Azarion

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Sunday at 06:17 PM
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Chevi

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Aidan Gallagher

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Aidan Gallagher

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Training wheels

Sunday at 06:17 PM

Marcus was going to watch the race. Great. No pressure.
Marcellus was not the words of the worst, but he tended to be more cheerful than what Azarion had the stomach for on a good day. He seemed to regard the younger charioteer as some kind of a little sibling.
"Cheer up, Azarion, it's not a funeral! It's a race, by the gods!"
It might still be a funeral. Azarion rolled his eyes as he got into the chariot. He glanced over at Marcellus. In a real race, they would have the reins wrapped and tied around them in an elaborate way; he had not been doing that in training, because falling and being dragged was much more likely when one was still practicing. He was not sure what they were supposed to do today. Not die, hopefully.
@Echo @Sharpie
There are no words

Sunday at 06:04 PM

Of course Marcus was not alone. Under normal circumstances Azarion would have never barged in on him like this. But this was not normal. Nothing would ever be normal again. And he did not have the words to tell him - although he was not sure if he would, eve if he had his tongue.
Marcus looked agitated, and with good reason. Azarion made more hurrying moriton at him and he followed, which was good, because the young charioteer was not sure what he would have done if he didn't. He hurried along, trusting Marcus to keep up, and trying to swallow the tears burning him up inside.
As they walked through the courtyard to the back door, Azarion paused. He motioned at the doors, trying to signal Marcus to have them closed. If... if whoever killed Safinia belonged to the Circus, they might still be inside the buildings, hoping to go unnoticed. Doors. Closed. He waited for Marcus to understand before he headed to the one that led to the back. Where Safinia was.
@Sharpie
There are no words

January 5

Late October, 75AD (Immediately after Sunset)
Azarion ran across the stables towards the offices that belonged to the Whites. Some people saw him run, and a stable boy even said something, but he pushed past him. He was only vaguely aware that his hands and knees were stained with blood. The way he was running, doubtful that anyone could tell if it was his or someone else's.
He did not wait at Marcus' door, although normally it was the rule to do so. Instead, he burst right in, and once again, he was painfully aware that he could not just yell, blurting out the things he wanted to convey.
Safinia is dead.
Safinia has been killed.
Instead, he made hurried motions to the man, pointing at the door. He would have to show him.
@Sharpie
Sunset (M-V)

January 4

Borena reared up an neighed, shaking her head wildly from one side to the other. Azarion grabbed the reins, but did not yank them, letting her come back down and following with gentle tension as she danced around in her stall. Something had spooked her. But what? It might have been a gnat, or a distant sound of some sort. Usually she was well behaved. Azarion made soft cooking noises, stroking her graceful neck until she stopped fussing. All was well.
They were done with their training session. Azarion had brushed her and cleaned her. He also wanted to give her oats, but the bag by the door was empty. Azarion sighed, looking around. None of the stable boys were nearby. Probably hiding from doing any work. He was not a stable hand anymore, but honestly, the one thing he never minded was taking care of his horses. Azarion brushed some pieces of straw off of his tunic, and walked out of the stables, to the back of the building where the barrels and sacks were kept. It wasn't far from the kitchens. Maybe he'd look in, and cajole an apple out of Safinia. If she was in a good mood.
Walking around the back, he was about to pick up a sack of oats when he noticed the wet, metallic smell in the air. He knew that smell. It was blood. Lots of blood. Twisting his face into a frown, he walked around some barrels. Did someone decide to slaughter something out here? The smell was going to drive the horses crazy. What...
And then he saw her.
There was a lot of blood. A whole pool of it. And in the middle of the pool, there was Safinia.
Azarion yelled, a sound of pure fear and anguish, and ran to her, falling to his knees. She was not cold yet to the touch, but she was definitely, most definitely dead. Her throat had been cut, and her chest stabbed. Congealing blood stuck to Azarion's hands as he touched her. There was no use trying to... do anything? Azarion stood, looking around wildly as it slowly dawned on him. Someone had killed Safinia. Murdered her. And they could not have gone far. With tears burning his eyes, Azarion ran a few steps, then paused again. The reality of losing his friend was crashing down on him. He cried out again, turning back to the stables.
He had to find Marcus. They could not just let Safinia lie out there in the cold.
@Liv
Training wheels

December 1, 2020

Mid-October, 75CE
Azarion was slowly getting better at being a charioteer. A trainee, anyway, since he had not competed in any of the races yet, but Marcus had him on a tight and brutal schedule. Honestly, if he had not cared for the horses' health and safety, it probably would have been even worse. Azarion went to be d every night with aching muscles. But also, he thanked his gods every night that he had something to work for. Even though he couldn't ride the horses freely like he wanted to, and he was not allowed to carry bow and arrows, the chariots gave him a sense of freedom, and hope for his future. One day, they might even free him. If he did well enough.
Which was the only reason why he did not complain when he was told he'd drive a mock race with Marcellus one morning. That man was the worst.
Azarion was not deemed ready for a quadriga yet, but he knew how to drive a biga securely by now. So, the early morning found him up and ready on the race tracks, with only a few men from the sables walking around here and there. Azarion checked the harnesses, the chariot, and patted the horses on the nose, making soothing sounds. Borena and Tabithi had been training alongside him the whole time, and he knew them well. Now it was time to put the whole thing to the test - by racing another charioteer.
@Echo
When I Wake

October 17, 2020

"No...no I didn't want to do anything today. I wanted to see it so I could employ some labourers - or my father could - to do something meaningful but everybody is so angry,"
She did mean well, Azarion could tell. She didn't really know how to help, but at least she was trying, and she did not deserve to get in trouble for that. Also, she didn't really have anything valuable on her person, which was good on the one hand, and on the other, left her with nothing to distribute to the masses in exchange for free passage. Azarion sighed, sitting back down. This was going to be a long day.
"I don't think the riot was my fault... My freedman told me not to come today because everybody was already riled up and there was a riot yesterday a few streets over but...if I didn't come today, then the help would be d-delayed and...I can't do much, but if I can give money to re-build things, Then I should."
Azarion made some gestures. I know you mean well. If she got out of this unscathed, she might still be able to help people. They are just scared and angry. Which didn't mean they were not going to break the doors down, but she did not need to dwell on that. Azarion gestured at the doors, and the freedmen. The noise was moving on down the street. We'll be alright. In different ways, but still.
@Sara
Showoff

October 16, 2020

They had all the spices, and Azarion got to carry them all. Joy. Not like he dared argue with Safinia; she had even more leverage now, knowing about his little adventure at the ludus. She had always been serious trouble, but now she could get him into serious trouble too. Well, at least they had the spices. And now she wanted to eat something.
It had been an eventful day. They did what they came for, acquired the spices. They had money left to eat something (if Safinia deemed him worth of sharing a meal with). And yet, Azarion's thoughts kept returning to the bow. To the feeling of holding one again. It might very well have been the last time in his life to did so. The thought sat heavy in his chest. He thought of the Circus, the horses and the chariots. Would racing ever feel like that?
He could only hope so.
@Liv
When I Wake

October 16, 2020

"I'm sorry...it does not sound...nice."
Azarion quirked an eyebrow. No shit, lady.
"I mean, it doesn't sound right. Or proper."
He shrugged. Well, it wasn't. Nothing that had happened to him had been fair. Not to mention proper. But he was a slave and his life sucked by default. Why was she in a brothel under siege?
"Me? Oh...Oh I was born in Rome, but you mean why I'm here? I...came down here to see if there was something I could do to help. My father is keen that his daughters are charitable and...with the earthquake, these poor people have lost so much...does that sound naive?"
It did. Kind of. She could have just sent her slaves with things to donate. Or paid some people to come help with the cleaning and rebuilding. Why she'd come herself was beyond Azarion, and it did seem kind of naive, given the end result. He tilted his head, looking at her, pointing at her servants, and looking around. Did they bring things? Did the people outside want their charity handouts, or something?
@Sara
When I Wake

September 27, 2020

"Your home?"
Alright, so Azarion was not a drawing prodigy. Honestly he had not done it much since childhood, when he used to draw things in the dust with sticks, so handling a stylus and trying to recreate shapes was not exactly his strong suit. But he did his best, and at least the result kind of looked like a tent. And some horses. He was better at drawing horses.
"How...how did you get here? Sarmatia is miles and miles from here and not in the Empire..."
Azarion arched an eyebrow. How did slaves usually get into the Empire? He crossed his wrists, still carrying some of the scars from him trying to break out of his shackles. He then mimed weapons and fighting, and being handed over to the Romans. Hostage. Originally. He tapped his mouth too. Once he was not useful anymore, he was not suppsoed to speak eaither. He was not sure how much she understood, but at least she'd know it was not a happy story. Tilting his head, he gestured at her. What on earth was she doing here anyway?
@Sara
Showoff

September 26, 2020

The scent was overwhelming, even in the middle of the market where there were already so many smells to deal with. Spices were all good and well, individually or mixed with food, but all in one place... Azarion wrinkled his nose. Safinia, of course, noticed.
"What, didn't your people cook with spices?"
Azarion huffed, looking over the stall. Of course they did. What kind of an idea did people have about whom they called barbarians? He pointed at some of the containers. Ginger root. Thyme. Caraway seed. Strings of garlic. Tarragon. Lemon balm. He could almost taste them. Especially the thyme; the open plains in the springtime often smelled of it.
Safinia began to ask about prices; she seemed content with most of them, but the juniper berries gave her pause. Azarion had no idea how much they should cost; the last time he'd eaten them, he'd picked them himself.
"What do you think? Is that a good amount for three dodrans?"
Obviously not, or she should not be asking. Azarion pulled a ver skeptical face, reaching out to pick up a berry and inspect it up close. He shrugged. Hopefully she'd take over from there.
@Liv

Topics I Participated In

There are no words

Started by Azarion · January 5

Late October, 75AD (Immediately after Sunset)
Azarion ran across the stables towards the offices that belonged to the Whites. Some people saw him run, and a stable boy even said something, but he pushed past him. He was only vaguely aware that his hands and knees were stained with blood. The way he was running, doubtful that anyone could tell if it was his or someone else's.
He did not wait at Marcus' door, although normally it was the rule to do so. Instead, he burst right in, and once again, he was painfully aware that he could not just yell, blurting out the things he wanted to convey.
Safinia is dead.
Safinia has been killed.
Instead, he made hurried motions to the man, pointing at the door. He would have to show him.
@Sharpie
Training wheels

Started by Azarion · December 1, 2020

Mid-October, 75CE
Azarion was slowly getting better at being a charioteer. A trainee, anyway, since he had not competed in any of the races yet, but Marcus had him on a tight and brutal schedule. Honestly, if he had not cared for the horses' health and safety, it probably would have been even worse. Azarion went to be d every night with aching muscles. But also, he thanked his gods every night that he had something to work for. Even though he couldn't ride the horses freely like he wanted to, and he was not allowed to carry bow and arrows, the chariots gave him a sense of freedom, and hope for his future. One day, they might even free him. If he did well enough.
Which was the only reason why he did not complain when he was told he'd drive a mock race with Marcellus one morning. That man was the worst.
Azarion was not deemed ready for a quadriga yet, but he knew how to drive a biga securely by now. So, the early morning found him up and ready on the race tracks, with only a few men from the sables walking around here and there. Azarion checked the harnesses, the chariot, and patted the horses on the nose, making soothing sounds. Borena and Tabithi had been training alongside him the whole time, and he knew them well. Now it was time to put the whole thing to the test - by racing another charioteer.
@Echo
Sunset (M-V)

Started by Lucia Safinia · November 1, 2020

Late October, 75 AD - near the White stables
The sun had already disappeared behind the horizon, and only a few remnants of its light tinted the sky with streaks of lighter blue among the growing darkness. Nightfall meant most well-meaning inhabitants of Rome retreated back into their abodes, and Safinia, on her way from the market, was about to join them in doing just that.
The sack on her back was heavy with turnips and delayed her already slow pace, but if she got the vegetables to the kitchens today then she wouldn't have to venture out in the middle of the day tomorrow, when the crowds were greatest and their patience least for someone standing in their busy path like her.
Another couple of minutes and she would reach the stables, but a curious sensation that Safinia wasn't able to shake off had persisted for a little while now - although whether said while was a minute or thirty she could not say. It was almost as if somebody was watching her very intensely... A pickpocket assessing his next victim, perhaps? She would be an easy one, unable to run away, but unless they wanted to make off with a sack of turnips she had nothing worth stealing on her.
The feeling grew more and more intense until Safinia felt the urge to stop. Standing a little to the side, she looked over both shoulders, but saw nothing through the sack-obstructed view that could explain the odd inkling. Maybe she was just tired and hungry. Yes, that had to be it.
@Atrice
When I Wake

Started by Sara · June 14, 2020

2nd July, 75AD - Porta Absidata
Horatia had many hobbies; foremost amongst them was reading, but besides from her book club which was flourishing, reading rarely offered the opportunity to better her family. Charitable work, on the other hand, was a noble pursuit for women of her class and it was something she genuinely enjoyed. It was why she found herself in the lowest of the low regions surveying the damage caused by the earthquake of two days ago. She was not alone, of course, it would have been suicide for a patrician and a woman to wander freely around the porta absidata without some accompaniment and the freedman employed for her protection trailed behind her, along with a slave of her husbands who had menace on his face and in his gargantuan frame - even if he had the gentlest heart underneath it.
She was here largely to survey the damage before putting plans to her father for money to repair this insulae and shops damaged. Not anything degenerate, of course, she didn't want her charitable deeds to go toward rebuilding a brothel or the like, but a herbalist? A baker? She would be more than willing to impart coin and procure an architect to help.
Her own domus, or Aulus' as it was, had survived fairly unscathed besides a few unseemly cracks that were already being plastered over. To see the devastation of some of the dwellings here though made her almost nauseous. People were still being pulled out from the rubble and she had to turn her head when a woman - of her own age and with bright copper hair so like her own - had been pulled out without life's breath. But being a sheltered woman, she was largely oblivious to the Plebs here. She rarely dealt with them, and had rarer still entered their domain in times of trouble. It was why the murmurs and the shouting passed her by. It wasn't until a stone, followed by a cup of foul smelling liquid were hurled past the small group that she realised something was brewing.
Her freeman glanced at his charge - dressed simply (no need to be ostentatious in times like this) but still obviously wealthy and murmured to her; "We should leave, my lady, it's not safe." But it was too late. The shouting became a chorus of bellows - not directed at her, of course, but at the situation as loved ones were pulled moaning in pain or still completely from collapsed buildings and children wailed in hunger as supplies had ceased arriving into this district. More things were thrown and Horatia felt her heart quicken. She allowed herself to be tugged away from the small riot that was forming from the depressed and the downtrodden, as their shouts grew louder. But her freeman and the slave were not quick enough to pull her out of the mess that the earthquake created as something was thrown, hitting her square next to her eye. The light around her grew dimmer and she fell like a sack into the waiting arms of her freedman.
When she woke up she blinked. Her right eye wouldn't open fully and she could smell acrid smoke in the air, somewhere distant. Somebody was sitting above her and she blinked her good eye and recoiled. Where on earth was she?!

TAG: @Chevi
Black Care sits behind the horseman - Earthquake

Started by Sharpie · June 13, 2020

The first deep rumblings did not waken Marcus. They did, however, awaken the horses in the stables, and they, in turn, woke Marcus (and, hopefully, the stable staff). And then the earth moved.
"Ahura Mazda!" Marcus swore, and rolled out of his bed. His immediate thought was for his son and daughter, his second was for his staff and horses.
He threw on a tunic and left his room, turning to his children's room. Their nurse was looking out of the door, wide-eyed. "Earthquake. Get the children out into the courtyard, and stay there!"
She nodded and withdrew, leaving Marcus to head to the other side of the house, that overlooked the stables of the White faction. There were several people already down there, milling about in apparent confusion. He looked back to see the nurse holding his children's hands in a firm grip.
"Papa!"
"Go with Esther, I will be with you soon - I have to make sure the horses are safe, too."
He headed into the confusion of the stableyard and began to assert order.
"Stay in the middle of the courtyard! "Varica, Bassus, Menelaus, Theseus, Azarion - start bringing the horses out. Don't spook them any more than they are already. Everyone else, you will need to hold them, and if you cannot be calm, at least be quiet!"

@Beauty @Chevi @Echo @Liv @Jane
(Thread title from Horace Odes book III - post equitam sedet alta Cura)
Showoff

Started by Chevi · June 4, 2020

Early June, 75CE
Azarion was a junior charioteer now. It was only a matter of time before he could join the actual races, driving a quadriga around the tacks of the Circus. He had been training for months, making progress, even building up some muscle (although he was still fairly lean for a charioteer). He was wearing the colors of the Whites, and training his own horses.
With all of those things noted, he was definitely sure that he should not be sent on shopping duty.
And yet, here he was.
Since that first, rolling pin and apple fiasco, Azarion only crossed paths with Safinia a few times, usually around meals. There was a tentative truce between them, in which she gave out his two apples, and he only tired to steal more if he was sure he could get away with it, every once in a while. He had risen in status from stable boy to charioteer-in-training. But sadly, said raise did not come with an extra amount of apples. And he had four horses under his care.
Safinia was being sent to the market, and Azarion was told to accompany her, for safety, and for extra hands to carry things. It was a disgrace. As someone a step away from being the star of the races, why did he have to accompany her to shop? Just because he couldn't talk back, and she could wield a rolling pin?... Azarion was not in a good mood as he walked behind her, out of the Circus and around the Palatine. This was not the glamourous life he had been promised.
@Liv