Cynane

Slaves

Posts
274
Last visited
Saturday at 07:44 AM
Player
Atrice

About Cynane

Briton Bodyguard

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Katheryn Winnick
Location
Rome (regrettably)

Quote

She's a killer queen...
Face Claim

Katheryn Winnick
Location

Rome (regrettably)

Topics I Participated In

New Kid on the Block

Started by Antheia · July 12

All the other slaves had been milling about in chaos before, but now they seemed to be gravitating towards one corridor. For the first time, the invisible defensive barrier of non-recognition seemed to fall away from their eyes and they laid down their arms, marking the dinnertime armistice in the battle to keep the Imperial household running smoothly.
Not wanting to be left behind, Antheia swung her legs off her wooden crib and hurried to follow the flock.
While her mind was focused on working out what was going on, Antheia's already muddled recollections of the unfamiliar passages of the slave's quarters slipped away: rounding a corner, she clean forgot that this was where she had nearly been decapitated by a pole-arm when Volusa had brought her here earlier that day. The other slaves hung left by force of habit, and Antheia, seeing the gap in the crowd as an opportunity to get ahead in the queue, decided to hang right. If Fate was watching from above, she must have been splitting her sides at the cruel inevitably of her handiwork. Smack!
The pole-arm collided with her shoulder, knocking Antheia sideways into a ratty-looking slave who gave her an evil glare.
Muttering hasty apologies, Antheia spun to accost - or at least look at (she wasn't really one to reprimand) - whoever was responsible for the rapidly swelling bruise on her arm.
The first thing she noticed about the woman was that she was tall, taller than a lot of men she knew. She didn't look Mediterranean, with blonde hair drawn up messily in braids on her head. Her expression was neutral, but her eyes were weapons in themselves, sharpened by being lined with kohl.
Antheia realised she was gawping.
@Atrice
Being Stupid Is An Art

Started by Marius · April 12

Why the fuck did they always stick him against big Germans?!
Here he was, rented out to perform for the very finest of his captors, and he was losing. The bugger was three inches taller, about six wider, and he was wielding a bronze axe that probably cost more than...than Owyn did, actually. He'd smashed up Owyn's collarbone, the links of his ringmail just barely holding, so now the Briton was looking like he was going to be out of it. The haze of combat was still right up inside him, so most of the pain was a buzz in the back of his skull. The spectators weren't the rough sort - they didn't cheer, but you could see them thinking about whether or not to let Owyn live.
Bad news, but the German had lost, he just didn't know it.
See, Owyn had got a nick to his back leg near the start of the match. Now he could see the wound opening up more and more, and the brute's left foot was starting to drag. Owyn was right handed. Didn't take a fool to work out what came next.

The German came up high in a big swing, Owyn traversed to his right, and leapt past the man's left shoulder. As he did, he switched his sword to his left and lanced out at the other gladiator's kneecap. It hurt like everliving fuck, with his collar screaming across his chest, but it was worth it. Usually, a decent fighter could get their leg out the way, but not this time. Owyn felt muscle and sinew give way beneath his tip, and it was all done. The German was down to one knee, bleeding like a pig, and becoming faint.
A look, a signal, and that was that. His opponent had been allowed to live, and 'Marius' saluted his hosts with one arm, and was dismissed.
But now? NOW HE HAD TO FUCKING WALK BACK.

He was removed to a slave's quarters to wait for his escort back to the Ludus, and he didn't bother to remove his chainmail. They'd taken his sword off him, and bound a few of his cuts. Once he got back, he'd acknowledge the pain. Until then? Best just to sigh and pretend to be a big dumb animal.
@Atrice
How We Met

Started by Tarbus · April 3

April, 76 CE
“Tst, tst…” Tarbus gave the headstall a shake with his good hand, to get the stallion’s attention. He spoke gruffly to him in Dacian. “Stop being an asshole. You’re not going to get to fuck her so just keep your dick to yourself!” He gave the stallion’s flank a flick with the tip of the lead, making the animal side-step skittishly, its partially released member swinging pendulously as its hooves beat a little tattoo on the stone flags of the yard.

On the far side of the stable area, a mare in heat pranced, aware in her own way that she was garnering interest and causing a ruckus. She too might be receptive to some four footed frolicking but that was not going to happen. Typically, mares in heat were not brought to the stables at the circus, just for this very reason. Someone must have screwed up and miscalculated her cycle. Tarbus wished he knew who to thank for this added headache to his day. He chucked the lead strap once more, moving his hand closer to the halter, just in case the amorous racer decided to give him any trouble.

The horse leapt a bit, this time towards the slave, but Tarbus stood his ground and muscled the knucklehead, with their shoulders pressed hard against each other, man to beast. “The gods take you! Be still!” Tarbus grumbled sternly, as the groom approached once again, in their combined effort to get the excited animal harnessed and ready to be brought together with the rest of the team. In this the two men were falling behind, and that was never a good thing.

Suddenly, the mare nickered, a true ‘come hither’ call. The stallion reared, cowkicked – narrowly missing the groom’s head – and plunged forward, almost knocking Tarbus, cursing, to the ground. But he managed to keep his feet and was running after the horny animal, trying to grab the leather lead that flapped in the air, while those many people in the yard jumped to the left and to the right trying to avoid the fractious creature, who trumpeted his love song to the heavens.
Run

Started by Charis · February 21

Peregrinus was against her chest, tied to her with a piece of fabric wound over him and around her back, finishing with a knot at her waist. The six month old boy seemed unperturbed by it, and it had the benefit of keeping her hands free - something she sorely needed. In one hand she carried a rough woven sack filled with blankets and cloth for Peregrinus, and in another bag slung over her shoulder she carried a spare tunica for herself, what little food she'd been able to swipe and a wineskin filled with water. She was shrouded in a cloak, but besides that and the bags she carried and her son, that was all she had in the world. She bit back bile at the thought.
It was late, or was it early? Somewhere after midnight, either way, but the streets of Rome were full of laughter and merriment of some festival that Charis had never learned the name of. She looked a little out of place; child strapped to her body and lugging her bags, but the city was full of unusual sights and most people paid her little heed. She drew to the appointed spot, at the gate leading out to the via Flaminia. What are you doing. Cynane wasn't here, she should be here by now, shouldn't she? Charis was sure she was already late and her courage was failing her. She shouldn't have done this, she shouldn't even be thinking about it - she was positive that even the thought of escape warranted crucifixion. She felt the bile rise in her throat again and fought the urge to be ill. Hold your nerve.
This hadn't been planned for long, only a matter of weeks ago she had been contented enough in her life - Peregrinus was growing, strong and healthy and things with Tertius were a little less awkward and then she had met with Cynane and it had all unravelled. The thought of trying to do this, be here, forever without her friend - who was so determined to leave and forge her way back to Britannia...Charis could have cried - and she was not a cryer by nature! The image of her son, growing up free and happy and healthy in the wilds and forests and fields of her homeland, away from his fathers pervasive, insidious influence, with her - and not just her as a slave, her as a free woman and his mother...it was too much for her to refuse. She had agreed, and now here she stood. But the nagging doubt did not escape her and the longer she waited in silence, alone, the more she wanted to turn on her heel and make haste back to the domus. Where are you Cynane.

TAG: @Atrice
You Should See Me in a Crown

Started by Cynane · October 15, 2020

September, 75AD
Evening in Rome. She wasn’t even sure what she was doing out this late, honestly she ought to head home to the palace – but Claudia was probably already sleeping and Volusa lay there too somewhere and the praetorians guarded her door. Cynane wasn’t in a hurry yet. She’d been visiting a bath house and was taking a long way back to the palace. The sun went down as she walked and people came out in the streets. Some had finished the day’s work, others were just beginning.
In an open square where a few streets met, a stage had been set up and actors were getting ready to perform some kind of play. Benches had been set up in front of it and Cynane stopped, curious. It was rare she got to see these things. Some wealthy senators squeezed their way past her and sat down on the front rows and Cynane took a seat in one of the back rows, by the end of a bench so she could easily get up and walk away.
The play began. A fisherman’s wife was waiting for her husband to come home from the sea, but he didn’t come and what was a lonely woman to do then, when higher ranked men wanted her attention? Cynane rolled her eyes, well, that woman was to kick their crotch and tell them to go find someone else, she thought to herself. But people around her were amused and she thought she better be on her way. That’s when a man came to her side, pushing his way in to set next to her by the end of the bench. He was larger than her. Much larger.
Cynane stared at the stage, lifting her chin as she did it, “Well well, a barbarian woman!” The man said, looking at her. She was dressed in her preferred clothes, breeches and a thigh-long tunica, not very feminine at all. The most feminine was probably her long braid down the back. Meanwhile the man... was clearly drunk, “I never had a barbarian before… not one who actually looks like one…” He said with a grin and placed a hand on her thigh. Cynane inhaled a breath, glaring at him, “Get your hand off me!” She bit back, pushing at his hand with hers, but he didn’t stop there. Instead he caught her wrist and held it tight… “Uh she talks! And fights!” He laughed and stood, “I like it…” He said while attempting to drag Cynane with him. Fuck! She tried to jerk her hand away from his, thinking she could probably easily use some kind of attack to get him away, but the square was crowded and she was, after all, just a slave.
@Sara
A New Beginning

Started by Sara · August 23, 2020

20th of August, 75AD
It had started an hour ago. A dull ache in her back that woke her up from her sleep and wouldn't settle. It wasn't excruciating, but it ached. By the time the hour was up, the ache had morphed into an odd sort of...pressure that couldn't quite be explained or articulated, every ten or perhaps twenty minutes that gripped her belly - deep inside. She knew enough to know that this might be the beginning. She was not due for two, or three more weeks but the midwives had warned her that with her size an early labour was not to be unexpected. She felt the waves of fear crash over her as she sat cross legged on her bed, trying to breathe through the gripping sensation as the other two girls in the room snored in their slumber, oblivious. She felt breathless, and not just from the discomfort, but from the panic that consumed her. She felt flushed, hot and trapped. It couldn't be now could it? She wasn't ready, she hadn't sent word to Cynane or her sister, she hadn't put plans in place if...if things did not go well. She choked and Jocasta stopped her snoring, but mercifully didn't wake. She couldn't stay here.
As the waves of the pressure settled again, she carefully and quietly pushed herself up from her cot and padded gently from the room into the chill of the early morning. It must have been still well before dawn - the sky was an inky black, but there was a bright moon and she found herself following the familiar route into the garden. One arm cupped her bump and the other reached out to the columns to settle herself, not out of pain - that had stopped for now - but from the fear overtaking her.
She finally made it outside on unsteady feet with flushed cheeks and moved to sit on the bench. She glanced about the place, deserted in the dead of night and tried to ignore the memories of all that had happened out here; praying to her Gods (where were they now?), that first taste of a relationship with Tertius, playing with Antonia, arguing with Teutus...everything that had happened to her here had started from the garden. Maybe that was why she was drawn here now? She must have been sat there for a little while as the pressure, the gripping pain started again and she winced, reaching out one hand so her fingers clasped the stone of the bench and she let out breathless little mewls of discomfort. As she breathed through it (dreading that this was only the beginning, and the pain would get so much worse), she didn't realise somebody else was approaching.

TAG: @Atrice
Another World, Another Time

Started by Atrice · August 17, 2020

60 AD
Cinnia had finished her training for the day early on, so that she could ready for this party. Gone were now the spears, the shields and the swords and the armor. Instead she had been dressed up, which didn’t happen all that often. She’d always been more comfortable in the convenient clothes for battle, rather than the inconvenient dresses they made her wear for occasions like this. But her father, Owen, had told her not long ago that there was a great celebration to attend for everyone who mattered in the Brigantes tribe. And that included her family, for Owen’s brother was the King of the Brigantes. And now it would be made official, that the princess Ysulda – Cinnia's cousin – was to marry one Eppitacos, the new and young King of the Catuvellauni. And so she would be wearing a dress.
She had not really met him before, but of course she’d heard about his victories and she was curious to see this young man, who was now suddenly king of one of the other tribes. She wore a light blue dress over her white and light flax shift this afternoon. Around her waist was a leather-belt with a very finely made belt buckle. Her hair had been done up on her head and her sisters had put flowers in her hair, even!
Together, the whole family arrived to the celebration of Eppitacos and Ysulda. There was a feast, food to be had and drinks to be had. Cinnia was 16 years old and of course she had attended weddings and celebrations and the festivals that marked the wheel of the year, but this was different. She got the sense that this really mattered. She stood together with her own family, not far from the most important couple tonight, when Ysulda's father declared the betrothal official and the druids would declare it sacred. Together, the two tribes would now stand against their common enemy, Rome. And together, they would defeat Rome and send them back to the hellhole they came from!
Afterwards, the proper festivities began and Cinnia suddenly found that her brother and her sisters had drifted from here. And there he was, suddenly, not so far from her. The young king Eppitacos. She looked at him over the edge of her cup of mead, he wasn’t too bad looking at all. Ysulda was lucky, she thought. She was betrothed to a King, who was also known as a warrior and he was good looking. He had it all, didn’t he? Would she ever be so lucky and marry such a man? One could only hope he was nice too. And now he was looking her way. Gods, this was stupid. As if she stood a chance, when he was already claimed by her cousin.
@Chris
No Boundaries

Started by Atrice · June 20, 2020

July, 75 AD
For how long had she been coming here now? Last time she saw Charis in person was in February, before she attempted to get rid of the child. It had been months now since she last saw her friend and she supposed most people would have given up by now. But not Cynane. She did not give up on her friend, not when she had promised she would be there when Charis needed her. And so here she was, again, standing opposite the home of Tertius Quinctilius Varus, where Charis lived. She hadn’t tried to approach anyone from the house, not since she met Teutus, who had been entirely unhelpful. Such a friend he was!
She still hadn’t seen Charis though and she came here every week, on the same day they used to meet and around the same hour. Nothing had changed when it came to that. But there had been no sign of her friend and she didn’t wait as long as she once had. Maybe it was pointless. Maybe she should give up and return to the palace and come back next week…
But then, just as she was about to turn away once more, a petite figure left the domus and it was a figure that was easily recognizable – even with the bump she had, she was quite a few months pregnant now, wasn’t she? Cynane felt slightly bad for having almost scolded Charis for wanting to get rid of the child. It wasn’t a child of love, after all. And her friend almost died because she didn’t want it – but now she was having it anyway.
She almost felt shy, as she decided to approach her friend. She walked closer, hoping Charis would see her, unless she had forgotten everything. She didn’t seem to notice Cynane, so she approached her and touched her shoulder gently, suddenly feeling almost on the verge of tears and overwhelmed by meeting Charis once more… “Erea…”
@Sara
Ready to learn

Started by Ejder · June 19, 2020

Trigger warning: mention of assault attempt
July 75

It had been weeks since Florus had met Cinnia out in the markets. Weeks, during which he'd been extremely busy. Busy with the gardens, first and foremost, but then also busy with figuring some very obvious things out. And, then, of course, after the earthquake, there was so much to do, so much to repair in the gardens. Trees to replant, new plants to order, the lack of rain to deal with, and the neverending battle against weeds. Yes, Florus had been very busy.
He had wanted to see the other Briton again, but chance had not favoured him, and for a while he hadn't thought about her offer anymore. Until one evening when he was returning to the villa from the baths, and a hand had violently grabbed his arm from a shadowy alley. Florus had said he wasn't carrying any money, but that hadn't stopped the stranger from pawing at his waist, despite his evident lack of a purse. He'd managed to turn around and shove the stranger away, and had run all the way back to the villa. The altercation had lasted all of ten seconds, but it had been really stressful. What if he hadn't been able to get away? Surely he would have gotten beaten up badly.
Since then, though, Cinnia's offer had come back to the forefront of his thoughts. She'd said there was a chance he could end up in a situation like this, and he almost had. Florus had to take it seriously. And he had to heed her advice.
This was why, on his next free day, he had walked all the way to the imperial palace, and, as Cinnia had said, asked for her by name at the servants' entrance. The gardener stood there waiting, his back straight, hands behind it, feet apart at shoulders' width, immobile.

@Atrice
Neptune's Wrath

Started by Kali · June 8, 2020

The palace at night was peaceful, and the prince was one to sleep past dawn. Not raising until Apollo's rays peaked through the gossamer drapes that fluttered in the gentle breeze. That night, however, Titus was awake. Fretting in his bed as he felt some sort of unnerving feeling settled into the pit of his stomach. Almost as if he knew the gods were angry for some reason. His body slave tried to get him to cast the thought away. That is just his mind playing tricks on him. Still, it needled at him. Until he finally began to doze off thanks to mere exhaustion.
That was when the earth began to quake, rattling the buildings of the city, including the palace. Titus bolted up right as the room around him shook, he could see his men slowly coming to, shouts around the palace could be heard. "We need to get to the gardens." He told them as he stood, grabbing his tunic and sandals. Pulling them on as he moved quickly out of his room. Slaves were running around trying to save what they could from being destroyed as they too headed towards where they would be safe at.
Another tremor hit, this time stronger , forcing him to make haste before he stopped and realizing he didn't recognize any of the slaves as his younger brother's. "Get to the gardens, I need to go find Drusus!" He said, pushing his servants and his tutor towards the way to safety before making his way towards the rooms he knew housed his brother.
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30 6 75 | sorry fort he anticlimactic starting post lol | open to those living in the palace. | no posting order, short posts are ❤️