<strong><em>~Ryann, moving from the bathhouse to the Mess~</em></strong><br/><br/>So lost in thought of her homeland Ryann didn't even hear the approach of Ammon. His rough baritone startled her enough that her body reacted automatically, whirling around to face the Egyptian, every muscle tensed and ready for action. Her eyes narrowed, her jaw clenched, and even her small hands had begun to work into fists, until his simple words sunk in. A slow blink of bright green eyes before her brain comprehended that this man, this oiled God, had actually deigned to speak to her. She had noted many a time his eyes upon her in that darkly dangerous gaze he had of nigh black hues, glittering obsidian now locked upon her. Her nostrils flared as she attempted to pull herself into a modicum of relaxation, tossing raven locks lightly over her shoulder as she pulled her lithe frame to stand to her full height. How to react? He was but a man looking upon a female in that way they did. She was but meat to him.. yet was that really an issue? She had dealt with many a leer and lewd comment before. Surely, simply because this beautiful predator made her blood boil in a manner she was unaccustomed to, she need not let him be aware..<br/><br/>“ Where I am from, being Royalty has its benefits. Shaving is a luxury I have missed greatly. And..it suits you...I see... I..”<br/><br/>Trailing off, the felt the heat flare across her face, warming her chest, causing lush breasts to ease into a soft rose hue as her breathing quickened. Such a fool she was acting! She was a Warrior, by the Morrigan! Daughter to a King, and acting as a foolish chit! A hand was brought up, smoothing sleek tresses back away from her blushing features, refusing to hide from this man who sent such thoughts racing through her head that it sent her loins to blaze. She made the attempt at a coy grin as she queried..<br/><br/>“ Tell me, where do you stand in ranking here? Am I to meet you upon the sands as well?”<br/><br/>Ryann was prepared to continue with the questioning, if at least to keep Ammon near her, but the ringing bell interrupted her, and she saw the other Gladiators filing out of the bathhouse quickly, she heard the mention of food. With a start she heard her stomach growl, and with a slightly abashed look at Ammon, she moved past him, easing just close enough that he felt the breeze of her luscious body flow against his flesh, perhaps even smelled the natural scent of her skin. Easily enough she was following the rest of the men into the Mess hall, thinking that perhaps the food would be in abundance and of good quality. Surely the Dominus would feed his Gladiators well, if he wished to keep them in top condition to fight? How disappointed she was then when she saw the simple bread and rather unappetizing gruel she was supposed to eat. Scowling slightly, she looked around slowly, not sure on how this was supposed to work. Simply get in line with the rest?<br/><br/>The arrival of Nakia quickly erased her train of thought. Ryann noticed that silence fell quickly, a she lofted a brow at the thought that this small mouse of a woman brought such quick respect from the Gladiators. Obvious a slave of some high ranking, and that was proven as Nakia began her inspection. Still and silent Ryann remained, until Nakia came to her, and touched her hair. Swiftly her ire was up once again, her lips curling into a snarl, prepared to ask how DARE Nakia touch her. But seethingly silent Ryann remained. She was a slave. She must....survive. A quick flit of her gaze was given to her now golden Brother Rioghan, a look to him as if to say<em>See me? I can do this...I WILL live..</em><br/><br/>Soon enough Nakia was finished, and the eating commenced. Steps were begun to get herself back into the line, until she noticed the approach of men, both holding bowls. There was a gleam to their eyes she did not take kindly to, and once again, she slipped without even thinking about it into a defensive position. At first, as hungry as she was, she found her hand reaching for the proffered bowl. She had no clue of the 'special sauce' that had been added. Yet as another of the Gladiators stepped up to Cignetorix, offering him his own bowl only to drop it quickly and threaten the man she was brought in chains with, her quick anger took control. With a sneer at the men before her, she lifted her bowl to her mouth, spat into the gruel, then let the container slip from her fingers to shatter at the feet of the man who had given it to her. Stepping close to him, she would work her face as close to his, growling low in her rich brogue.<br/><br/>“ What, you offer me food, yet not him? Am I not worthy to meet you on the sands? Not worthy for the mark? More the fool you. If he does not eat, neither do I..you will be eating your words soon enough little man, when I cut off your cock and shove it down your throat..”<br/><br/>Every word she spoke was aired with fire and fierceness. She felt every one to be true. These men, these proven warriors, would soon find out what they had in their midst, one way or another.