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Sarah last won the day on February 28

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  1. Sarah ~ staying ~ keeping: Aeneas, Tiberius Claudius Sabuchius, Spurius Antius Claudus, Alaricus Aetius Stilicho dropping: none
  2. He'd been sent to the markets again. It was one of Corinthia's latest whims, and he wasn't certain whether she was daring him to try to escape, or enjoying having someone she could send who wasn't answerable to her mother, or just liked ordering him around. Quite probably a combination of the three. Not that Aeneas minded, it got him out of the house in a way that didn't involve the ludus, and allowed him to see more of Rome. And more of the Romans, who were a more complicated people than the harsh regime they had at first seemed. The markets were a place where everyone could mingle, and he passed all types from well-dressed Roman Senatores to simply garbed slaves. The latter were often of greater interest to him than the former, being his own 'social class' and therefor potential friends and also those he might learn from. He didn't dawdle though, he had his own mission on which he'd been sent, and nothing had seemed particularly worth pausing over. At least, that was until he heard a voice speak a familiar tongue, a variant of his own that he knew from his trading journeys. The dialect of the Parisii if he was any judge, neighbours of the Brigantes, with whom he'd been trading when the Romans attacked. It had been spoken by a young woman, about his own age, walking away from the plant merchant's stall with annoyance in her step, and his blue gaze followed her movements. Another slave, to judge by her dress, though owned by someone of means. She seemed to sense him watching her, turned and frowned at him. You shouldn't stare, it's rude. "Sae's swearin'." He countered in Gaelic, the words spoken with the distinctive, heavy accent of one from lands further to the north of her homeland, a faint smile curving his full lips. "But I dinnae oft hear oor tongue spoken." Admitedly there were significant differences between their dialects, but he'd understood her well enough. He could only hope she'd understand him. Whether or not she felt that her day was bad enough without speaking to him was another question. @Sara
  3. "Ave Caesar." Tiberius greeted his uncle formally, showing respect for the position he held in the empire and bowing in acknowledgement before meeting Quintus' gaze squarely. He was a youth on the cusp of manhood, still showing the occasional flashed of youthful impetuousness or mischief, but already viewing the challenges and burdens of adulthood with a seriousness and intelligence that belied his bloodline. Even so, he still had much to learn, and Quintus, Caesar, Uncle and adoptive father, was one of his primary role models. The location that Quintus had chosen for their meeting could not be idle, and Tiberius looked around, noting the urns of Caesars past and their families, many their own family but some not. Some loved, some loathed, but all treated with respect at the end, as their role deserved. There was a lesson here, in the solemnity of the mausoleum, even as there was in the foolishness of Saturnalia; they were all as equals before the gods, and if nothing else, deserving of dignity and respect. Approaching the shrine to the Gods near the entrance, Tiberius carefully placed the offering of incence that he had brought into the bronze bowl, next to a piece which was already smouldering, so that it would catch and fill the mausoleum with the scents of resin and spices. Offering placed, Tiberius looked across at Quintus, blue gaze solemn. "You asked for me, Uncle?" No doubt with good reason; Quintus was a busy man, though not too busy to ensure that his nephew had the appropriate care and upbringing. Tiberius counted himself lucky, he had lost much in the purge, but there were those who had lost more. At least he still had family. @Chris
  4. Sarah

    The gift horse

    Laurels on the charioteer's head, the winning team set off on a slow victory lap whilst the bay team finished exiting the arena. The next competitors would be waiting in the wings as soon as the chestnut team cleared the field, and the next heat would begin. In the meantime there was a lull. Tiberius took a sip of his watered wine against the heat of the day, idly scanning the crowds to see whether he recognised anyone amongst those who were enjoying a lazy afternoon watching the chariot heats. Rather than the familiar feeling of recognition, as he glanced around Tiberius felt the slight shock of finding himself the received of an unfamiliar but very frank gaze. A young man, perhaps a few years younger than himself, with grey-blue eyes, was looking up at him. As their gazes met the other smiled and even waved, then suddenly looked away. Tiberius searched his memory; did he know the youth? He was pretty sure that he didn't. No doubt the other recognised him as one of the Imperials. Well, an important part of being an Imperial was representing the will and wellbeing of Rome's citizens, and one couldn't do so if one didn't know what that was. It was easy for someone in power to think only of how they might benefit themselves, or how they wanted the Empire run. But that did not make good leadership. Beconning to a member of the Praetorian Guard, he asked the man to go and invite the youth to speak with him. @Atrice
  5. There were a few giggles; well, what should one expect? Like Greek athletes the two young man ran naked, and the audience contained many women, but theirs was a trust of the Gods. Tiberius tries to tell himself that they weren’t laughing at him. He’d been chosen for this sacred duty, that offered some small salve for uncertain adolescent pride. Hands were extended, and occasionally a back was bared. Each youth ran down one side of the route, and Tiberius flicked his bloodied last onto the proffered skin, not hard and not really paying any attention to who it belonged to, just desperate not to miss anyone who’d come for the blessing. Some would be newly wed and eager, others lacking a child and hopeful a blessing would help them. I’ll leave that one for you, cousin! Titus’s call caught Tiberius’s attention, and sure enough, near his twin sister who was hanging back out of range, was a young lady with her back bared. Dashing over with a grin, Tiberius flicked the lash of fresh skin at the woman’s back, trying to turn it so that the bloody side hit her skin, but not too hard, and seeing that he left a mark. Then he smirked at his sister Claudia, brandished the lash in a mock-threat before winking and running off again. If he actually hit her with it he’d never hear the end of it. A woman, still young but with the figure of a mother, left the side of one he recognised as Cornelii-Scipionis; Appius, he recalled, to hold out her hands. Tiberius smiled at her warming and flicked the bloody strips of hide lightly over her skin, hoping that she would get her wish. He was reasonably sure they had children, but that did not mean they should not wish for more. @Gil @Anna @Jenn @Gothic @Echo @Brian
  6. Sarah

    Flames of Rome

    Pontia had Tiberius's full attention as she described the mother he only vaguely remembered. Most of it correlated with what others had told him, that she was an intelligent woman, caring and kind but also canny in the way of politics and strong in the face of challenges. A worthy Augusta. The latter was less well known to him, that she'd been a keen rider and possibly a military strategist. The latter seemed to underline her canny intelligence, the former a more personal interest. Tiberius liked horses, they were simpler and less demanding than people, but still with their own needs and quirks. When he was young he'd been enthusiastic about the chariot races, but the the Vestal's words brought a sudden urge to improve his riding skills, as a way of being closer to his mother. His father he'd never known at all, and most of the time he felt that he knew him more as 'Caesar Claudius' from official records and descriptions of him in his professional guise. And he wondered what Drusus Claudius Sabuchius had been like. The head Vestal's next words caused Tiberius to mirror her frown, ever so faintly, though in truth what she told him was no surprise. Of course there had been grasping and greedy fingers when it seemed that the Claudean line of Caesars was at an end, the family destroyed. And really, what did it matter? Things were things and replaceable; it was more the sentimental value of what had belonged to his parents, that he had barely known. In the end his family had retained stewardship of the Empire, and that was a far greater trust. But not everyone could be Caesar, and their family would need to support themselves. Things that he should discuss with his uncle, now that he was of age. Presumably his father had left a will too, though likely his holdings had gone to Tiberius's uncle, as the new paterfamilias and supporter of Tiberius's generation. "Thank you, Vestalis Maxima, for your words. You bring me closer to my family." The young man said gravely, meaning every word. "May the Gods grant us more peaceful times." He added quietly, glancing away for a moment. But the Gods already had; under Quintus the Empire had known peace. Tiberius was determined that it should continue so. @Gothic
  7. It was a rare moment of freedom; he'd been trusted to go to the Emporium Magnum, the grand markets, on an errand. It was only picking up a garment that had been ordered, for his mistress, and he knew that it was a test to see how he handled this extra level of freedom, but it was heady none the less, to walk across the flagged square and not be bothered by anyone. There was someone bothering other people, however. A big brute of a man, a boy cowering before him, a ring of cowards who wouldn't step forward, and then as he watched, one did and just about got laid flat. A lad with red hair, unusual amongst Romans but far more common amongst Aeneas's own people. He was dressed like a slave, but a well-kept one. He wasn't sure from this angle what station in life the big man held. But someone was going to get pummelled if no one did anything, and likely it would now be the youth who'd tried to intervene. Who might his owner be? "You hit valuable slave, his Dominos ask expensive questions." Aeneas pointed out, stepping into range and eyeing the brute with the eye of an experienced fighter. Under his pale, freckly skin he'd developed the musculature of a gladiator, though he was still tall and lean compared to the big man who seemed to get his jollies from abusing others. Aeneas was never going to have that herculean build that some favoured, but he was quick and light on his feet, and right now entirely focused on the brute and the question of whether or not he would see sense, or pick Aeneas as his next target. @Sharpie
  8. "Want to." He confirmed. Whether or not he'd ever get the chance to see the theatre however was largely beyond his control. He served the whims of his mistress, and he was pretty sure that it wasn't a usual place for a gladiator. But his views on Roman society were changing, from a one-dimensional resentment of a hard-hearted people to a growing interest in the lives and passtimes of those who were free. Maybe one day he'd get to experience the same. He was also understanding that not all citizens of the Empire were, strictly speaking, of Roman origin. Perhaps it was because he was Greek that Theodorus was not so stuffy about their social divide. He'd certainly been interesting to talk to. He gave a nod at the man's warning, and tested his ankle gingerly on the floor. It felt better, if stiff. "Will try. Doctore not want damage gladiator, Domina not be pleased." And anyone who'd seen Corinthia in a temper would likely fear that. Perhaps there were times when it wasn't so bad to be viewed as goods, as long as one was valuable goods. "Is good meet you too, good talk." He said with a smile. "Interesting. You teach me about Romans, Greeks." He didn't have the words to express his appreciation of the opportunity to broaden his cultural understanding, but hopefully the medicus got the idea. "Thank you." And with that he turned to head back out and see whether the doctore would give him leave for the rest of the day. OOC: Thank you for an interesting thread! @Chevi
  9. Sarah

    The Bodyguards

    Is that so? He nodded in a reserved fashion, offering nothing further for the moment. He wanted to see how Cynane responded. It was an odd feeling, considering his own standing and politics less than those of his mistress, to whom his own were of course inextricably tied. But he supposed it was no different to talking to members of neighbouring clans, and minding their chieftains' business. Claudia Caesaris; that was a name he knew, even if he hadn't been able to put a face to it until Cynane nodded towards the young lady with the dramatic combination of fair skin and dark hair, as elaborately styled as her clothes. Oh yes, he'd heard that name before, the young lady who occupied the position that his mistress felt should be hers. "They cousins." He pointed out. Two Claudias, both named for the line of Caesars from which they descended, but his was the daughter of a freed slave and a man who might have been Caesar but never was, whilst Cynane's was the daughter of a Caesar who had actually been, and a lady of high birth. This was all information he'd gleaned slowly over time, from his mistress and the household slaves. He never commented on the difference in station, knowing that it was Corinthia's goal to be recognised as an imperial daughter, and in his interest to assist with such. "I still learn Romans." He admitted quietly. "First I sent to ludus. But my Domina and her mother both kind to me." Well, Corinthia shouted at him quite a bit, but he'd learned that she was all bark and no bite, at least where he was concerned, and her mercurial moods likely to blow over quickly if he simply weathered them. "They same age? Your Domina and mine." He suggested. Close anyway. "Could be good friends." He observed. If given the chance, anyway. And if Corinthia behaved herself. Surely she would recognise a political ally. @Atrice
  10. Lexus thought he knew the establishment, which was all to the good. The slave had heard of it only, and via the guards, so goodness knew what quality it was. And whether a lady like Gaia should be seen there, not that the two men, slave and freeman, would let anything happen to her. Of course, he was sweaty and half-dressed, and probably stank, so it was not that surprising that the others suggested he might like to clean up, even as Aeneas was keen to exit the ludus as rapidly as possible. He couldn't argue with their good sense. "I go wash, get tunica." He confirmed, bowed slightly to the pair, and disappeared into the buildings of the ludus, long strides eating up the distance quickly. What an odd turn of events, he mused as he walked. Much as it pained him, the reality that he was never likely to return home was settling in, and thus he was beginning to wonder what life he might make for himself here. The additional freedoms that were beginning to come with trust and time were making that transition of thought a little easier. @Gothic@Atrice
  11. Tiberius, dressed in a gleamingly white toga over a tunic edged in gold and purple, was sitting quietly as his twin sister chatted with her friend, watching the comings and goings around them. One could learn a lot by watching whom people did and didn't speak to. He was accompanied only by Tigris, an older man who was his body slave, and the usual Praetorian guards that surrounded the Imperial presences. Claudia asked about the upcoming bout, and from the nearest seats a Senator he recognised spoke up. Aulus had been a staunch supporter of their uncle, Caesar Quintus, for much of his life, so the trusted position of his family, so close to the Imperials, had been well earned. "Thank you, Senator." He smiled politely at the man, taking the list and passing it to his sister so that she could peruse it, before handing it back. "One trusts that your return to Rome has been pleasant." He said to Aulus, with a glance and a faint smile of acknowledgement for his lady wife. The man had been governing in the provinces, if Tiberius recalled correctly. An honour, but he was was quite likely slated for greater things still. @Anna@Chris@Sharpie@Gothic
  12. Sarah

    Fuck and be merry!

    The water boy brought him wine at the behest of his ever dignified mistress, and Spurius nodded politely in acknowledgement in Titinia's direction, before taking a sip. It was a good vintage, the madame was gracious to serve it, but that was something that he'd observed about her. Perhaps it was a front that went with the elite clientelle, but then he was no different with his own salesman's face. But she was pleased with Justinia, which was well. The girl seemed just as pleased, even as Titinia lamented the tendency of her best slaves to earn their way to freedom faster than she'd like. Well, she didn't have to free them, but her slaves seemed to respond well to the possibility. Certainly Justinia seemed positively delighted with her current circumstances. "Only a problem if she wishes to leave." He observed, voice deepening slightly in amusement, accompanied by a humoured twist of the lips, as he glanced at the young lady in question. She was exquisite, as Titinia described her, and had flowered further with access to the arts and wiles of the brothel, turned out in a manner that brought out the best of her beauty. "What would you do, if you were free?" He asked Justinia on impulse, carefully lowering himself into one of the available chairs, using his staff for support. Even as he asked he observed Gaia out of the corner of his eye, aware that she had been a slave herself once, though he would not be so crass as to draw attention to the fact. She had also been the wife of an Imperial. A person's fortunes could change, in the blink of an eye. He was all too aware of that. Right now Justinia's seemed to be rising. Even Spurius's might be said to be positive, surrounded as he was by three beautiful and confident women. Definitely the thorn amongst the roses. @Gothic@Anna@Sydney
  13. Tiberius laughed and held up his hands to ward off any further playful blows. "I never said more than you!" He protested, amused at what his sister read, or pretended to read, into his words. The idea of jewellery and other ornaments was to compliment the wearer. And if one saw a striking slave, the next question was, who owned them? And Cynane was striking; it wasn't like Tiberius hadn't noticed. He had a young man's sincere if undiscerning appreciation of good-looking women, though his nature meant that he generally kept his observations of the ladies at court to himself. Likely if Cynane was his slave she'd have been well harassed with questions about her origins. "You should." He agreed. His slaves weren't quite so exotic. "Not so much." He admitted, trying to think if there were any interesting stories amongst his mostly Roman-born slaves. "Old Tigris has been to Judaea, all the way to Petra, where he says great temples, tombs and government buildings are cut into the very rock of the hills, rather than built." Which sounded fantastic, yet also somehow practical, if one had strong cliffs to work with. "That would be something to see." He mused. Glancing around the room, the young Imperial sipped his wine. "I wonder what mischief we're in for tonight." He mused, eyeing both the slaves and the nobles who took their ease amongst them. These were, of course, only the trusted inner court. Likely things in the city would become far more raucous, if stories were to be believed. @Gothic
  14. I'd love to write this thread too!
  15. We have, I've just been super busy IRL, but getting back into posting now. Definitely up for that thread @Sara! I'd love to see the Claudias (Caesaris and Corinthia) together but that would be boring for @Gothy to write, since they're both hers. Certainly would love to see Corinthia interact with more of the Imperials.
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