Cynane

• Quote

  She's a killer queen...

• Face Claim

  Katheryn Winnick

• Location

  Rome (regrettably)

Recent Posts

1. 

   Being Stupid Is An Art

   8 hours ago

   Back in Britannia, when she was young, it had almost been a big deal that she was related to Ysulda. And if she had not been captured, they probably would have married her off to some nobleman either from their own people or another tribe. She would have been part of an alliance and once she had kids, life as a warrior would have ended. If she had kids. Cynane had a vague idea that she might not be able to, but she rarely thought about it. It wasn’t on the table anyway. And right now, talking with Owyn was much more interesting. She told him how she got captured and how she knew Eppitacos and Owyn agreed that they owed Eppitacos nothing.
    She smiled sadly at his words, “Maybe it is… a lifetime away.” It felt like it. She had been young, when she came here. Now she had lived more than 30 summers and winters. She didn’t feel so young anymore. She was in her own thoughts, not seeing what Owyn was doing, until he suddenly offered her a little figurine, a little carving that seemed somewhat familiar.  
   Cynane took it, thinking he’d just show it to her, but then he began talking and it sounded like he would gift it to her. She was surprised. It was very fine work, the carving, even beautiful, and it reminded her of home. Owyn called her royalty and the figurine was his tribute to her. He was smiling as he spoke and Cynane curled her fingers around the carving, hiding it in the palm of her hand. Owyn was really being too kind. She’d spoken so harshly to him to begin with. She didn’t deserve this.
    “You don’t have to give it to me. I don’t need any tribute…” She said, this was so unexpected and she felt touched in a way she rarely did. Cynane wasn’t sure about what to say or what to do. And she usually always was.  
   “Maybe we should keep on walking…” But she made no move to leave the archway yet. Just turned the little carving between her fingers.
   @Knight
   
2. 

   Run

   9 hours ago

   She was sweet when she did that, just wanting to sleep in, but there was no such thing as sleeping in, when you were a slave on the run from your master. The sooner they got further away, the better... because the further away they got, the better! Cynane smiled at her friend though, who eventually cracked open one eye and bid her a good morning. She reached out for her son and then joked about their walk, "Yes, it's as good a day for walking. I think we should take a stroll." She replied with a little laugh, while Charis caressed her son and didn't get up yet. Instead she wondered where they were and feared they were moving the wrong way. 
   "We're heading North, because that's the way Britannia is." Cynane said, "I believe we're going to reach Gaul soon. Then we can hopefully find a wagon or something, make it easier to travel." She said and looked at her arm. She really had to get rid of the slave-brand that was on there, that she got when she was a fresh gladiatrix in Rome. They'd see the scar though, if she cut it off. Maybe she should burn something else on top of it instead. It would hurt, but it might be worth it. As far as Cynane was concerned, they were no longer slaves. They were escaping, they'd run away and they did that to be free. So they were free. 
   "Do you want me to teach you how to see the direction?" She asked, "Once you're up, of course. There's a little to eat if you're hungry. And there's a stream not far from here." She smiled at Charis, wanting to make this trip as easy for her as possible, because Charis also had Perry to think about. 
   @Sara
   
3. 

   Being Stupid Is An Art

   18 hours ago

   It wasn’t often she got the chance to talk about these things – her actual opinions on Romans. She just hoped Owyn wouldn’t tell on her. Gods, why was she talking about this to him? What if he did betray her? She’d see the arena again. Probably for the last time. But it felt good, talking! She always tried to not talk about these things, because she feared what would happen if she did. Still she had her opinions though and she was still proud, so she would never forget what Rome had done to her and how unfair it was. And it wasn’t much better to men like Owyn, especially judging by his scars! She’d met other gladiators and they didn’t all look as scarred as he did, perhaps some did better than he did. Or perhaps he’d tried to resist their treatment, which meant they just made it even worse. Fucking Romans!
    Owyn said he never thought about it, what happened to the female gladiatrices and he thought she got the rougher end of it, “It definitely was... rough, as you say. But I don’t know. You don’t seem very well either. They mess with all of us, just because they can. I’m glad I did well enough though, to be removed from that life. Being a bodyguard is much better.” She explained, she was glad that she was with Claudia now. She kind of wished Owyn could share a similar fate, perhaps he could prove a good enough fighter to be put into some other, more decent service. Honestly though, she thought she’d rather have a thousand scars on her body from fights than have one more man force himself upon her.
    She tried to change the subject though, because Owyn mentioned a name she recognized. He named Eppitacos their leader and said he fought under him and continued after Eppitacos was lost to the Britons.
    “I knew him, when we were both younger. He married my cousin, after all.” She explained bitterly, both because Ysulda betrayed them all and because if it hadn’t been for Ysulda, maybe she would have had a chance with him. She’d liked him, when they met at the betrothal party. But after that, things didn’t go well and now she felt betrayed by Eppitacos too, “And he failed to… come to our aid. I fought a battle under him, when I was 17. The Britons won, or so I heard. But the Romans were not entirely defeated, because they managed to take down a small party of our people in an ambush. I was one of those.” She sighed, “So I don’t feel I owe Eppitacos anything.”  
   @Knight
   
4. 

   Being Stupid Is An Art

   Wednesday at 05:08 PM

   Cynane often spoke her own language… or, well, not often, but when she could. When she was alone with Charis, away from Charis’ owner, they usually spoke their own tongue. And also with some of her other Briton friends. She had certainly never forgotten it and never would, because she might be a Roman slave, but she’d never forget where she was born and raised. To this day, she was still a proud warrior of the Brigantes.
    Owyn seemed surprised though, when she spoke to him, and then he replied. He hadn’t forgotten and that made her smile. The more he spoke, the more it sounded right, as if he had to re-remember some of the words. He mentioned that the Romans did as they pleased and she huffed, that was right! And then he repeated her name… and his own and others. Eppitacos’ name made her look at him. He knew Eppitacos? Fucking Eppitacos? She still had a few bones to pick with him, even if he lost an arm now and had been sold off, his years as a gladiator over. He and his men still failed to rescue Cynane and the party she was in, at that battle. The story went, that it was the battle that the Romans did not win. But they weren’t entirely defeated either. And the survivors of the Britons they did defeat, they took as slaves. That’s why she was here. Because of fucking Eppitacos! He hadn’t been so bad when she met him again. And they’d been close when she was younger, since she met him at the betrothal party. But she still hadn’t forgiven him for the battle.
    She’d been lost her in thoughts and leaned slightly back against the wall of the archway, when Owyn spoke of how he was ashamed of his wounds and she seemed free of them. And since they already begun and these were kind of tense subjects... she continued speaking in their own tongue.
    “I’m not entirely free of them… but I was a gladiatrix, before I came to the palace. Gladiatrices are just there for their fun and pleasure. In many ways. So they make sure the gladiatrices know to not injure each other too badly.” She said in a bitter tone, she’d been forced too many times to count and she could barely remember if it had ever felt good. Which meant it hadn’t. Being violated was not amusing to her. She shook her head, trying to get rid of the memories that came back.
    “Anyway… you mentioned names… you know Eppitacos?” She tilted her head, also making no move to leave the archway, it was kind of nice to just be here and just… talk. Owyn wasn’t so bad after all.
   @Knight
   
5. 

   Being Stupid Is An Art

   Tuesday at 08:07 PM

   Cynane reached the archway first and waited for Owyn, this was nothing more but one slave helping another, one former gladiatrix helping a gladiator. That’s all it was. He was in pain and she’d help him out, because that’s what you did. Plus he was Brigantes, like her. All the more reason to try and befriend him and help him out. Now he stood there, seeming oddly uncertain, as he bent a bit over to shrug off the chainmail while she pulled at it. His tunic came with it, it was a worn and old blue tunic, worn compared to the light blue tunic that Claudia let Cynane wear underneath the leather armor. It was kind of a uniform by now; something she always wore. Owyn’s was a contrast to hers.
    The same applied to his body; his torso and his arms now visible and very scarred. As if he’d been through a lot of rough fights and he didn’t take them well. Cynane had luckily ‘only’ been a gladiatrix, they were mostly there for entertainment before the real gladiators came in. Something to amuse the fancy Romans and turn on the male ones especially. Gladiatrixes had to put on a good show. They weren’t there to be fierce beasts like the men. And they had to be good looking for the men who wanted them after the fights. She felt sorry for him though, that he’d gone through so much, gained so many scars. It even looked like some of the scars were old burns. Fuck the Romans, she thought. For doing this to Owyn.
    Once Cynane caught the chainmail in her arms, Owyn was quick to put his tunic back on and then he, for some reason, apologized and seemed to avoid her gaze. He thanked her, but seemed ashamed of something… the scars? His need for help? Maybe both…
    “Don’t worry about it.” Cynane said, “It’s not like it’s your fault. It’s those bloody…” She trailed off, fearing someone might hear her and run off to tell those at the palace. Often the streets in Rome had both eyes and ears, after all, and they weren’t all friendly, “Maybe we should talk about something else. Unless…” She smiled a bit, “You haven’t forgotten our own tongue, have you? You still speak our language?” She asked the last question in the language she grew up with, that he must have been growing up with too, since he was even from the same tribe as she.
   @Knight
   
6. 

   Being Stupid Is An Art

   Tuesday at 05:07 PM

   It was kind of nice to meet another from her own tribe, even though she’d almost lived half her life in Rome now. She hadn’t been back and hadn’t been with her people since she was captured and brought here. Not really. In Rome, she was just one of the slaves from Britannia. And she was even one from Longinus’ lot, she’d heard there were quite a few of those. Bastard. And he didn’t even feel bad about any of what he’d done. He just tore people from their homelands and sold them here in Rome, for his own profit and other people’s pleasure.
    Owyn luckily interrupted her thoughts, repeating her name in their own tongue and it was nice hearing it. Then he said that Brigant-women were smarter than the men and she chuckled, “Maybe we are. I guess Owyn is your actual name too… not the Roman name.” She hadn’t paid attention during the fight to hear what his name was and they hadn’t said anything after. But she knew the Romans liked to change people’s names here.
    Then she’d seen how he pulled at the armor he wore and she wondered if he wanted to get it off. Such things were heavy though, she wondered if he would carry it back to the ludus or if she would. But he’d have to get it off first.
    “Sure.” She said, looking around. They weren’t yet in any of the busiest streets and she spied an archway nearby, “Come… we can do it over here.” She pointed and headed over there, waiting for him. It would seem weird to the Romans. A woman helping a man get his chainmail off… and in public too. But she didn’t care. They could think all they wanted. And all they’d think was that the infamous Cynane was still strong enough to lift a chainmail, which wasn’t bad gossip in her opinion. Hopefully that would be what they thought. Not that she was up to anything else with him. She wouldn’t like that very much. She wasn’t even attracted to him… was she?
   @Knight
   
7. 

   Being Stupid Is An Art

   Tuesday at 12:57 PM

   Cynane arched a brow, genuinely surprised, when he said she was right in what she said. What? A man admitting a woman was right about something? Maybe there was hope yet! He admitted he wasn’t much a warrior now and said she would have come out much better than he did.
    “I’d probably be injured, I'm not immortal." She said with a small smile, gossip in Rome would have it otherwise, after all, "But yes… they do reward you for giving them what they want. Which isn’t always bad. That’s how I ended up here, I guess.” She explained. If she hadn’t made a point of fighting well and giving a proper show, who knew if Claudia’s uncle would ever have noticed her and picked her to be Claudia’s new bodyguard? And she liked it way better here than she did when she was still a gladiatrix at the ludus.
    Owyn asked more into Cynane’s own story then and wondered where she was from. That caused her to look his way again, as they were slowly exiting the large area of the palace and going into the streets of Rome. Maybe he wasn't the worst man ever anyway. Definitely better than many and he was Brigantes. That definitely earned him a point too.
    “My name was Cinnia… but trust the Romans to try and pronounce that right. So they gave me a new name.” She said, rolling her eyes, “You’re really Brigantes? So am I… I don’t meet many of ours here though.” Cynane gave him a smile, but then noticed how he pull at the ringmail he was wearing, as if it was annoying him. Such things were heavy though and you needed a hand getting it off, unless you preferred looking completely ridiculous doing it. She supposed she could lend a hand, if he needed one, “Do you want to get that off?”
   @Knight
   
8. 

   Being Stupid Is An Art

   Tuesday at 11:31 AM

   Cynane would not mind having fought the German instead of Owyn here. Not that she liked fighting and hurting other slaves, but if that’s what she was ordered to do, she’d give them something to look at. And she’d win a more fair fight – she was confident she would win, after all. She knew what she was doing. It wasn’t her fault that her party was betrayed during that battle years ago, causing her to get caught by the Romans.
    Owyn snorted at her words though, stating he didn’t care what the Romans thought because they already won and he didn’t think you could fight Rome - because he already tried. She gave him a look.
    “So did I.” Cynane just said. So he was a war captive too? But newer in Rome, she thought. He didn’t seem to have been here for as long as she had; he hadn’t settled yet. Not that she liked the fact that she had settled, but what else could she do? It wasn’t like she could run away and expected to survive it. Besides, she liked her mistress, at least. She wouldn’t betray her. The only good Roman in a world full of bastards. Owyn broke her from her thoughts, trying to explain himself and then wondered how Cynane would have fought the other gladiator.
    “I would have used this.” She tapped her head with a small smile, “I know, you did too, but I would have given the Romans a show, because that’s what they want. I would have drawn it out, maybe run him tired. I could probably have ducked his axe a few times. It’s not always an advantage to be… large and broad, when you fight. Skill and experience matter much too.” Cynane looked at him, he sure looked the part of a gladiator, didn’t he? He was exactly what she wasn’t. Tall, broad, muscular… she was fit too, and tall among women, but she was also more the agile type than he was, she thought. And she relied a lot on her skill. Not that his looks were bad, she could admire that, but that might be all. In a fight, looks were rarely important.
   @Knight
   
9. 

   Being Stupid Is An Art

   Tuesday at 08:59 AM

   She noticed how he seemed to look her over and fought the urge to roll her eyes. She wasn’t used to men checking her out to see if she could handle herself in a fight – no, most men thought of other things and especially when they saw a fierce guard and former gladiatrix. They’d think about how they could most easily conquer her, and they weren’t thinking about how to conquer her in a fight. At least Claudia didn’t lend her out to this and that man to have his way with her. With Claudia, she felt safe from that at least. But that didn’t mean she liked it when men looked her over like the gladiator did. Didn’t he know better? Wasn’t he a slave too?
    He introduced himself as Owyn and touched his collar bone, hissing as he did. Why in the name of Hel did he do that? If it hurt? He said the German had broken his collarbone and commented on how the Romans made armor.
    “Yes, they know that at least.” She said and watched him get on his feet, he could walk. He walked past her, even. Taller than her and with blonde hair – the Romans liked that in their gladiators, that they looked so different and even exotic. She moved to keep up with him, showing him the discreet way to leave the palace instead of through the large halls and the official entrance. They'd use one of the slave entrances to exit from, that was better.
    “Hopefully your medicus at the ludus can patch you up again. Maybe next time, focus more on the fight and defending yourself… instead of just letting your opponent bleeding out? Or do you want the Romans to think you’re weak?” Because Cynane had definitely never wanted the Romans to think that. Never.  
   @Knight
   
10. 

    Run

    Tuesday at 08:51 AM

    Cynane had barely slept the last few days since they left Rome. She was taking care of Erea… her friend was also a mother, after all, and she had hard work with keeping Perry in check and keeping him happy while they were on the move. She had quickly gotten used to thinking about the small child with his new name, because she liked it. It wasn’t very Roman, after all… and that made it better than Peregrinus.
     They had to make it, because she didn’t want any of them to die. Of course not. And they knew Perry wouldn’t… as Erea mentioned, he’d grow up free somewhere no matter what, but without his mother? No, that wouldn’t happen. Cynane would take care of them both. She liked having someone to take care of and protect. And now she had them. Letting Charis rest, while Cynane was alert and watching out for them all. The further away they got from Rome though, the more she relaxed. They made sure to not use the busiest roads and when they walked through forests, they’d sometimes avoid the roads altogether. Cynane knew they were walking in the right direction though, because she had not forgotten what she learned back home. She knew how to find North by checking the signs of nature. At least it was springtime. It was a good time of the year to travel.
     Another night had gone by and it was early morning now. They were in a forest, again. Cynane had woken first once more and lit a small fire, roasting some roots she’d managed to find. It really would be nice with some meat soon, maybe she should try some hunting? She looked over her shoulder, seeing that Erea was finally stirring a bit and so was the little guy, “Goodmorning Erea… slept well?” She said with a smile to her friend, “The weather seems good today. I think it’ll be a good day.”
    @Sara
    

Topics I Participated In

1. 

   Being Stupid Is An Art

   Started by Marius · Monday at 03:49 PM

   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
    
   
2. 

   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.
   
   
3. 

   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
   
4. 

   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
   
5. 

   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
   
6. 

   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
   
7. 

   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
   
8. 

   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
   
9. 

   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. 
   ---
   30 6 75 | sorry fort he anticlimactic starting post lol | open to those living in the palace. | no posting order, short posts are ❤️
   
10. 

    Guarding You

    Started by Atrice · June 5, 2020

    Late September, 74 AD
    after Road to danger and Consequences
    Everything was taken care of with the princess. Flavia Juliana had slaves ready to help Claudia and Cynane remained quiet, alert and resilient while Claudia was bathed and her blood-soaked dress removed. She didn't speak unless spoken to. She did not take her eyes off Claudia for one tiny instant. It was while Claudia was under her protection, that she could have been hurt… she could have been worse off than she was! She could have been violated or even killed, although the first would honestly have been worse for the princess than the latter. When you died, you died. Living through the aftermath of the other thing… was not something she wished upon the only Roman she truly cared about. Maybe even loved.
    Now Claudia had been bathed and dressed in clean clothes and she had been given a room of her own to stay in while they were here. Aia and Decimus were elsewhere, while Decimus was being patched up and had to rest. Cynane followed Claudia, she would not leave her alone right now. Like a shewolf, she would guard her young with her life.
    She watched how the last of the slaves left the room and finally she and Claudia were alone… to think and to talk, probably. They needed to, after this. Claudia would need it and Cynane would be there for her. But for now, Cynane remained standing near the doorway, so she could check anyone who might want to enter.
    And she waited for Claudia to say something.
    Just something.
    Anything.
    @Gothic
     
    

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