Altar of Twilight we control nassau

[table width=85%][tr][td]

He is careful but he is alert. He seeks no trouble. There is only one thing he wants and he has disguised his cowardice as honor. He has ran away from his love when he is denied her …not by her, but her father; but he could not stay. He is not strong enough to endure the torture of her growing round with another’s seed as it took root, he could not watch her always be out of his grasp. So close but so far away. It is not a Champion’s place to challenge a Dominus, for freed as he may be he will never hold that power. And the high blood does not breed with their slaves. Twice Thrax was denied requests and he was out of ideas and he knew he would only distract Saturnina from her purpose. She was born who she was, and he was born who he was and they could never change that.

A scent yanks the gladiator from his circling thoughts, his head snaps towards the direction of the woman abruptly, marred lip curling back from his teeth only to soothe his hostility as she shrinks in on herself. Not a threat. Her yellow gaze is owlish as it stares at him and he shifts his weight, uncomfortable. Not because she reminds him of his lost love. There is something familiar about her but he cannot place it. They had met once, in a different lifetime when Thrax was a different wolf …but he does not remember. He does not know. The familiarity persists but eludes him of any and all clues so he brushes it off as reminding him of a gladiator he has sparred with, or a diplomatic guest he was forced to entertain in Thracian’s Edge. There had been so many of them that they had all blurred together long ago.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” The gladiator promises her, though he understands if she does not believe. He is a stranger and all he has to offer her is his word. Whatever it is worth.

[/td][/tr][/table]