The Broken
Deius, the Slave
Location: On Board a Golden Company Ship
“Try it one more time!”
Deius struggled to stand back up, but his knees buckled from his exhaustion from the last few hours of training. A darkened frown covered his face as he glared daggers at his adopted brother who only seemed to garner a laugh at the look instead fright that Deius had originally wanted to show case with his gaze. This only served to send more daggers with the gaze as Deius wanted to do nothing more than to just punch his face.
“I’m a bit tired of eating dirt. . . thank you very much.” Deius spat out, his body heaving between words as more air filled his lungs and his blood racing to supply the much needed oxygen throughout his screaming muscles.
His older brother laughed and gently placed both hands on him, slowly picking him up and carrying the tired Mandalorian boy back to their place to rest up and eat supper. Deius wanted to protest but his body had other plans and simply slacked against the older Mandalorian and allowed himself to get carried back home.
Deius looked up, his tired eyes traced the shining smile and bright eyes of his brother, “Hey- um.” Deius stopped short, why can’t I remember his name. . . name. . .of. . . my. . .brother. . . Slowly the peaceful and serene face of his brother blurred, his vision continued to fail as darkness rolled across his eyes. The warmth of his brother’s hands and being so close to his body evaporated and a new cold sensation washed over his back.
“B-b-broth-brother. . .” Deius muttered weakly, his voice sounded hoarser than it ever was, as if he had truly ate dirt.
The warm sun, the training circle and his brother all vanished and all Deius could feel was the hard cold surface of durasteel plates beneath him. He opened his eyes and with a sudden movement his body ached all over and a whimper broke through his clenched teeth. His voice was no better than his dream voice, Nightmare now I guess. . . He slowly picked himself up and sat straight so to keep his back from the cold surface.
His hands gently rubbed his eyes as he slowly cradled his head between both arms and breathed deeply to calm himself. The slave had figured that he wouldn’t be dreaming anymore, but apparently something in him held hope for a better future. Perhaps death can be a better future. Deius thought as his body convulsed from an eruption of coughs that rocked the slave’s body to its core. He figured that either his fever would take him, or one of these days whenever he was taken out again from the holding dens of the Golden Company he would finally meet the end by one of their blades.
My luck will run out eventually.
Deius sighed heavily, ultimately deciding on leaving thoughts of the bleak future for. . well the bleak future. His hands carefully steadied himself and heaved himself to full stature. Even with such minimal nourishment the Slave boy had found himself at the same height of when he first arrived. Of course he still had a few more years of growth all together, so the fact he was at the same height would have brought more concern to his mind if he was not already late for his shift. His illness might have afforded him some leniency but the Slave had not wanted to tire out the excuse anytime soon.
With labored breath and pained steps, Deius found comfort with the pain and slowly managed himself to reach the exit and head towards the lower decks to get back to his work. The other slaves around the Mandalorian boy all offered looks of. . . well of what one would give a dead man walking. The fire that had been within the eyes of Deius long ago expired, so his blank stare responded in kind to the others as he approached his work bench once again.
Deius sat down but before he could even reach his hands out, a pair of strong hands clasped his shoulders and threw him off his chair and across the floor. Two slaves, both humans of the very large sort stood over Deius with annoyance in their eyes. “I would have thought the fever woulda done you in by now,” The bald one spat, his voice hinted with mild amusement.
“Or even the guards finally putting you out of your misery.”
Deius looked away and only stayed on the ground, he had very little strength as it were and to stand up while both of them were looming over him would only serve to drain what remained of his strength to stand back up again. He honestly just absorbed the abuse and hoped they would tire of him long before they sapped whatever strength still remained in him. The two continued to jeer at him, and when each had satisfied themselves with a kick to either of Deius’s side they left him withered on the ground.
The other slaves looked on with small amounts of interest but soon returned back to their assigned tasks, their minds on their own survival and couldn’t afford anymore wasted thoughts on the Mandalorian boy crumpled on the ground. Deius of course could only but focus on himself, his body reminding him that he should perhaps stop hurting it and maybe attempt to a day without near critical bodily failure. With another whimper through gritted teeth, Deius stood himself back up, thankful that he had not attempted such a feat earlier and got back to his bench and slowly began his assigned tasks.
“Deius, you know why I have you spar against me? Even though you can never beat me?” His brother asked.
Deius for the most part pouted, “-Because you like to make me suffer?”
This earned another laugh, “-Well not exactly,” a soft punch landed against his chest but he ignored it and continued to address his little brother, ”It’s because you’ll be fighting in a galaxy where you’ll be faced against something that seems hopeless. . . nothing that you or I can do about it, nothing at all. . .”
Deius looked up at this brother confused, grateful for being carried as he could relax into his brother’s arms. “So we need keep fighting it?”
His brother shook his head, “-We need to instead fight ourselves.” The confused look on Deius prompted the older Mandalorian to continue, “-We need to suffer bravely like how you were in training today, and every swing you through holds meaning, right up to the last moment. . . our lives will hold this meaning literally to the end, even when we face such hopeless situations.”
“I don’t get it, won’t you just hurt yourself even more Viktor? What's the point?” Deius asked his brother.
“Face it with courage,” Viktor told Deius, he continued to hold his brother close as he walked back home. "That's the whole point little brother, face it all with courage. . ."
Location: On Board a Golden Company Ship
“Try it one more time!”
Deius struggled to stand back up, but his knees buckled from his exhaustion from the last few hours of training. A darkened frown covered his face as he glared daggers at his adopted brother who only seemed to garner a laugh at the look instead fright that Deius had originally wanted to show case with his gaze. This only served to send more daggers with the gaze as Deius wanted to do nothing more than to just punch his face.
“I’m a bit tired of eating dirt. . . thank you very much.” Deius spat out, his body heaving between words as more air filled his lungs and his blood racing to supply the much needed oxygen throughout his screaming muscles.
His older brother laughed and gently placed both hands on him, slowly picking him up and carrying the tired Mandalorian boy back to their place to rest up and eat supper. Deius wanted to protest but his body had other plans and simply slacked against the older Mandalorian and allowed himself to get carried back home.
Deius looked up, his tired eyes traced the shining smile and bright eyes of his brother, “Hey- um.” Deius stopped short, why can’t I remember his name. . . name. . .of. . . my. . .brother. . . Slowly the peaceful and serene face of his brother blurred, his vision continued to fail as darkness rolled across his eyes. The warmth of his brother’s hands and being so close to his body evaporated and a new cold sensation washed over his back.
“B-b-broth-brother. . .” Deius muttered weakly, his voice sounded hoarser than it ever was, as if he had truly ate dirt.
The warm sun, the training circle and his brother all vanished and all Deius could feel was the hard cold surface of durasteel plates beneath him. He opened his eyes and with a sudden movement his body ached all over and a whimper broke through his clenched teeth. His voice was no better than his dream voice, Nightmare now I guess. . . He slowly picked himself up and sat straight so to keep his back from the cold surface.
His hands gently rubbed his eyes as he slowly cradled his head between both arms and breathed deeply to calm himself. The slave had figured that he wouldn’t be dreaming anymore, but apparently something in him held hope for a better future. Perhaps death can be a better future. Deius thought as his body convulsed from an eruption of coughs that rocked the slave’s body to its core. He figured that either his fever would take him, or one of these days whenever he was taken out again from the holding dens of the Golden Company he would finally meet the end by one of their blades.
My luck will run out eventually.
Deius sighed heavily, ultimately deciding on leaving thoughts of the bleak future for. . well the bleak future. His hands carefully steadied himself and heaved himself to full stature. Even with such minimal nourishment the Slave boy had found himself at the same height of when he first arrived. Of course he still had a few more years of growth all together, so the fact he was at the same height would have brought more concern to his mind if he was not already late for his shift. His illness might have afforded him some leniency but the Slave had not wanted to tire out the excuse anytime soon.
With labored breath and pained steps, Deius found comfort with the pain and slowly managed himself to reach the exit and head towards the lower decks to get back to his work. The other slaves around the Mandalorian boy all offered looks of. . . well of what one would give a dead man walking. The fire that had been within the eyes of Deius long ago expired, so his blank stare responded in kind to the others as he approached his work bench once again.
Deius sat down but before he could even reach his hands out, a pair of strong hands clasped his shoulders and threw him off his chair and across the floor. Two slaves, both humans of the very large sort stood over Deius with annoyance in their eyes. “I would have thought the fever woulda done you in by now,” The bald one spat, his voice hinted with mild amusement.
“Or even the guards finally putting you out of your misery.”
Deius looked away and only stayed on the ground, he had very little strength as it were and to stand up while both of them were looming over him would only serve to drain what remained of his strength to stand back up again. He honestly just absorbed the abuse and hoped they would tire of him long before they sapped whatever strength still remained in him. The two continued to jeer at him, and when each had satisfied themselves with a kick to either of Deius’s side they left him withered on the ground.
The other slaves looked on with small amounts of interest but soon returned back to their assigned tasks, their minds on their own survival and couldn’t afford anymore wasted thoughts on the Mandalorian boy crumpled on the ground. Deius of course could only but focus on himself, his body reminding him that he should perhaps stop hurting it and maybe attempt to a day without near critical bodily failure. With another whimper through gritted teeth, Deius stood himself back up, thankful that he had not attempted such a feat earlier and got back to his bench and slowly began his assigned tasks.
“Deius, you know why I have you spar against me? Even though you can never beat me?” His brother asked.
Deius for the most part pouted, “-Because you like to make me suffer?”
This earned another laugh, “-Well not exactly,” a soft punch landed against his chest but he ignored it and continued to address his little brother, ”It’s because you’ll be fighting in a galaxy where you’ll be faced against something that seems hopeless. . . nothing that you or I can do about it, nothing at all. . .”
Deius looked up at this brother confused, grateful for being carried as he could relax into his brother’s arms. “So we need keep fighting it?”
His brother shook his head, “-We need to instead fight ourselves.” The confused look on Deius prompted the older Mandalorian to continue, “-We need to suffer bravely like how you were in training today, and every swing you through holds meaning, right up to the last moment. . . our lives will hold this meaning literally to the end, even when we face such hopeless situations.”
“I don’t get it, won’t you just hurt yourself even more Viktor? What's the point?” Deius asked his brother.
“Face it with courage,” Viktor told Deius, he continued to hold his brother close as he walked back home. "That's the whole point little brother, face it all with courage. . ."
