Gil

Gaius saw the gesture and when the other youth did not reply, other than to exit the stall, he hazarded a guess that here was a person who could not, instead of would not, speak. He had turned his head to see where the other boy was off to. But he did not go far - just to the end of the small stable and then back, apple in his hand, which he then offered to Gaius. Gaius took it with a grin, of course. "Thanks! Maybe this will do the trick!" he exclaimed glibly. He was not a Roman who stood on ceremony and was often far less dignified than his parents would have wanted him to be. Thus he had no compunction about maintaining strict lines of demarcation between himself and those of lower classes - usually. Especially if such a person held the promise of some entertaining activity. At this point, the other boy, who he presumed was a slave, didn't necessarily offer that potential. But he had seemed helpful in Gaius' desire to befriend the beautiful horse, so that, at least, was a start.

"Here you go boy," he crooned in an appropriately cajoling tone, as he extended his hand with the apple on his palm. The horse's attention was upon him, and the fruit, as she looked at both, a bit wide eyed - curious but wary. Her nose extended. It seemed she would take the treat. But then she whooshed and startled a bit and only knocked it off his hand as she backed up, as if he had offered her a snake. She whickered and tossed her head and twisted in the stall, restless.

Unfazed, Gaius opined, "Not in the mood, hm?" At this point he could see, his assumption that the horse was male was incorrect. So he added, "...girl." Still smiling he said to the slave, "Typical woman. Bring them water and they'll want wine and be cross with you until you do their bidding." He laughed.

@Chevi

The youngster saw the expression on his grandfather's face. The two had always been close, and Gaius could tell this subject now pained the old man to speak of, and he did not press further with wanting to hear details of his mother's youthful follies. He smiled in response to the conspiratorial whisper, although he did not really enjoy thinking about his parents being "smitten" with one another. Like most children, that aspect of his parents as being flesh and blood people like any others was something he preferred not to acknowledge.

"I suppose it was all for the best. I wouldn't want a dancing girl for a mother," he teased. "Speaking of which, we should probably head home, don't you think? Or that almost dancer is going to have our heads on her platter for the feast!"

@Gothic

Titus chuckled at Paulus' observation. "They make for a good story, I guess. Whether it be true or not." He then nodded at the man's sensible suggestion. He drained off what was in his cup, and felt he should be getting back to his wife. She fretted a lot these days, understandably. That was one reason he sought some peace outside his home. But he was a dutiful husband, and very much cherished Caesennia, who was a good woman, an excellent mother, and an attentive wife. So he would go back and sit with her and hold her hand and listen to her small complaints, and spend time with their precious little girl too.

"I will do so. You seem to have a good head on your shoulders Faventinus. I look forward to doing business with you in a month or two." Titus rose and clapped the man lightly on the shoulder in a camaraderly way. He pointed at the jug. "The rest is for you. Think of me with every sip."

He laughed at his own joke, then departed, paying for the wine on his way out.

@Sharpie

Calvunus smirked, even as his hand closed around the muscle of Marcus' bum, giving it a squeeze. "Mmm, you're right. I love it when you do me dirty." He snickered. If there came a change to his sometime lover's look, Calvunus either didn't notice it or chose to ignore it.

He kissed Marcus again, hard and lingering, then pulled his lips away, enough to murmur, "We'd better get out of this closet, before someone comes looking for a broom." He grinned. "Besides, I think there was still some wine left. And a dice game to finish..."

@Gothic

She did indeed notice the finger, subtle as it was, just before her father cleared his throat. It was funny how such a simple everyday sound could hold so much meaning, to one who had spent a lifetime around the man. Caius could never, ever be called 'understated'. But in such ways, he did communicate his wishes, at least to his two daughters, and no doubt before that, to his wife. They all knew him that well, that a glance, a look, a cough, a scratch of the head would signal what he expected of them, just as he too was canny enough to have observed his offspring and know practically what they were thinking. Sometimes, it was very inconvenient, for them.

Caia certainly got "the message", and at this point in her life, she wouldn't have disagreed with her dad. Women needed to be modest, and careful. Men would take what they could, if allowed. A good man would not act that way. He would wait and ask permission - from Caius - if he wished to show attention to one of his daughters. Good thing for Caia she didn't have to worry about such things. No man would be interested in her, except for those lecherous liasons which could only lead to loss of her reputation. She might be ugly and cursed, but at least she was virtuous, in many ways. If she was not fated to make some good man a good wife, and be a mother to his children, then she could be a good daughter, and a helpmate to her father.

Yet she was not trying to interact with this customer, no more than waiting on him as she usually would do, as needed. It was hardly her fault that he was good looking. Sometimes it seemed her father was a bit quick to jump in and be protective, or...vigilant.

Still she did as expected, and moved away from the counter, but perhaps not in the direction her father might have wished her to. She stepped to the gap where those behind the counter could step out into the 'seating' area, and she moved right on through. Sometimes fathers just had to be ignored, in favor of cats. She stepped over, close to Teutus' stool, and she crouched down, intending to make a grab for Felis. The cat, of course, wanted to keep playing hard to get - probably because of the pigeon. She made her Tch, tch sound again, and was rewarded with a slight warning growl (food!) and then a brownish-black streak rushing out from under the stool. With as much of the pigeon carcass as he could hold and still run clamped between his teeth, Felis ran off to hide somewhere quiet.

Disappointed, and knowing that her father would probably be a little grumpy about the thieving cat and a daughter who didn't always do everything he wanted her to, she stood back up, hands on hips, frowning in the direction in which the cat had left. Then her hands dropped to her sides and she murmured, "My apologies for disturbing you, sir," to the handsome customer, before she turned and went back inside, to continue chopping leeks.

@Gothic

@Sharpie

 

Phaedo was surprised by the applause, and delighted! He smiled brightly, not even thinking that any around them might hear the sound and wonder. He was so infused with the emotions that reading his work out loud had catalyzed, all over again, that he had no thought that Ario mocked him. He sat again on the pallet, drawing his knees to his chest, the papyrus dangling from his hand. "You should try, domine," he encouraged, bolstered by what appeared to be his own "success" at writing love poems. "You might be surprised...what comes out on to the paper, once your words start to flow."

He looked at the older man adoringly, for what artists doesn't adore their fans? In the moment, he felt what he thought was a very real connection with the man.

But when Ario spoke of others, Phaedo's bright smiled dimmed just a bit, and became more rueful. "Thank you for your kind words, but...I doubt anyone but you will ever hear it, or read it." He jiggled the paper a bit, and bit on his lip. "You are the first I ever thought to share it with. Men like yourself, domine...well...I just don't encounter them very often." He chuckled dryly. "Well...never, in fact."

@Kit

The sudden appearance of the other boy was surprising, but not unwelcome. Gaius did not feel awkward, because he'd been talking to a horse. He very rarely felt awkward or embarrassed about anything. In fact, he smiled, correctly assessing that this boy was probably a slave. Which didn't stop him from engaging him in a chat - or trying to, anyway.

"Hello," he said, looking at the slave.  "Are you the one that cares for this horse? He's a beauty!"" From where he was standing, Gaius could not see the pertinent parts of the animal to clue him in to the fact that she was a mare. "What's his name?"

The mare had of course noticed Gaius as well. Perhaps whatever was making her feel off had her not quite so pleased to have a visitor. Gaius had turned his gaze back onto the mare and had just raised his hand, slowly, to stroke her nose, when she shook her head and blew out through her nostrils. It only made him laugh, his eyes going to the slave again. "I should have brought an apple!"

@Chevi

Calvunus was ready to piss right there, his leg and groin area were in so much pain. But he allowed Helios - good old Helios! - to help him outside. It was a true conflict, which he needed more - to pee or to drink something. In the end, urinating won out. He felt a flood of relief as he flooded the side of the wall of the building behind the Venus. When he was done, he already felt much better. He turned and leaned his back against the same wall, to ready himself for the painful shambling to get back inside. So he could answer Helios' question.

"Fuck, no. Don't send me home. My wife will be all up my ass about this. She doesn't need to know. Not yet, anyway. I'll just kip here, for a day or two." The irritated tone in his voice softened as he managed to grin at Helios. "You'll take care of me, won't you?" He raised a hand to play with the slightly bedraggled golden hair. "You did a fine job of it last night. Sorry to be a pain in your ass." Then he chuckled. "At least I gave you some pleasure there - before everything went to hell."

@Atrice

Persephone had had quite enough. She saw now that the boy was just that - a boy still! In that case, she had no use for him - or so her wounded pride told her. She stepped back, far enough to let him move. "Fine! Go then! I'm sure you'll be puking along the way. You should learn - little boys shouldn't drink more than they can handle!" It was all said in a hushed, harsh tone. She had crossed her arms over her chest and was practically tapping her toe in impatience. Clearly, she was done with them, her night ruined in all ways.

Phaedo, though, heaved a sigh of great relief! Just as soon as Lexus had mumbled his refusal, he had stepped closer to his young friend. And when the girl stepped back, Phaedo reached for Lexus' arm, tugging at it. "Yes, we should go." He made no pretense of good manners. The girl was a slave, like himself, and she obviously did not care at all about her poor mistress. He owed her no apologies, or good byes even, and neither did Lexus!

They moved to the door and Phaedo opened it a crack, peering out. The coast seemed clear. Without letting go of his friend, he took Lexus by the hand and led him to the back gate. They slipped through and he did not stop walking. Not until they were well away from the home did his pace slow. Even if Lexus was a little worse for the wine he'd had, Phaedo would support him - but he had no intentions of stopping, until he got Lexus home.

@Atrice

Calvunus frowned a bit, looking truly perplexed. "Don't you just stick your cock in between the thighs? I always wondered how a man could find any real satisfaction in that. As a way to get started, yeah...But in the end, don't you ever just want to...shove it in?" He gestured with two fingers and those of his other hand rolled into a cylindrical position.

He was nothing if not blunt (and unrefined and crass and ill mannered).

@Chevi

Phaedo had gone quiet. It was true - recalling the sight of what had happened, in the arena, a short while ago, it made him quite queasy. It was different from an accident, like the child who'd been kicked by a horse. That was bad luck. The gladiator matches, that was...planned brutality. He couldn't understand how anyone would want to see such gore, to find it...entertaining...or arousing! He imagined attending to soldiers would be almost as bad. But at least the sole impetus for rending flesh and opening up a man's insides was not so the crowds would cheer with enthusiasm. At least nominally, war served a more...pragmatic...purpose.

@Chevi

Titus acknowledged the good wishes with a nod, whether he truly believed in any gods or not. He was undecided on that point. But he said, ”Yes, let us hope.” He did not finish with, “for a son,” though that was his heart’s desire. Like most soldiers, he was possessed of a bit of superstition. He didn’t want to ‘tempt fate’ to be a fickle bitch and hand him another daughter.

He took a sip of the mediocre wine and suggested, ”Tell me where you are located, and when the child arrives, and we are set to move for the summer into a villa, I’ll send someone around and you can come speak to my wife.” The man seemed pleasant enough, and Titus thought that he could send some business Faventinus’ way. He was sure the man was neither more honest nor less, when it came to such dealers.

”I have quite a lot of items I’ve brought back from many campaigns. Perhaps you could also have a look at those, and tell me what you think they’re worth. I’m sure I don’t need to keep all of it. Maybe you’d be interested in a piece or two.”

 

@Sharpie

Titus' eyes roamed over the various persons that the dealer pointed out. He wasn't really in need of slaves at the moment. His thoughts were really elsewhere. Octavius seemed a bit more interested, talking with the dealer, and then apparently taking the man up on his suggestion of a private viewing, at home. He mentioned some of the things he would require in anyone he purchased, and Titus thought the list sensible. "I'd think that might work best," he chimed in, agreeing with his cousin. "A viewing at your home, though, not mine, cousin. I'm afraid my wife is already a bit fractious. I don't think she'd be in the mood to have a bunch of slaves trooping in and out."

He'd leave Octavius and the dealer to work out the details. His mind was on that short sojourn, into the hills of Campania - the earthquake, the men he'd spoken to, the two boys now left fatherless. He wondered...

His eyes drifted back to Rufus, who stood as correctly as a slave should. That was Rufus all over - well mannered and respectful to a fault. Titus had no complaint of the young slave. None whatsoever. And he'd said as much to Gaius. He'd say it again to Octavius, should his cousin be giving any thought to buying the red head.

@Sharpie

@Sarah

@Gothic

You got it! I would ask that you run your idea for her past Gothy just to make sure everything is a go (once you have something specific in mind).

Thank you so much!

 

Appius A. L. Albinus Ursus

54 | 3 February 30 CE | Freedman | Doctores secutorum | Bisexual | Wanted | Anthony Varrecchia

 

 

Personality.

If limited to “three words to describe yourself”, Tamm might choose “strong, long (of both wind and cock) and hardly ever wrong.” More accurately, he might best be so succinctly summed up as “gruff, rough, and tough.” He is not fancified or refined in any way, shape or form, and seldom minces word or hesitates to tell you what he thinks. You could easily call him crass, or coarse, and not be far off the mark, especially when it comes to his sense of humor. He calls it like he sees it, and knows nothing of tact.

 

His career, completely tied to and orbiting around the brutality of the arena, has certainly made him very tough. He’s definitely a survivor. This of course spills over into the rest of his life. He is very dominant, authoritative, and can be a bit of a bully, because by now, thirty years a trainer, he’s used to being in charge and used to being obeyed. He walks, talks, speaks and moves with self-assurance, which can be quite attractive, in some ways. But confidence in his own skills has make him cocky, even a little egotistical, and proud. Immensely competitive, he can be belligerent, and confrontational, when he, or his fighters, lose, or are insulted in some way.

 

Balanced against this brashness, he is a good friend, and a good mentor. He’s quite sociable, quick to smile, and laugh, and those he likes can always depend on him to lend a hand, lend an ear, or lend a broad back, when needed.

 

Of course, given his “profession”, Tamm displays a natural talent for physicality and kinesics, which he has honed to near perfection over the past 40 years. As a fighter, and a trainer of fighters, he has a tendency to go with his gut more than his intellect, which sometimes backfires on him. He’s not a cerebral person at all. But he has good instincts.

 

Appearance

Tamm did not get his nickname – Ursus – for nothing! He does look very much like a bear. He is tall, broad and muscular, and covered with a near pelt of body hair. His body has thickened over the years, but he is still almost all muscle. The flab sort of blends in, around his hips and butt and chest. He is still very much a burly man, and, stripped, can hold his own with many a younger man. His hair is almost all white now, and usually he sports a beard. He’s not a Roman so he prefers not to be mistaken for one. Sharp brown eyes keep a close watch on the world, from under shaggy brows that are still, oddly dark. His mustache and the beard around his mouth are also a steely grey. His 'European caucasian' complexion is quite darkened by 50 plus years of exposure to the  sun.

His demeanor is that befitting a man who survived the arena and has trained men to fight well and die well. He walks without fear and speaks without concern for good manners and civility, except he shows an adequate amount of respect to those who are his superiors. He is jovial, but only to a point, and he can become quite ferocious, when provoked (which might not take much). He dresses simply, because he is not rich, nor will he ever be.

 

Family

Father: Verrax (status unknown; Tamm has not seen him in almost 40 years)

Mother: Selba (same)

Siblings: He had 4 brothers and 2 sisters, once upon a time. Like his parents, he hasn't seen them since he was 15 and he has no idea if they be dead or alive

Spouse: n/a

Children: probably a few littered here and there about Rome

Extended family: n/a - unless you count the men of the Ludus

Other: His long ago owner, from whom he had his freedom and was given his name: Appius A.L. Albinus - who died some years back of old age

 

History

Tamm (the name given to him by his parents) was born one of the Treveri, a Belgic tribe that inhabited the lower valley of the Moselle River. Their territories lay in the southern fringes of the Ardennes forest, in modern day Luxembourg, southeast Belgium and western Germany. Of mixed Gallic-Germanic origins, they spoke a Celtic language. The Treveri had an on-again, off-again relationship with the Romans. Having already been subdued, during the Gallic Wars they provided excellent cavalry to Julius Caesar’s auxiliaries. However they later revolted, and then still later turned back to support of the Romans.

 

It took a while, but by the time Tamm was born, though, they were one of the Gallic tribes that had undergone the greatest cultural change since conquest. Having adopted Mediterranean cuisine, clothing and decorative arts, their rural settlements spread across the Moselle Valley. The Treveri had long engaged in trade with lands as far away as Greece, and their graves contained pottery, glassware, jewelry, and even scissors, crafted in faraway places. In addition to their predominantly agricultural life style, they also “mined” iron ore deposits. The name itself – Treveri -  has been interpreted as meaning ferryman, for they held the crossing of the Moselle, and worshipped a goddess of the ford, Ritona.

 

Thus Tamm was not born a wild savage, running in animals skins through ancient forests, hunting with a crude spear, barbaric and totally uncivilized. In fact, his family were farmers, as were most of their neighbors, with the occasional merchants or traders among them, including the Romans they lived side by side with. His family lived in a farming village not too far distant from Colonia Augustus Trevororum (modern day Trier) capital of the Roman province of Belgica. It was a tolerably peaceful life, in the decade and a half he slept under the same roof as his parents and brothers and sisters (20 CE to 35 CE). The goings on in the capital city of the Empire seemed far away indeed. But the Roman presence and influence was strongly felt. His family were freemen, Peregrini in the Latin tongue. They were basically free to live as they chose, as long as they broke no Roman laws nor transgressed against the Roman rule.

 

Unfortunately for Tamm, he quite stupidly chose to violate this stricture. When he was fifteen, and desiring to bed and wed a girl he fancied, he entered into a bitter rivalry with another youth his age. They took to challenging one another to feats of ever increasing daring. When it came to stealing a neighbor’s horse – just for a joy ride really, he intended to bring it back – he got caught.

 

The Romans possibly would have crucified him, for being a horse thief. But already, he showed signs of becoming the big, beefy man that he is today. Deciding he might put on a good show in the arena, before he died some violent, horrible death, they shipped him off to Durocortorum, (modern day Reims) in what is now north-east France. It was a sizeable city, not too far away, and the capital of Gallia Belgica. It boasted a large and busy arena, and he was scheduled to die, as one of the damnati ad ludum. A condemned criminal, he’d be hacked to death by someone who was trained to kill. He upset the apple cart, though, and somehow not only managed to survive, but also killed his opponent, with the gladiator's own sword.

Having displayed this level of prowess, untrained, Tamm was chosen to be assessed to see if he had the potential to become an actual gladiator. He was sent to a ludus outside of the city and passed his examination by the trainers and the physicians there. After some preliminary trials, it was decided that his size and strength made him a good candidate to train to become a secutor - a chaser - symbolizing Vulcan, because fire always pursues. Secutores fought with a sword, wearing a greave on one arm and one leg, and carrying a heavy shield, the scutum. They were trained to fight against Retiarii - those who fought with a trident and net. Therefore, Tamm would wear a round, unadorned helmet with two small eye holes, to thwart both the ensnaring net and the sharp tines of the trident. He trained vigorously, being kept pretty much as if he was a criminal still, kept under lock and key in the ludus. He was fed a hearty diet of grain and vegetables, no meat, and he continued to grow into manhood, fulfilling his earlier promise of being a big, burly guy. His size, the luxurious body hair that covered his arms, chest and back, and his fighting style earned him the nickname Ursus. He did well, and eventually his owner sold him to a Roman who brought him to Rome, to fight in the fabled arena.

It was here, eventually, that he had a dramatic and life changing match with a retiarius who went by the name of Ario. It was a long, drawn out affair that had both men bleeding from a variety of wounds before finally he was netted. He faced down a possible death. But most fortunately, he was instead granted reprieve and then - freedom! His skill had finally won him that which most enslaved men only dream of.

Yet here he was, in a city which he knew very little about, having been locked away in the Ludus Gallicus for years. He was no real Roman, and his options for employment were limited. So he did what many men in his situation do - he became a trainer, of secutores, of course. It was not surprising, either, that he became good friends with the man who had held his very life in his hands, for those few, long moments in the arena - Ario - who had also been freed on the same day as himself, and for the same reason. It wasn't instantaneous - Tamm was a proud young man and didn't take lightly to being bested. But he could appreciate skill when he encountered it and, eventually, the two grew quite close.

That was years ago, and since that time, Tamm - whose name upon being freed reflected that of his owner, and his Roman nickname - has spent his life primarily within the often insular world of the gladiators. He has freedom to come and go as he pleases, though, and he makes good use of that time, quite enjoying carousing in the taverns and chasing after pretty faces and comely bodies. It's a life that never seemed to lend itself to marriage, or raising children. But it suits him well. He has maintained his friendship with Ario, and others he has met through the years via the ludii. He enjoys training up the youngsters, and tries not to mourn too much for the ones he loses along the way, out on the sand. He is old enough to be considered a bit long in the tooth, by the standards of the day. But he is still hale and hearty and quite fit, and a formidable man to face down, even without a gladius in his hand.

 

 

Gil | GMT-5 | PM/DM

April, 74 CE

The villa of Alucio Valens Lurio

Gaius poked his head inside the barn. It smelled of cut, dried grasses and dust, horse dung and sweat, and leather. It wasn’t unpleasant – no more so than the smells in the city, and quite a bit better than some of the more odiferous parts of Rome. He stepped inside, curious and always a one to cross boundaries, even well marked ones, which this wasn’t…exactly. He’d come with his father – his biological father, not his adopted father (who was actually his grandfather) to deliver something to the owner of the villa, or speak to the man or…something. It was business related, and as such, he should have been paying more attention, when everyone was talking about it earlier that morning. But he was more interested in the chance to take a little day trip, outside the city. That’s why he asked to come along with his dad. To see something new. To go somewhere he hadn’t been before. It was definitely not because he had any interest in whatever business related matter was going down. Learning how to run a business was…boring. Totally not fun. And Gaius was all about trying to have some fun. So he'd decided to take a look around, after he and his father had gone on into the villa to speak to Lurio, and whatever it was they were talking about had dragged on and on. Gaius had made an excuse - that he needed to take a whiz - and wandered off, maybe a bit further than relieving himself actually required. This was how he had found himself outside, at the stable.

 

His eyes adjusted to the dimmer interior, as he took another step further inside. It was quiet, save for the sounds of horses. He could not see either but he noted the closed stall doors, and as he moved towards them, the horsey smell got stronger, and the soft noises of a tail swishing, a hoof shifting, jaws moving as they ground on some hay were notable. He was used to being around horses. He even knew how to ride, and enjoyed it. It was part of his education, so to speak – part of being raised a male child in a well off equites family. He was not bound for the military. But his family still had made sure he was taught to ride. Being wealthy, the day to day care of a horse wasn’t a skill he needed to know, however. But he liked horses. He thought they were beautiful, and riding was fun.

 

Of course. He was all about the fun.

 

He came to a stop in front of the closer stall, peering inside. The interior of the stall was dimmer still, but there was light enough to see the animal within. He smiled, and called in a soft voice, ”Hey there. Hey. Look at you. You’re beautiful. What’s your name, huh?”

 

His hands lifted to wrap slender fingers around the wooden slats of the door, as he pressed his face up against them.

Some came forward, others pulled back. Many were just onlookers, and Titus spotted a few familiar faces, besides that of the young princess. Flavia Juliana, his cousin, and her young step-daughter, Caecina Tusca - neither of them seemed to welcome an approach. He assumed the young woman was not married yet. Being away for the better part of fifteen years meant that sometimes some news of what was going on within his huge extended family fell through some crack or other. Jullus' daughter was married and was by no means too old to bear more children. But it was a task fraught with dangers and she was already a mother - was it two or three now? He tried to recall as he loped past them, with a solemn smile but nothing more.

Scipio and his wife, he saw, the man a contemporary of his cousin Octavius and raised for some part by his aunt Annthea, Octavius' mother. He was fairly sure that Apius had children, yes...several, he thought. He saw the couple speaking with one another but he wouldn't run up and smack Apius' wife with the goatskin tether unless he knew for sure - unless she put her hand out for him to strike it. He hesitated.

But then there was one, a woman not of extremely tender years, as told by her hands, which were stained with ink. Hands that were definitely extended towards him, desirous of the blessing the gods could bestow. He ran up and struck with accuracy, and gentleness, no need to be harsh. The slimy skin hit hers, and Titus was already moving on. The women's head was bowed, her face turned aside. It wasn't for him to poke into her affairs. His task was only to act as a conduit, in some bizarre way, for the gift of fertility, nothing more.

@Anna

@Brian

@Echo

@Gothic

 

Caia did not jump or even flinch, when her father's extremely loud voice bellowed practically right in her ear. She was used to it. Twenty years used to it, and she knew it was a voice that brought in business. So she would hardly be critical of that. She loved her dad very much, for all his idiosyncrasies. Yelling at people was just one such. They were all accustomed to that foghorn bawling out, many times a day - almost to the point where she, her sister, and the slaves took little notice of it.

Maybe that was one reason he kept on yelling all the time - hoping his helpers would finally listen to him.

She nodded her head to the request for wine, and put her hand out for the coins. That would save her father having to wipe whatever food related residue might be on his huge paw before taking it. Sliding it into a little cloth pouch that hung from the belt about her waist, she let here gaze come up momentarily to the customer's. Up to this point she had avoided making eye contact or looking directly at him. It was a lifelong practice. For a moment, she had the impression she'd seen this man before, and recently. She couldn't quite place his face though, and she let her gaze rest there no more than the merest fraction of a second. He was handsome. That made such things worse.

She slid away, and went to pour out a beaker of wine. It was of course not of the finest quality. But it was not horrible either. It took no more than half a minute, and she was back, setting it before him, her eyes down. Usually if her father was chatting up a customer, she'd hardly be listening. There was much to do about the food stall, and she had been taught to be productive, not idle. But she was now wondering where the cat had got to, as he had moved from the end of the counter. She craned her neck about a bit, standing up on her toes, trying to catch a glimpse of him, and in so doing, inadvertently once more wound up staring into the eyes of the customer.

@Gothic

@Sharpie

 

He did wake, with a horrible need to relieve himself. Still groggy from drink, he stirred, intending to rise, forgetting what had happened. The slight movement made him gasp, and his eyes popped open. It all came flooding back, and the pain in his leg was no uncertain reminder that it would be a while before he'd move without pain. But he was tough, and stupid, so he determined to sit up. He really needed to urinate and his brain was not functioning much beyond that. Sitting upright made him curse out loud, and grit his teeth against further vocalizations of distress. Tendrils of light were creeping in around the door beyond. Daybreak was begun, though just barely. It was enough for him to see he was half naked - his tunic pushed up around his waist, blood dried into a crust around the lower part of it. And below that, he was all bandaged up, his leg stretched before him like a useless great sausage. He had some vague recollection of something the medicus had said, about his balls. Were they part of the injuries? He thought wildly for a second, before realizing, no. If that fucking dog had bitten into his scrotum, the pain would be a thousand times worse.

He tried to move again and streaks of acute agony shot through his groin, down his leg and up into his lower torso. He could see that someone was beside him, on the floor. The glint of dull gold in the dim light gave it away.

"Helios?" he said in a voice dry as dust. "Gods...I need to take a piss..."

@Atrice

OOC Name: Gil

Character Name: Phaedo
Link to active thread: You'd Not Regret Chafing Your Lips With [My] Reed

Character Name: Marcus Calvunus
Link to active thread: Shake A Leg

Character Name: Titus Flavius Alexander
Link to active thread: Lupercalia Begins

Character Name: Gaius Petronius Aquilius Urianus
Link to active thread: Rainbow Unicorns

Character Name: Caia Lupa
Link to active thread: They Don't Know Anything

 

Phaedo in turn rose from the pallet, and stood before his "guest." He still held the papyrus, but he did not look at it. Perhaps it was more for reassurance. He nodded. "Yes, domine." He looked down at Ario uncertainly, but then his eyes focused on a spot perhaps a a foot or so above the man's head, as if he was speaking to an actual audience, or more than just one. He tried to relax, both his body and his voice, and he cleared his throat and began.

Oh dear. It was epic in length and content. All those scribblings, on that uneven surface? That was his poem! And he could recite it perfectly without once glancing at the paper - not from memory, but from the heart. It meandered and went astray, here and there. The meter was far from perfect. It thundered and it weeped and it gamboled about. It needed tightening. The words were too...full...too achingly overflowing with the thoughts of a youth who longed for something having no real idea what it was he was after. A listener might have smirked, or chuckled, or rolled their eyes, at his silly attempt to do what so many had done before him, successfully or not. A listener with a kind heart might have seen it, and perhaps recognized it, for what it was, and what they themselves had felt, back then, on the cusp of reality settling in upon them like a muffling cape - opening the eyes yet sealing off the heart.

Finally, Phaedo galloped to an awkward, hasty finish. This was due in part to the fact that it was here in his ballad he had run out of room on his hoarded sheet. Hesitantly, his eyes dropped, to meet the sole patron of his performance, and he sucked in a breath, waiting to hear the critique.

@Kit

Gaius' eyes widened in real surprise. "A dancing girl??? In a taberna?? My mom??"

Now that was something Gaius would never in a million years have imagined. His mom was so full of rectitude, so proper, so....like a mom! He hooted in laughter.

"I can't believe it! How did you stop her from doing that? Lock her in the house?" It was a joke. But he knew his mom could be as stubborn as a mule, when she set her mind on something. Gaius was loving this - hearing about his mom being unruly. But he was wise enough to know, he better never let this slip, or his grandfather would be in big trouble.

@Gothic

Hopefully, the sounds of falling items clattering on the floor wouldn't call anyone's attention to the tiny room. If anyone heard it, maybe they'd just put it down to rats. In any case, Calvunus paid it no heed whatsoever. He was far too distracted by the flood of sensations rushing through his body. His hands, his lips, his cock - they were all receiving such arousing stimulation, and he only wanted more. This was how it always went with Marcus. One minute his friend would be fussing at him; the next they be going at it like two oversexed bulls. And this time it would be no different. The only hang up was that, sometimes, they would tussle a bit about who would take the dominant role. But it was all part of the foreplay. In truth, Calvunus never really minded being topped - Roman ideals of masculinity be damned!

In the end, they wound up as they always did, back to chest, sweat sheened, heaving in lungfuls of much needed air. Calvunus twisted so they were face to face, and his lips found Marcus'. He kissed him and then murmured, "This really isn't fair you know. We never even finished the game. You cheated."

@Gothic

As the woman finally left them, Calvunus bestowing one more pat to her bum, he turned a grinning face to Phaedo and Theodorus. "Don't go throwing up all over the place, lad. If you need to hurl, go do it outside!" he commanded, catching sight of that blanched countenance. To Theodorus he said, "If you ever fancy a trip to the Venus, drop by and ask for me. First one'll be on the house." He chuckled. "No matter how you like it. I know how you Greeks are." He laughed, thinking himself funny. But his offer was made out of generosity - it was easy enough to give away what wasn't his to give - and it was also self-serving. If he really could buddy up with the man, he was convinced this would really boost his gambling wins. And now wouldn't that piss Marcus off? Which would just be the icing on the cake!

As Calvunus' attention was momentarily diverted by the woman, Phaedo listened with courtesy to the medicus, and he smiled. "My first master was a Greek. He was from Thebes. That's why he loved the theater so much." His voice lowered a little, and he gave a little grin. "He always said the Greek playwrights were a thousand times more clever than the Romans. Although he did quite fancy Plautus." Phaedo smirked a little conspiratorially. Then he looked at Theodorus with a bit less shyness. "Did you find serving in the military...helpful? I would imagine the wounds must be very similar to those you see here at the games." He shuddered a bit, and closed his eyes for a moment, as he remembered...all that blood!