[center][h2][i][sub] Θεόδωρος[/sub][/i][/h2][hr][i]Αἰωνία ἡ μνήμη.[/i]
[sub]ɪ ᴏ ɴ ɪ ᴀ   ᴏ ʀ   ᴍ ᴇ ᴍ ᴏ ʀ ʏ .[/sub][hr][/center]

His eyes were set on Cornet Levitus’ commands, and as always, the Cornet was causing Theodoros to question his own actions.  The closest Theodoros ever got to death was with that of his father. His father’s passing had not affected Theodoros very much. There had been a sadness, but father had lasted longer than expected, having been older in his years when all of his children were born. Both of his brothers had felt a familiar sadness alongside him. His sister had not taken the passing well. She was the fainter hearted of the four Speros children. Despite living as a farm girl, Anekah was born with a staunch feminine charm and touch, unlike their mother.  It was not something deemed efficient many of times with her frailty, but she married well and has since proven to be a dutiful and well-pleasing wife.

Theodoros had experienced other prospects of death aside from that of his beloved father.  However, he could not help but feel a similar callousness towards Danius’ death. It had been a surprise, but the stoicism he was trying to uphold seemed to have not been swept away by the redemption towards a fallen comrade. If anything, he felt an uneasiness towards his lack of regard for his brother.  His mind was pulling on thoughts and tying them into prayers. He counted each prayer like every four steps that Manga made. He was feeling something for the recently reposed, but the feeling was not quite accurate.

He could say that his happiness was based solely on that of the Lord, but even in such a case, there should have been some respect due.  The tears that had poured from Hero as he expressed concern had caused Theodoros to reach from his reigns and towards his saber -- not his prayer rope, still tucked in its usual spot.  Theodoros knew he was being ridiculous, contemplating where his heart lie in the midst of a battle about to ensue.  Quickly, he pegged the animosity of soul on his own fear of death.  [i]It is best to turn it into bravery then foolish doubt,[/i] he inquired within himself.

The bellow of the Cornet tightened the reign of command over the men, and Theodoros was immediately pulled from his selfish delusion.  Without Danius, they were a man short.  All of the likelihood that had stood upon and within Danius had departed this world.  The tragedy of his loss was written and would not be read in vain. In an instance of realization, the struggle broke the barriers of what he was supposed to feel; and the blessings of the gallop allowed the emotions weighing in Theodoros to run freely through the muscles of his horse; and in the moment, where Theodoros lay lowly next to Hero, the fumes of anticipation hung in the greenery.  His mind was still running forwards.  The maze of the battlefield was igniting smells and sounds that were new to Theodoros this time around, and he could not help but believe in his current position that he was making some sort of prostration to the death about to come.