The place was tense. How could it not be, standing in Commodus’s throne room while the uh… remains. Of his last prefect were carefully disposed of. He seemed much more satisfied, nodding a little to himself and going back to leaning casually on his chair. A few grapes being handed to him while the air stayed tense. His blue eyes flickered around for the moment, before they landed on you. He furrowed his brows a little and gave a flick of the wrist,

“You. Step forward.” It always was a bit scary when Commodus would single one of you out. The ominous air of the silent question- were you the next to die so unceremoniously in the great hall? Commodus wasn’t very easy to read (except for when he was) and certainly he didn’t want to give anything away about his thought process (if he had a thought process. Even if rot was debatable if he had a thought process).

Commodus was sat on his throne, lounged out like usual. Thick linens wrapped around him in clothing, a more traditional look- even if everyday Commodus had different eccentric outfits everyday. A laurel crown sitting on his head- bastardized, a golden fake copy of the original. Devoid of the life no matter the flowers Commodus wore with it-. It he was still.. kid of emperor, and they had to listen to him. After all if they didn’t then they’d just hope he chose a quick death for them,