is a glorious part of history, not my present."

[xiii_pullo]

Nothing made much sense around this place, so Pullo didn't try to work that out. "Ah," he said. "Who ruled in your time, then?"

[worth_killing]

Arthur took a moment to give the question some thought. News traveled very slowly to the northern island, and rarely did the emperors trouble themselves with British issues until the later years. "Imperator Caesar Procopius Anthemius Augustus," he said. "Though I cannot say I know much or anything about him."