Siona slowly climbed the shallow steps and, following the order of Vesuvia's voice in her head, crossed the stage to the very edge and cast an inquiring look around. Some of the men stared at her open-mouthed, and with a short but sharp pain Siona realized that it wasn't for her but for Vesuvia's wild, ferocious beauty that prominently shone through her and surrounded her with a firelike, red glow that seemed to omit golden sparks.
It wasn't long before Vesuvia's eager look caught the tall man who stood right at the back of the crowd, nearly hidden in the shadows that the flickering torches couldn't reach. "You!" Vesuvia, who easily had taken over control of Siona, pointed at Tyras. "Would you care to step into the light where I can see you - please?!" The honey that dripped from the Goddesses words seemed poisonous. Tyras's heart had sunk when the woman on the stage had pointed him out but, after a moment of hesitation, he duly stepped forward into proper sight.
Despite his age Tyras was still slender and athletically built, though not too muscular, and his skin showed a healthy and well-becoming bronze colour. His short, silky hair ranged somewhere between golden blonde and copper red which looked exceptionally well in the firelight of the torches. His face with its high cheekbones and aristocratic nose was far more handsome than he himself believed, though he had noticed through the years that his smile, revealing pretty dimples in his cheeks, went well with the women. But what had really caught Vesuvia's attention to this man were his eyes - his shady, misty-green eyes with their flickering golden sparks. They seemed like a mystifying veil, and the Goddess was eager to discover what was hidden behind it.
Tyras hardly noticed the dutiful Hapred hurrying onto the stage and showing Vesuvia his name on a roll of parchment. He was completely lost in his own thoughts that raced through his mind. Did this mean that the Goddess was really about to pick him? Would he have to spend the whole night with her? Would he even be able to bring himself to making love to her, or would his body refuse, disgusted by the passionless ritual?
Hapred was clearing his throat very loudly and purposefully, calling Tyras back to attention. Calmly the man gazed up at the Goddess standing on the marble stage, looking down on him with a rather dirty smile curling her lips. Her deep, smoky voice was vibrating with expectation. "Tyras of Pompey - you are selected."
A heavy silence followed her words, while the other contestants, Hapred and the Goddess herself all waited for Tyras to speak the accepting phrase. Tyras, well aware of their eyes resting upon him, took a deep breath, steadied his voice and answered very clearly:"I refuse."
