[center][h2][i][sub]Θεόδωρος[/sub][/i][/h2][hr][i]Άλλος σπέρνει και τρυγάει, κι άλλος πίνει και μεθάει.[/i]
[sup]ᴏ ɴ ᴇ   s ᴇ ᴇ ᴅ s   ᴀ ɴ ᴅ   ʜ ᴀ ʀ ᴠ ᴇ s ᴛ s   ᴀ ɴ ᴅ   ᴀ ɴ ᴏ ᴛ ʜ ᴇ ʀ   ᴅ ʀ ɪ ɴ ᴋ s   ᴀ ɴ ᴅ   ɢ ᴇ ᴛ s   ᴅ ʀ ᴜ ɴ ᴋ .[/sup][hr][/center]

[indent]All the procession of business that paraded throughout the Empire was enough to cause some stammer of nerves to arise in Theodoros.  His body was still adjusting to the stability of the land.  His mind had gathered as much lucidity as it could muster while sailing through ports.  It was not so bad as his nerves were telling him it was, but he was not one to ignore his body's commands. At such a moment, his body was telling him not lose his paperwork, and rightfully so, his hands were so tightly clutching his papers.   In his fear of losing a leaf or two, Theodoros had not the gumption to quickly wisp his wrist inside of his outfit's pocket in search of comforting his spirits with his komboskini (a parting gift from his eldest brother). 

With eyes that had darted around the scene, amazed and disenchanted all at the same time by the splendor, Theodoros was uncertain whether he should let his curiosity take hold of him.  He could very well wander around the area and get lost, no less, or he could simply stand in some line and wait hours to receive his earned marks. Both seemed somewhat useful or right in their own senses; often times, that was the hardest part of life: choosing between two equally seeming decisions.

His answer, however, he thought, should have come to him more naturally. This entire ordeal had reminded the young man of the first time he had seen Liturgy held at a Cathedral. With his arms crossed over his chest, much like they are now, the Communion line had continued for what seemed like an eternity.  It was a strangely exasperating process for the farmer at the time, but he had survived.  Thus, Theodoros believed that going across the citadel and being pastured into a line like a sheep should not be so badly taken.  Patience is a virtue, after all.  Plus, punctuation and timing meant more in Byzantium than some cared to notice, as well -- especially with the military.

Theodoros reminded himself of any punishment that might become of him if he were to be tardy in order as a means to force more motivation into himself as he dreadfully imagined prospects of how long the line could possibly be, and in a storm full of doubt, his brain scattered with differing reasons as to why this decision was the best:  Theophany services at the monastery could last well over ten hours, and here, he was trying to maintain some rigid form of spiritual guidance through the army. There was no use for him to complain about the wait time.   It would be much simpler for him to stand in the line; and as the line would indeed be slower paced, his paperwork could rest while his fingers traced the knots of his prayer rope.  His body may have wanted to wander, but Theodoros was determined to have himself disciplined. [/indent]