[identity profile] nadriel.livejournal.com
...but if it had, it would have gone something like this.

An outside observer would have seen a group of brightly painted wagons circled in the middle of a great plain. The vegetation is sparse and twisted. This is not a nice place. At a distance surrounding the caravans is an army, with the banner of the 9th. Dressed in Roman armour, they wait in readiness.

Finally, from the soldiers comes a figure. Regal, imperial, this is one who is born to rule, one who is worshipped. His poise is perfect, his carriage without flaw. He strides with absolute confidence towards the caravans.

From the center of those caravans, a second figure emerges. Dressed in gaudy, flamboyant clothing, his insouciant approach reeks of mockery- of the army, of his enemy, of even himself and all that gave birth to him. But beneath that, he too walks witha sense of confidence that radiates from him.

They end up, paces between them, facing each other.

The first speaks:

Who are you who bars Us from Our Throne?

"Me? I'm Jack. Nothing more, but never anything less..."

You are nothing. We will crush you as We have crushed all who opposed us. We are Ancient, nothing will stand in Our way.

The second figure laughs, "Ancient? You arrogant gaje bastard. I am of the Blood. I may hate that which spawned me with almost as much passion as I hate you and what you stand for, but I will never deny the power of my birthright. I have been called a thieving gypsy many times in my existence, and none of them realised either what they were insulting. So come at me, God-King of a long gone day. I am Rom, I will still your voice as it crosses your lips, steal your power as it flows through my veins, and spit on your grave as I steal your very soul."


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February 2013

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