AN: I want to apologize in advance for any historical or conventional errors. I wrote this quickly, and I have a ten-minute window to post it. R&R, please.
Disclaimer: The characters of Julius Caesar belong to Shakespeare and themselves. I claim no ownership.
Outside his window, Brutus can see his much-neglected garden. Occasionally, one of his servants will take pity on him and prune the wild foliage, but they have not done so recently, and the vegetation has begun to overstretch its bounds.
Portia has often told him to take more pride in his lodgings, as few men can claim to own a senatorial mansion, but Brutus cannot bring himself to care. So little matters on these days after the Lupercal! The things that once defined him now seem so trivial, save his honor. Is that what it comes to, he asks himself. Does every man have to choose between his own desires and what others desire of him?
There was a Brutus once that never struggled so.
A raven lands on the balcony edge, and Brutus is reminded of Cassius and his Epicurean beliefs. Many Romans would not sleep easily after seeing this omen of death, but his fellow senator would merely scoff at man's foolishness. Brutus, being a stoic himself, does not take much stock in such signs, but still, one cannot help but wonder.
How to describe Cassius, Brutus muses, as his mind continues to wander. The two of them have blurred the line between lovers and friends so many times that their relationship lacks a defining term. Even with his philosopher's mind, Brutus is not keen to look deeply into the matter. Cassius will do as he pleases, and Brutus will continue to follow him.
The raven caws softly, as if it too were examing itself. Brutus smiles at the thought. Certainly he is not the only being out here alone, finding his deepest self. As solitary as he feels now, there are others feeling the same, and so they are together.
Maybe Caius Cassius is one of them.