Test Subject
Another day, dry and hot. A large Roman army is settled into a valley with another day or so march to battle. Two Roman guards stand post six feet apart outside a large tent draped with silver and gold inlays. It looks mid day with the sun at its peak and the camp is rumbling with movement setting up for march ahead. One of the guards stand ready and alert, gripping onto his spear. There was a battle afoot, and he was waiting patiently for the bloodshed. Eagerness in his eyes he looks to his right at the other Roman guardsmen expecting a proud and diligent view. Instead, he twists his face in confusion as he watches the other. Sitting with his back to the tent. He sits picks at a scab from a wound he appears to not remember receiving. His skin is baked from the sun and his mouth is dry and cracked. His disheveled look of lost and woe seeping. He looks up to the proudly standing guard with eyes that show confusion and uncertainty. He looks back down to the peels of burnt skin and digs intently into his scabs and wounds. His feet with blisters from miles of walking, his tanned skin cracked and blistered from the sun. The least he could do was take care of himself for a day or so thought the proud guardsman. He was seeming to fall quicker each passing moment. Quicker into insanity.
"Have you not had enough?" The guardsman looks down at his comrade with hopeful eyes. His dark brown eyes glaring with a bit of concern, with a small cut right above his left eye.