

Titus Sulpicius Rufus
Senatore-
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Liv
About Titus Sulpicius Rufus
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Senator
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Toby Kebbell
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Location
Roma
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Face Claim
Toby Kebbell -
Location
Roma
Recent Posts
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Atratinus' little girl was going to make somebody a perfect Lucretia some day, if the way both her father and other little girls bent her will to theirs was anything to go by. Titus knew as well as both Sempronii who was in the right, but a stern talking to and subsequent punishment was to come later, in private. He watched the two girls for a few seconds as they left with their nurses, thinking to himself they'd be on good terms again when Gessilla and her father eventually left, necklace back in their possession. Atratinus' statement went acknowledged with a minute nod and a hum that could have meant anything.
"No, I've got another one who turns fifteen this year. And then a boy in the middle. But Valeriana is the most spirited of them," Titus smiled diplomatically, although his tone belied a degree of amusement. "All credit to their mother, though, since I wasn't always around. You know how it is." Or did he? They hadn't crossed paths anywhere Titus had been, and he couldn't recall his guest's allegiance during the civil war - if he ever even knew it in the first place.
He popped another grape into his mouth. "I was lucky to have them close by when I was in Dacia, however. Might also explain why my youngest is so lively," he chuckled. More freedom from the pressures and expectations of society for the mother and a lot more quality time for the baby, who naturally learnt mostly through mimicry; hence Valeriana's flair for theatrics. It would be probably squashed out in time as she grew up, but for the time being, Titus didn't want to set that particular process in motion just yet.
Time to do the polite thing again and turn the conversation back to Atratinus; Titus wasn't deep enough into politics that he could just harangue sanctimoniously about his own family. "Are Gessilla's siblings as polite and tactful as she?"
@Sara
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It sounded as though there was no love lost between Atratinus and his daughter's mother, even though they were no longer bound my marriage. Hadn't they learnt to be civil to one another? Or maybe this was what civility looked like. How fortunate Titus was not to know. "I'm sorry to hear it. But the most important thing is that you're all in good health." Both of his guests looked well, even if the little girl was very (too?) prim and proper. Again Titus contemplated the fact that maybe it was his family that was the outlier, but he'd rather have a boisterous child running about than a little lamb like young Gessilla.
Time to interrogate said boisterous child, then, and do what Atratinus' raised brow was bidding him even if he honestly couldn't care less. Schooling his expression into a more serious one for the other senator's sake, Titus gently lifted his daughter's chin so she would look up at him. "You met Gessilla and had a fun time playing together, didn't you?" Valeriana uh-huhed in agreement. "But did you forget to return her necklace when you said goodbye?" Big blue eyes widened with the kiddie variant of indignation. "No! She lent it to me!" Titus narrowed his eyes a fraction. "And until when was that?" Valeriana didn't miss a beat. "Until the next time we met."
He suppressed a sigh. A 'he said, she said' story and whilst Atratinus probably had the right version of the facts, Titus wasn't any more willing to doubt his daughter in front of an audience than the man his own offspring. Taking advantage of her father's momentary distraction and slackened grip, Valeriana turned to blink innocently at her friend, tacking on a charming smile. "That's what you said Silla, isn't it? But I can go get it, since now is the next time." To Titus this sounded like a very sensible resolution, and it was his turn to shoot Atratinus an inquiring look. Hopefully his fellow senator would be satisfied too.
@Sara
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Given how very enthusiastic Atratinus seemed to be doing the talking for his daughter, Titus suspected this would take more than a couple of minutes to clear up. He would have to resume his literary critique some other time, but Landicus was an agreeable chap who knew better than to put any stock in Titus' reviews anyway. Nodding at regular intervals as the other man told the tale of some silly necklace, Titus felt his attention wane, his train of thought veering off in a different direction. Even though Florus was good, he was no match for the imperial slaves that tended to the famed gardens nearby, but maybe there were some tips to be had there...? He would have to speak to him and tell him to go make friends with his fellow gardeners. Tell Tranquillus to tag along, too, under the guise of teaching Florus about some new plant; Titus didn't need his body slave all the time.
Pulled back from his mental tangent, Titus blinked and pressed his jaw to stifle a yawn. Apollo and Diana, so many words to describe a tiff between two little girls. Whoever the 'less than helpful' slave was, they deserved a reward for shooing this sod away. "Ah, apologies for my slave's behaviour, it was not meant to offend you. They are trained to be as protective of my children as if they were their own," he gave a little shrug of his own, then signalled to the slave to go fetch Valeriana as the man, ever observant, dutifully refilled their visitor's cup. There was no escaping it now - Atratinus seemed to want to play at catching up, even if it was likely out of politeness rather than actual interest. And Titus, also out of politeness, would have to humour him. "But where are my manners?" he smiled pleasantly, directing the pair to a group of comfortable sofas. "You must forgive me, I was in the middle of something when I was informed of your presence and I'm afraid a small part of it is still on my mind." It figured that the one time in recent memory he actually was invested in a story, he would be so rudely taken from it halfway through.
Reclining with just the bare minimum of ceremony, Titus nicked a grape from a well-placed bowl and popped it into his mouth, appearing to chew thoughtfully before agreeing with Atratinus. "Indeed, it must have been what - six, seven years? I think I left for Dacia at about the same time as your father passed, if memory serves me right." And if it didn't, it was no skin off his nose anyway. "What have you been up to? I see Gessilla is doing well," - barring her lack of a spine, the poor thing - "is her mother in good health as well?"
He was fortunately saved from having to inquire about other relatives he barely remembered by Valeriana's cheerful appearance, her long-suffering nurse in tow. A shameless "Hi Silla!" echoed in a childish voice, followed by "Hello Silla's papa and nurse!", and the five-year-old climbed up on to Titus' sofa to become little spoon, helping herself to a grape on the way. "Had you met Valeriana before?" Titus inquired, running his hand through his daughter's blonde locks to her giggling delight. If not, there was no time like the present.
@Sara
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Titus was quite sure he had no dutiful clients to listen to that morning, so when the slave came into the tablinium and interrupted his sneak preview of Landicus' latest opus to tell him he had visitors, he was a little surprised. When the slave told him the name of the visitor, he grew puzzled. And when the slave, wringing his hands, added that Atratinus was requesting not only his presence but also Valeriana's and why, Titus narrowed his eyes in distinct displeasure. Bold claims, but he would entertain the man's delusions for the sake of hospitality. He wouldn't bother to put on anything finer than the richly embroidered dark blue tunica he was wearing, though, and definitely not fetch his toga - best to show his unintended guest just how much importance he was accorded.
In the same vein, he would not go and get Valeriana before he knew what the fuss was all about. Either it was a matter for little girls to fix, or one for grown men, and he would find out which was it soon, Titus pondered as he joined his guests in the atrium. "Lucius Sempronius Atratinus, how unexpected." Titus shot the meek-looking child a kind smile, but she only clung harder to her nurse, avoiding eye contact. The poor thing had been dragged here by her father, then.
The slave from before popped back in, offering wine to the two men and water to the girl before slinking off to lean against a wall, in case more refreshments were needed. "My slave tells me you believe my daughter took something that belongs to yours. It's the first I hear of it," Titus took a slow sip at his wine, his tone one of slight amusement. "Would you care to enlighten me as to what has happened? Or perhaps the young lady herself would like to?" It was perhaps unfair to put the little girl on the spotlight like that, but Titus didn't take lightly to somebody dropping by uninvited and demanding his attention whilst at the same time calling Valeriana a thief.
@Sara
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If only Zia was always this deferential, ‘my husband’ this and ‘my husband’ that, things might have turned out a bit differently. But just why she was looking at him in anger instead of the tax collector, Titus held no answer to. Fortunately Densus backtracked after a little while, before Titus had to do anything more than raise an eyebrow and look more than a little displeased with the turn the conversation had taken.
It came as a surprise that the publicanus also dabbled in Greek, and although his accent was atrocious and his wording inelegant, he made his point loud and clear. Titus' first instinct was to agree with the flat-chested part, and he had just begun to acquiesce when a sharp pressure on his leg stopped him. Right, a truly enamoured man would find no flaws in the object of their affections, if all those love-struck poets were anything to go by. They also wouldn't stand for said object to be insulted in their presence. Ugh.
"She makes up for it in other ways, although I don't expect you to be the sort of man who would appreciate any of them," Titus commented gaily in much smoother Greek, the curve of his lips hardening into a thin line before he continued in clear Latin. "My wife does not speak Greek. Latin is the standard around here, as I'm sure you well know. It would be impolite to deviate from it, especially given how hospitable her kin have been to you," he made a sweeping gesture towards the food and drink laid out before them. The tax collector had the decency of looking sheepish and his ears turned a shade redder even if his cheeks didn’t, but before he could talk his way out of it, Titus carried on as if Zal-what’s-his-name had personally appointed him orator defender of the Dacians. “Have you ever been to Britannia, Sextus Densus? There they welcome your sort with spears and stones, not banquets. It would serve you well to look favourably upon your circumstances, as it has me.”
A bald-faced lie if ever was one, but keeping the façade was important and if it came with the bonus of appeasing the tribe’s bigwigs and perhaps even the harpy, it couldn’t hurt. Feeling rather proud of himself, Titus took a sip of his wine, battling the impulse to treat Densus to a smug grin, and in what he thought was a stroke of genius, brought his free hand up to Zia’s cheek and gently ran his knuckles down the side of her face, shooting her a concerned glance as if wondering if his performance been good enough for this Cleopatra wannabe.
@Sara
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Whence or why those red cheeks suddenly appeared on Zia's face, Titus couldn't be entirely sure, but he did have an inkling. Interestingly enough, he found out he didn't like it. So a reasonable (although on occasion terribly stupid) specimen of fine senatorial stock such as himself evoked no passion in her, yet a burly and corrupt provincial did? Women were indeed strange creatures, and Barbarian ones even more so. Some saying about pearls and swine he had once heard from an acquaintance who had spent time in Judaea came to mind, but although it felt relevant Titus failed to recall the whole thing.
If only she could have been as convincing in every aspect! For what was supposed to be an adoring look, Zia was making a terrible job of it. Titus knew she was capable of producing genuine ones; he had witnessed more than a few every time little Luto was around and behaving. Maybe that was what good actors did to fool their audience, but that was a lesson come too late for the current ruse. He found it exceedingly hard to draw on previous experience to get out of the trap the sly bitch had set for him, though, because he had none. His late wife hadn't lived long enough for them to get to that stage, and drunken bouts of proclaiming his appreciation for his friends did not carry the meaning intended for the present situation.
Still, since Densus seemed to have swallowed her story with only a few reservations - slow nods, doubtful grunts, eyebrows shooting up into his somewhat receding hairline as if to reach father Jupiter - Titus supposed he could do no worse. A bit of liquid courage to make the lump in pit of his stomach easier to bear first, then a fond squeeze to the harpy's hand and a show of meeting her gaze with a cloyingly sweet one of his own, " Of course I do. I could never forget our wedding night," - and oh how true that was - and then the final touch of a bashful chuckle before he turned to the tax collector. "It's hardly unnatural to forge a special bond with the one person to show you kindness in a bad situation, wouldn't you agree?"
Densus did of course agree, and an inkling of understanding crept upon the man's handsome features. It would not be the first time a prisoner grew sympathetic towards their captor... or a tribe towards their publicanus. "Indeed it was a blessing that even in a complicated situation you found comfort in each other. That which starts bitter may sometimes end sweet," the man drawled in his raspy voice, dark blue eyes glinting. "And how very brave you two are, to defy tradition in the name of love. I can't imagine your Roman relatives were understanding?" Densus suggested, training his shrewd gaze on Titus for an instant before directing it to Zia. "Or your tribesmen, that you held their enemy high above all others?" The man's look didn't waver, clearly expecting an explanation. "Why would they listen to the whims of a besotted woman who is old enough to know better?"
@Sara
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Unfortunately it wasn't poison; the other slaves were good eggs for the most part and didn't deserve to be indiscriminately offed when a much better transaction for all parties involved would be to sell them. Titus reminded himself - and not for the first time - that if he ever went off gallivanting again to the borders of the empire, haughty natives who didn't show signs of being able to learn their new place would have their mouths sewn shut and then be crucified where everyone could see them.
But it was Saturnalia, and it was also too late to have that one slave nailed to a cross without it putting a damper on everybody's mood but his, so in the spirit of the holiday Titus answered with a shrug and a cryptic smile as he set down the last bowl and stepped back. "Nobody's forcing you to eat it." She could starve herself for all he cared, more left for the others. At least Davus looked properly appreciative; he really was a good lad.
"If it's not to your taste help yourself to the rest." It wasn't Zia's critique he was most curious about, anyway: it was Betua's. Out of the corner of his eye he watched the old woman dip a piece of bread into the stew and eat it, though he couldn't quite tell what her expression meant. She seemed surprised and almost pensive as she chewed, but as their eyes met she swallowed quickly and gave Titus a quick smile and nod before turning her attention back to her bowl and peering critically into it. That was a stamp of approval, right...?
@Chevi @Ejder @Sara @Sharpie
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For the fifth time that day Titus had to shoo away Betua's anxious form that kept hovering about the entrance to the kitchen. Yes, it was her territory as much it was his possession, but there was a tradition to uphold. If she found the results of said tradition inedible she was free to go and serve something up on the sly. If Titus had to be honest, though, he thought he and this three helpers were faring quite well and did not warrant such levels of worry. Valeriana had helped pluck a chicken with unfettered, gleeful abandon, tearing out the feathers in small but forceful fistfuls before gathering an amount she deemed sufficient and running off giggling, possibly to disturb her indisposed mother. Publius was surprisingly adapt at peeling fruit and vegetables; in another life he might have made a fine tailor, or perhaps a medic. Still, the boy was just the right amount of both careful and daring with a blade in his hands. And Titus? Well, he had finished plucking the chicken, quartered it - clumsily, yes, but he was no butcher -, taken out the nasty bits and tossed the good ones into a big clay pot where onions, lentils, carrots and chestnuts awaited company. Copious amounts of garum and red wine and a handful of assorted herbs and spices, selected with no concern for how well they would go together but merely for their fragrance, had followed suit and the pot, properly lidded, had been placed in the oven to work its magic and hopefully turn all that food into a passable stew.
At the same time, his eldest hadn't been idle either, and had prepared quite the artfully decorated platter of assorted cheeses and cured meats before moving on to dessert: apples boiled in a mix of red wine and honey with chopped walnuts and more honey on top, and some stuffed dates and preserved plums on the side in case someone didn't fancy apples. Titus felt a surge of parental pride well up inside him: if his attempt at preparing a meal for the slaves failed, Sulpicia would save his honour by making sure they would still have something decent to eat.
The clay pot was smelling like it might be done cooking, and after a moment's deliberation with his son on how they would take it out of the oven without incurring serious burns, Titus spotted two thick and seemingly well-used squares of leather hanging from a hook just by. They served their intended purpose and soon enough the pot was set on a table and uncovered, belching out a great curtain of steam. It smelled like food, which was a start. As he portioned the stew into two big bowls Titus dipped his ran his fingertip along part of the edge of the pot and brought it to his mouth to taste. All right, so maybe he had been too careless with the garum and the gravy was a bit saltier and thicker than intended, but he had had worse. All in all, it was a valiant effort; he was pleased.
Now all that was left was to serve it to the critics. He picked up one of the bowls, Sulpicia the other and Publius the charcuterie platter and the three of them made off into the triclinium, where bread, wine and olives had already been freely made available to the servants. Titus had the feeling it wasn't only just Betua's expectant look that was trained on him, and that made him a little uncomfortable - nobody liked to be judged, after all. But a natural inclination for resting bitch face and years of making intentional use of it meant his expression remained mostly neutral, even as they placed the food on the table and began ladling the stew into individual bowls for the slaves' convenience.
"Dinner is served, my fine ladies and gentlemen. I hope you'll enjoy it."
@Chevi @Ejder @Sara @Sharpie
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I suggest no set posting order since there's a few of us. Also, feel free to NPC Betua and any other slaves!
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As a child Titus had imagined he would grow up to be many things, but actor had never been on the list. Facing the same hostile audience had not become any simpler despite repeated exposure, but he could at least muster a genuine smile at little Luto, who was eyeing the pallium with unabashed curiosity as the group made their way to the main hall. He supposed he should be thankful they had given him decent clothes, but couldn't quite find it in himself to act like it.
For a barbarian, Zia cleaned up nicely when she could be bothered to put in the effort. Still, not all the gold and finery in the world made her any easier to stomach. With his smile slipping dangerously into a scowl before he caught himself he squeezed back even harder, not caring in the least if one of them ended up with amputated fingers due to cut-off blood supply. "When am I ever not?"
He did not have any more time for sarcastic quips, though, as the man of the hour and his thankfully small entourage finally made their appearance. However Titus had pictured the publicanus in his head, he hadn't expected the other man to be so... young, for once - he looked to be around Titus' own age, maybe a couple of years older. Nor did he expect the tax collector to be broad and good-looking in the rough, rugged way provincials often were, although the man's eyes glinted with shrewdness. All in all he resembled a soldier more than a publicanus, in spite of the stubble that darkened his face; not that Titus could blame him, knowing first-hand how difficult it was to come across a skilled barber in this wretched land.
Fortunately the taxman turned out to be more amiable than most soldiers and wasted no time introducing himself in as Sextus Densus, come to collect poll and land taxes on behalf of the Empire and establish mutually beneficial relationships with the local tribes while he was at it. What exactly those entailed remained to be seen, but Titus suspected they included the diversion of some gold to the man's own pockets. Cultellus returned the greeting with accented platitudes of his own and supplied introductions that definitely raised questions already by the way Densus' eyebrows quirked.
Right, this was where it was paramount that they look and act the part of lovebirds, and convincingly too. As Cultellus directed them all towards the big table where the beginnings of a nice little banquet awaited (his best idea all week, really), Titus willed himself to think happy lovey thoughts, settling for a mental image of his favourite prostitute back in Rome when nothing else was forthcoming. At least he was able to produce a knowing smirk as he wrapped his arm round Zia's waist, and turned it into a sassy smile that brought a hint of pink to his cheeks as he shifted his thoughts to the harpy he called wife and how much they she benefited from that crazy herb. Maybe he couldn't play the hopeless romantic that well, but an enthusiastic newlywed who couldn't get enough of his bride might just do instead.
They had barely taken their seats and got their cups filled when Densus' sharp gaze landed on them, layered behind a friendly expression. "I must say I was quite surprised - and pleased, naturally - to make your acquaintance. It is... unusual to come across a couple of import of such different backgrounds," Densus began, making it clear he wouldn't have batted an eye at the average legionary and his local belle, or a camp follower enamoured with a big burly Dacian. To keep himself from snorting Titus took a sip of his wine and gave Zia a not-so-gentle nudge under the table with his foot. Women had a reputation for being flightier in matters of the heart in addition to chattier, so he would let her do the honours of explaining their love story to the publicanus in fine detail.
"Why don't you tell him, dear? You're so much better at this sort of thing than me," he coaxed in a light tone, exchanging a quick look with Zia before hiding behind his cup again lest he burst into a fit of sardonic laughter.
@Sara
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Titus successfully fought the urge to roll his eyes and instead gave Longinus a look full of pity. He had just turned thirty-six, by the gods' favour, so at least while he was still sober he should act like it. "You know, just because you can't stand to spend two minutes in your own company doesn't mean it's the same for everybody." He gestured at an empty seat and then at the servant to fill two cups, and almost immediately corrected himself to add a third one as the familiar figure of Aulus appeared in the dim lighting.
"Thank you, esteemed consul-to-be. This was just posca," he pointed at his forgotten cup with a dismissive wave, "didn't want to get started without you. My greatest consolation is that you're even older and more decrepit - I heard something somewhere about a death mask ?" Or he had read some scrawled graffiti about it, he couldn't quite remember.
Publius completed the quartet and again Titus signalled for another cup to be filled, and within seconds they all had a topped-up goblet of sweet, dry Falernian in front of each of them. And now that they were all in attendance, the good-natured ribbing could begin. Titus took a sip from his cup and aimed at his favourite target. "Is that the newest Greek fashion? You remind me of my body slave," he smirked briefly at Longinus before turning to the two others. "Please tell me I'm not the only one who sees it."
@Sara @Sharpie @Echo
Topics I Participated In
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A Little Thief
Started by Sara ·
Early January, 76AD
Lucius glanced over his shoulder at his daughter, gripping tightly to the hand of her slave, "Keep up." He ordered with the authority of a man speaking to the senate rather than a six year old girl. Gessilla hurried her pace as much as she could, as did the slave and Lucius flicked his head back around to in front of him, eyes scanning the almost-deserted streets. It was barely afternoon but nobody was about, odd. Then again, this high up the Quirinal, there were sparse few shops and eateries - only the domains of the uber-wealthy. It was also bloody miles from anywhere interesting which explained the distinct lack of plebs that usually could be found crowding the streets.
It had been a short walk over from the Viminal where he lived, but it seemed like it had taken hours with his youngest daughter in tow. Gessilla had been adamant that she didn't want any trouble, and that she didn't even like the ornate shell necklace the other little girl had taken from her. Lucius didn't care given it had been a gift from Gessilla's mother - Lucius' ex-wife - and he wasn't going to become embroiled in another argument with the harpy because his daughter had been careless or foolish enough to give away a family gift. But unfortunately for the little girl, whose father he was striding up the street to see, he was now in a foul mood. He'd sent a slave over to the domus of Titus Sulpicius Rufus to claim back the lost shell necklace only for said slave to be turned away by one of Titus' own. Lucius' boy had been clear that the foreign slave in Titus' household (description - tall, scrawny, haughty, definitely not Italian) wouldn't even admit him, and reiterated that whatever the little domina had taken from Lucius' daughter was now the little domina's to keep.
Slaves! Lucius was exasperated. He'd now had to take time out of his day to come all the way over here for what? A bloody, stupid necklace - gifted by one bitch and refused to be returned by another. It was enough to make him want to pull out his hair.
Fortunately for Titus, Lucius was a master at schooling his expression and demeanour into something more polite than he felt as he knocked on the main door of the house and was hastily admitted to the atrium. The benefit of dressing finely and not being a slack-jawed slave boy, he supposed. He squinted in the light as he was admitted; it was a grey, drab day and the light in the domus wasn't much better. He could hear Gessilla fidgeting behind him with her nurse and Lucius cast a glance over his shoulder, raising a brow at her. She stopped immediately and stood still, respectfully. Another slave loomed into view and cast the trio a curious glance. "Salve sir, may I help you?" Lucius quirked his eyebrow again and gave the slave an appraising look. Gods, what idiots did he have in this house? Surely he should have fetched his master the moment he heard a Senator was in attendance?
"Yes." He managed neutrally, "Please fetch your dominus and his youngest daughter. Tell him Lucius Sempronius Atratinus is here to reclaim something that his sweet little thief took from my daughter." He said the latter words with a smile, which was sickly sweet.
TAG: @Liv
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Io Saturnalia
Started by Titus Sulpicius Rufus ·
For the fifth time that day Titus had to shoo away Betua's anxious form that kept hovering about the entrance to the kitchen. Yes, it was her territory as much it was his possession, but there was a tradition to uphold. If she found the results of said tradition inedible she was free to go and serve something up on the sly. If Titus had to be honest, though, he thought he and this three helpers were faring quite well and did not warrant such levels of worry. Valeriana had helped pluck a chicken with unfettered, gleeful abandon, tearing out the feathers in small but forceful fistfuls before gathering an amount she deemed sufficient and running off giggling, possibly to disturb her indisposed mother. Publius was surprisingly adapt at peeling fruit and vegetables; in another life he might have made a fine tailor, or perhaps a medic. Still, the boy was just the right amount of both careful and daring with a blade in his hands. And Titus? Well, he had finished plucking the chicken, quartered it - clumsily, yes, but he was no butcher -, taken out the nasty bits and tossed the good ones into a big clay pot where onions, lentils, carrots and chestnuts awaited company. Copious amounts of garum and red wine and a handful of assorted herbs and spices, selected with no concern for how well they would go together but merely for their fragrance, had followed suit and the pot, properly lidded, had been placed in the oven to work its magic and hopefully turn all that food into a passable stew.
At the same time, his eldest hadn't been idle either, and had prepared quite the artfully decorated platter of assorted cheeses and cured meats before moving on to dessert: apples boiled in a mix of red wine and honey with chopped walnuts and more honey on top, and some stuffed dates and preserved plums on the side in case someone didn't fancy apples. Titus felt a surge of parental pride well up inside him: if his attempt at preparing a meal for the slaves failed, Sulpicia would save his honour by making sure they would still have something decent to eat.
The clay pot was smelling like it might be done cooking, and after a moment's deliberation with his son on how they would take it out of the oven without incurring serious burns, Titus spotted two thick and seemingly well-used squares of leather hanging from a hook just by. They served their intended purpose and soon enough the pot was set on a table and uncovered, belching out a great curtain of steam. It smelled like food, which was a start. As he portioned the stew into two big bowls Titus dipped his ran his fingertip along part of the edge of the pot and brought it to his mouth to taste. All right, so maybe he had been too careless with the garum and the gravy was a bit saltier and thicker than intended, but he had had worse. All in all, it was a valiant effort; he was pleased.
Now all that was left was to serve it to the critics. He picked up one of the bowls, Sulpicia the other and Publius the charcuterie platter and the three of them made off into the triclinium, where bread, wine and olives had already been freely made available to the servants. Titus had the feeling it wasn't only just Betua's expectant look that was trained on him, and that made him a little uncomfortable - nobody liked to be judged, after all. But a natural inclination for resting bitch face and years of making intentional use of it meant his expression remained mostly neutral, even as they placed the food on the table and began ladling the stew into individual bowls for the slaves' convenience.
"Dinner is served, my fine ladies and gentlemen. I hope you'll enjoy it."
@Chevi @Ejder @Sara @Sharpie
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I suggest no set posting order since there's a few of us. Also, feel free to NPC Betua and any other slaves!
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Raise your glass
Started by Titus Sulpicius Rufus ·
6th of October, 75 AD
Given the tragedy brought on by the earthquake only a few months earlier, Titus didn't quite feel right celebrating his birthday with huge festivities or partying from dusk to dawn - besides, this was no milestone year, just the passage of time signalling that he had officially grown older. The previous day - the actual day of - had been spent with family, featuring a relaxed and pleasurable evening with far too much food including Betua's mouthwateringly good placenta cake, and only a tiny hiccough when Valeriana loudly and vehemently expressed how unfair it was that she received no gifts, skilfully ignoring the fact that it wasn't her birthday for that to happen.
Tonight's celebration was simple as well, though less child-friendly. Going out for drinks with friends was also very agreeable, even more so when they had a decent-sized chamber and an own dedicated servant all to themselves. Drinking alone was no fun, though, even when it was Falernian and Caecuban, and Titus busied himself with deciphering the multitude of humorous scrawls on the walls and snacking on bread and olives before the others arrived - his stomach would thank him later.
@Echo @Sara @Sharpie
Feel free to ignore posting order!
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Itera Thomas Coquus
Started by Liv ·
Late July, 75 AD
The problem with boat trips was that they, without exception, were all far too long. The moment Titus stepped aboard a vessel whether big or small, civilian or military, his stomach began to threaten to make its way out of his mouth and quite literally abandon ship and jump overboard. It had not yet succeeded, though it wasn’t for lack of trying. He knew all the tricks in the book and had tried each of them at least once, some to greater success than others. Travel on an empty stomach. Fix your gaze upon a far-off point in the horizon. Close your eyes. Try not to move your head. Press down on the inside of your wrist, approximately in the middle. Press down on the area between the thumb and the index on the back of your hand. Promise Neptune a great many sacrifices. Curse all the gods and threaten to withhold sacrifices.
In the end, what worked best for Titus was lying on his back, eyes covered by his arm so he resisted both Sol’s unforgiving rays and the temptation to open them and look about and make matters worse, and distracting himself by reviewing what was to come. Aenaria had better be all the touts promised and more, or else he would personally drown them all once they were back on the mainland. Thinking objectively on it, they were probably right: a number of quality vineyards that offered wine tasting tours, quaint little towns, pristine beaches and hot springs and therapeutic mud capable of healing tiredness if nothing else. He looked forward to spending a few days there and sampling all those portents; it would give him the fortitude to mentally prepare himself for the journey back.
Fully aware of how childish he looked and just as equally unbothered by it, Titus readjusted his head on Valeria’s lap and repeated the plaintive question he had posed some three-quarters of an hour earlier, though he kept his arm in place as a sun shield. “You spot land yet?” Any similarity to their children's 'are we there yet?' of some days prior was purely and entirely coincidental.
@Joaquin @open-ish
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Truth and dare
Started by Liv ·
15th of July 75 AD
It was hot. Oppressively, suffocatingly so. Hotter still thanks to the weight on his lap and upper body, but Titus didn't mind. Ever since the earthquake, Valeriana refused to go to sleep on her own, her young mind understandably afraid of the ground suddenly opening up again and making people and objects alike fall to the floor and get hurt the moment she closed her eyes. The heat had got the best of her, though, and she dozed peacefully against Titus' chest, her own small one rising and falling in a steady rhythm, head resting on his shoulder as he ran his fingers through her fine blond hair in soothing, repetitive motions.
Tarracina, the halfway point od the journey, was still a few miles away, and Titus found that mental depictions of sandy beaches, lapping waves and a fresh, maritime breeze weren't enough anymore to keep his brain occupied and stave off boredom. Standing up and moving about was unappealing for more than a few reasons, the most important of which was currently mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like 'globuli' before turning quiet again. Titus smiled down at this daughter's sleeping face, comforted that her dreams were populated by sweets rather than disturbing recollections of the chaos that had followed the earthquake.
That left conversation, then. In hushed tones, so as not to wake Valeriana up. He turned his head towards Tranquillus, and to the topic that had been floating about his mind for the last few days. Even in the heat, he could still have some fun. How to broach the subject, then? With a little foreplay to ease the matter in, or straight to business? Tranquillus was a good slave, Titus reasoned. He did not deserve such blunt attacks on his dignity, even if he could withstand them. So it was in a jovial, conversational tone that Titus spoke softly to Tranquillus.
"I never thanked you for making sure everybody was safe in the aftermath of the earthquake. Our young gardener in particular was very appreciative of your support, or so he told me." More like had had it coaxed out of him, but that was irrelevant.
@Chevi
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To Titus Sulpicius Rufus
Started by Atrice ·
Letter dated one day before the earthquake that might postpone plans, delivered by a blonde male slave named Himeros.
To Titus Sulpicius Rufus from Tertius Quinctilius Varus
Greetings,
I hope this letter finds you and your family well and that we may meet soon again. Perhaps either with our families or in another context. I enjoyed the visit from you and your friend Lucius Cassius Longinus regarding my niece. I still have not forgotten our interesting conversations.
I am however writing with a request on behalf of one of my slaves. I am certain you remember Charis, who served you the tisane while you were here. You and your friend discussed one of your slaves, that is also from Britannia and we have discovered, that your slave Nymphias is in fact Charis’ sister. Charis has shown very good behavior lately and finally seems to have adapted to her new life here. Therefore, I have decided to reward her with seeing her sister once more. The two appear not to have seen each other since Britannia. I would like to invite Nymphias to come here, perhaps together with you, if you can find the time. We could become further acquainted and our slaves could spend some time together in my domus.
I hope you will give my idea some thought and look forwards to reading your reply regarding this very interesting matter and progress.
Sincerely, Praetor Tertius Quinctilius Varus
@Liv
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Partners in crime
Started by Liv ·
Thermae Mercuari, Caelemontium, 75 AD
Comfortable as the bathhouse in Titus' domus may be, it did not offer the full range of amenities the great public ones did. For one, there was not enough space, and for two, it would have been a tremendous money drain. So whenever he was in the mood for a more complete experience, the public thermae it was. First a nice workout at the palaestra, followed by the warm, hot and cold rooms and several bouts of mindless small-talk with random patrons in between. The final step in the process was a short stint in the laconicum, where Titus was currently enjoying the dry heat and relishing the rare feeling of having his mind empty of mundane thoughts, or any thoughts at all for that matter.
"Titus!" An unfamiliar voice shouted from behind him, and he turned his head in the off chance he might be the one the other man had called out to. His suspicions were proven wrong, as the man who had presumably shouted was now waving enthusiastically at somebody in the other corner of the room, his flabby belly jiggling at the same frequency as his flabby waving arm. The fat man reminded him of an overly excited dog with its full-body wiggles.
Out of the corner of his eye Titus saw that his neighbour had also turned round and then resumed his earlier position as he had made the same discovery. They really were a dime a dozen; the gods must be amused. "Guess that was neither of us," he chuckled, just loud enough for the other man to hear.
@Beauty
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Coming home
Started by Liv ·
Formiae, late June 75 AD
After close to three days on horseback, Titus would have been lying if he said he didn't fancy a nice long walk to stretch his legs, and maybe even a massage. Attis had kept pace surprisingly well and without much complaining, or perhaps he had complained but Titus was riding too far ahead to hear it. His shoddy hearing helped with that, too - blessings in disguise, such were the gods' mysterious ways.
The villa in Formiae was very nicely kept, and not a thing seemed to be out of its proper place - testament that the master did not live there full time, as its current state would have been impossible to maintain had that been the case. The slaves, on the other hand, seemed displeased that yet more visitors had come to disturb their existence with even more needs to be attended to.
Ignoring the doorkeeper's repeated excuses that his dominus was unavailable, Titus gave the man a look that could have made a legionary wet himself and brushed him aside to walk past, not bothering to wait for his friend's body slave to explain the situation to the doorkeeper. Attis could stay behind and elucidate the other slave or he could follow and help find his master quicker.
"Longinus!" he called out as he made his way to the atrium, ignoring the scandalised glances some slaves shot him. Good thing most villas had a very similar layout. "I'm here to return Attis to you, I can't stand him anymore!" And find out what in Jupiter's name has got into you.
@Sharpie @Sara
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Impulse purchase
Started by Chevi ·
The end of 74CE
It was strange to be in the domus without the dominus there. It was not Tranquillus' natural state to be alone in the household. He would have followed his master like a shadow to his visit to a friend's house, except Titus had another job for him to do. This morning, Tranquillus had to accompany Sulpicia Flacca for a visit to a relative's home. She was too young to wander Rome unescorted, and guards or a female body slave alone were not good enough company for a girl of noble birth. So, believing that he could manage fully well without a body slave for his visit to Longinus, the head of the household ordered Tranquillus to escort his daughter instead. The tutor would not have been much help in an altercation, but he was tall and stern enough to look the part.
The visit was shorter than expected, as the relative was not feeling too well. Tranquillus and the young mistress returned home by lunchtime, and since the dominus was still away, there was not much to do for the body slave. He sat and read, organized things, finished some errands that needed finishing, and felt somewhat awkward with the unexpected afternoon off. Tranquiulls liked to plan his days off ahead of time. How inconvenient.
When Titus finally arrived home, with a new acquisition in tow, the look on his body slave's face was not unlike that of a household dog perking up for his master's return.
@Liv @Ejder
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Boys Night
Started by Sara ·
Nones of May 75AD
Longinus sat drumming his fingers against the rim of his wine cup, occasionally glancing at the door. What he enjoyed most, of course, about the Poppina Via Lata was the two-building scheme. The night would start here, in the building reserved for Rome's upper echelons before descending into the depravity with the plebs and the slaves next door. He took a sip and resumed his drumming, waiting for both Titus and Aulus, nerves eating into the pit of his stomach. Judging by the surprised reaction in their letters neither of them were none the wiser as to the true (at least initial) motivation behind the wedding which was a relief.
He'd carefully considered what he'd say and it largely centred on; not being sixteen anymore so knowing what he wanted; that he likes and admires Sestia; he's not getting much younger and needs a son, and well...it is him. Longinus was certainly never a man that could be considered entirely conventional. He did hope to brush the whole 'permission from her father' under the rug as much as possible, but his friends were astute men and would likely ask. He just hoped he'd come up with something convincing on the spot to explain it, because so far his mind was coming up decidedly empty.
His attention was caught by a shadow blocking his path and he glanced up from his thoughts to the face of his friend. A wide, beaming smile crossed his face as he embraced the man.
TAG: @Sharpie @Liv
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