Roo'o and Democros

[ "Only the crows would 'roo" – by Jesse Keskinen, Original story & Characters featuring a synopsis of Roo'o and Democros, Fall 2020 ]

[Through thick and thin had Roo'o and Democros come, from the days when they were young, and the night upon which fate would dictate, play its' hand of sleight.

War between tribes had always raged on, from the earliest of days. For slaves, for resources, a larger tribe would never need a reason to oppress those beneath them.

The tribes which were conquered had generations of their heritage extinguished, their people stripped of their pride, dignity and identity. A fate which all those whose tribes had been conquered went through.

The females would be cast into life-long servitude, while the males would become nothing but tools of war to be used; all resting on the whims of their new masters. The younger, the better they could be molded.... where as uncertainties were straight nipped in the bud.

Demicros was but a slave, few of the sole survivors of his tribe at the time. Large of stature for his age due to his bloodline, he was cast out to the frontlines, it was a fate which was in store for all male, without thought to their age or size.

Dead, he should have been the first time a blade rendered open his chest.
Dead, he should have been the second when a hook nigh gouged out his eye.
Dead, he should have been many times after, for there existed simply no reason why an arrow which pierced him could not slay him, or a blade which carved him could not end his life. But against all the odds, his feet always carried him back, his blood dribbling black.

Dread gave his prowess rise to, as the eyes which had never beholden him, finally shifted. No matter the situation he was thrown into, Democros clung to life like insects to honey. If left unattended, the masters feared, with the pride and strength of this particular slave, did he possess threat to the stability of their lives and ways. So they decided they had to be rid of the trouble while still in the bud.

For the fear of revolt, they could not risk straight execution. Had to conjure a scheme, a ploy so coy none could

They thought of a certain person, of an outcast, only of high caste in name. Roo'o was his name. No way in high heavens would the useless boy be able to tame the monster, monster which bowed its' head to no one, least of all someone of the same age!

That night was Demicros stripped and dragged bare, under pretense of decree of his new master, then forced his head in a bow. Surely with this major slight to the monster's pride, would it run rampant when left alone just the two of them. Smiles were plastered upon the masters' visages, vile, as they walked out. All they had to do now was to wait.

By the morning next did the masters' men assail the quarters, all but expecting a horrid scene of gore and slaughter, the men ordered to execute the monster on spot should they lay their eyes upon it.

Yet evident it was from the moment they stormed in that they coy ploy had been in vain; no eye could observe and injury upon their scapegoat, that one named Roo'o he were. Rather, their eyes could not believe, had the monster truly been tamed? With nigh perfect obedience did the slave which had sown terror even in the masters' hearts stood by the side of this new... master. ]

[Long had it been since, but hardly a day had passed did Roo or Democros not think back to the night, old. Much had happened since, even more had changed, but little which truly mattered.

In the eyes of the world they were a master and slave, only turmoil would be given rise top would it be known what to each other they were. For a master and a slave to call each other a friend... The harsh laws would see them both rather hang.

Time would continue trickling by as it had done to this day, and to the days long in the future. What events would transpire, what hopes would aspire, none could tell, not even the greatest of all seers.

If one matter was certain, it was that the journey would be a bumpy and a long one, and the end of it might not even be a joyous one. ]

taiteilija: JESSE KESKINEN

[Finnish]
Taiteilijapersoona, joka jättää jokaisen kylmäksi. Taide on tälle taiteilijalle ensisijaisesti keino ilmaista itseään muodossa, joka miellyttää taiteilijan omaa silmää. "Jos kiinnostaa, niin kiinnostaa. Jos ei kiinnosta, jätän tekemättä." Vahvat teemat puhuttelevat, ja väännän ja käännän heikommatkin teemat muotoon kuin muotoon. Joustan omien rajojeni puitteissa. Lempikukkani on narsissi. Minkäänasteinen sensuuri on minulle kuin ruskea tahra tyynyliinassa, pyyhkäisy vasten kasvoja.

[English]
An artist persona of his own.
For this artist, art is first and foremost a way to express himself in a way which does not leave the world in ruins. Strong themes and subjects are what I live and make art for. 
Censorship of any degree I consider to be a brown stain on a pillow cover, a slap to a face.