Sarah

Awesome, thanks Gothy!

Can I please request a Domus for Spurius in Domi Aventini Minoris ?

Home grown watermelon.

Nothing particularly unusual then. He'd thought perhaps from the way she said it that her previous Dominus might have had some strange kink or fetish that she'd been asked to fulfill; occasionally such information could be useful. But no. It seemed it was simply that her efforts had not been appreciated by her Dominus the way they had by her Domina; if she's grown up with the woman then perhaps that had come as a shock. Hopefully she hadn't been ruined by that woman's attention. Perhaps she needed a reality check. Spurius drew a long breath in through his nose, hazel eyes unsympathetic. "Your Domina was unusual. Do not expect appreciation for your efforts." He told Justinia bluntly. "Your place is to serve. If you need no correction, you have done well, and that is all the accolade you will receive." Not expression of appreciation, but lack of punishment, was the reward for a slave performing as they should. At least, in many households, and Spurius had no desire to instill in her an expectation of anything more. Such was life, and if it seemed unfair, no doubt if the Gods thought she deserved better then she would have been born free. "Did your Domina bed you as well?" He asked, knowing that the whores of the Domus Venus were expected to service all comers. The more accurate information he could provide Titinia about her skills, the more appreciative she was likely to be, financially. He hadn't yet learned anything that suggested that wasn't the best place for her, and if she expressed dissatisfaction at a lack of appreciation, no doubt Titinia could beat that expectation out of her. Then again, if she did well, her patrons might be very appreciative. @Sydney

Hey! More cat mums! Yay!

You can't go wrong with a straight, sweet mead, and my favourite flavoured one is probably a ginger mead. That came out very well.

When Tiberius first heard that Titus would be running with him he'd thought it was his brother by adoption, Titus Flavius Caesar Alexander, but somehow his usually adventurous buddy had managed to weasel out. Rather it was the other Titus Flavius Alexander, his second cousin on his mother's side. It was an honour to be chosen as one of the luperci for this year's celebrations. Tiberius had felt proud and not at all self-conscious about standing before the crowds in nothing but what the Gods gave him - nudity was hardly rare in Roman society - at least until he came to stand next to his cousin. Titus was a man grown, married with children, and had served Caesar in the farthest corners of the Empire. Though filling out, Tiberius still had the slimness of youth, and his story was still largely unwritted. Well, a small part was being written today, as he stood up straight whilst the priest laid the bloodied knife against his brow, marking with the blood of the sacrifices. The febua, bloody thongs of fresh hide, were brought to them and placed in their hands. Tiberius gripped his tightly, not wanting to lose hold of it. A glance to the side revealed Titus's wicked grin, as his cousin smirked and quietly asked if he was ready. It was a reassuring sight, and in that moment the mischief of his cousin's smile was infectious; Tiberius smirked slowly as well. "Ready." He confirmed. If they were going to do this, they would do it properly, and give their all for the Gods and the future generations of Rome. @Gil@Gothic

Such conversations were normal for Spurius, as Justinia suspected he had them many times, with many people, over the years. He was brusque and businesslike, but not in any way derogatory; he wasn't out to humiliate her. There would be no point. He only wanted information, to enable him to determine where the best market for her might lie. As long as his questions were answered truthfully and promptly, then this could be over quickly and painlessly. And it seemed they were; at least, there were none of the usual signs that the slave was lying to him, and the answers that Justinia gave him made sense. Her Domina had been more fond of her than of her husband, and following her passing Justinia's Dominus had used her just enough to assert his complete dominance over the woman he was, in fact, jealous of, before getting rid of her. Though the fact that she felt it necessary to emphasise the man's resentment in the face of her obedience might be a warning sign; did she protest too much? "Everything?" He echoed, the first time he'd really responded directly to what Justinia had said. He had a deep, baritone voice but his tone was mild, only vaguely curious. "And what did he ask of you?" Since she felt it worth mentioning, perhaps it was worth finding out. Maybe Justinia would learn that it was better not to volunteer any information beyond what was specifically asked. @Sydney

It was a strange time of year, but deliberately so. They turned their world upside down in honour of the gods. Well, if that pleased them, then so be it. Spurius was generally of the opinion that the gods took more than they gave, but he kept it to himself. His own household slaves had been feasted and feted by his own hand, and those he trusted to return were given leave to enjoy the more varied celebrations in the neighbourhood. Even his stock slaves in the warehouse by the marketplace had been treated to a feast, with meat and good wine, and a musician to play for them that they might dance. Though Spurius was always careful to run his stock down to the bare minimum just before Saturnalia, as a means of controlling the cost. Normally he used a litter when traveling any distance, possibly seen as aping his betters but it was for practical reasons, his limping gait would only carry him so far. But even Romulus and Remus - the muscular twins who carried his litter - were allowed to celebrate in this season. So when he felt restless in the evening he'd simply taken his staff and wandered, moving at an easy pace for the sake of his leg, hailing neighbours and unknowns on this night of revelry. Whether by chance or by design, his uneven footsteps had led him to an area that was familiar from his work, and curiosity turned his steps. Following the light and sound he paused in the doorway of the Domus Venus, looming alongside his staff, the lamplight casting his deep-set eyes into shadows. He'd never come here for pleasure, only business. Occasionally he found promising slaves to offer to the Domina of the brothel; the most recent had been a young woman called Justinia, a few months ago. He did wonder whether the madame had been pleased with her. He didn't expect to see another familiar figure, taking her ease in the warm room, whilst attractive young things flitted about. Ignoring the whores and the inevitable bodyguard, Spurius bowed good-humouredly to the two women. "Lady Titinia, always a delight." He lied warmly, part of the old game the two practiced business owners played. "And Lady Gaia, an unexpected pleasure." He added in her direction. "Whilst I maintain that you are surely far too young yourself to have a daughter so mature, do tell me, was she pleased with her barbarian?" The man was probably dead in the Arena by now, but as long as little miss had enjoyed him, he might yet have a future customer. "And I trust the most recent was suitable?" This was to Titinia; no doubt he'd have heard about it if Justinia hadn't been. @Gothic@Anna@Sydney

A vast change of fortunes, once her Domina passed, but neither particularly surprising nor unusual. It was common, normal, for a man to take his pleasure with his slaves; perhaps the fact that Justinia had been the favourite of her previous master's wife was the only reason she'd been spared that earlier. Perhaps it was the reason she hadn't been afterwards, or even the reason the man had been eager to get rid of her. She'd been a steal; her previous Dominus's eagerness to talk her down had meant that Spurius could haggle down the price; beyond that he made his own judgements. It was one of the reasons that he hadn't been quick to move her on; a slaver had to provide guarantees and he needed to determine how much of what her seller had said was true, or exaggeration. Quite a lot of it, as it turned out. At least, she'd been quiet and obedient whilst in his keeping. If she proved otherwise for her new masters and he was forced to buy her back, well, things might take a different turn. But for now she'd responded well to a firm but light hand, and made no trouble. She also answered his question easily and presumably truthfully. Some slaves, especially the younger ones, were loathe to admit they'd been used in such ways, but Spurius was only interested from a business point of view. How could you think less of someone who was already a slave? "Your previous Dominus bedded you; good." The mistress of the Domus Venus wouldn't have to have her broken in then. Spurius was always cautious when dealing with the Syndicate; dealing well with them was insurance for the future, and they could pay, but hand them a slave that was more trouble than worth and the trouble could all come back to him, doubled. So he did so with care, as he did many of the things in his life. And yet... "He did not seem particularly pleased with you. Why?" Was there same behavioural reason, something she hadn't shown whilst in his keeping? Or was she just lousy in bed? He didn't want to find out that she had a problem the hard way; from the Syndicate. @Sydney

Spurius dealt a great deal in barbarian slaves. They were easy to handle in large numbers and virtually disposable, though not hugely profitable individually unless they were particularly unusual. Did the slaver take a certain sadistic pleasure in buying and selling like cattle those who had once injured him on the frontier? Maybe. It was hard to tell with Spurius where his passions lay, if indeed he had many. Whatever he enjoyed, he didn't do so in public, and there were no particular indications that he was a drunk, lustful, a gambler or a sadist. He did attend the theater occasionally, though that could mean anything. But whilst he dealt considerably in chalk-footed foreigners, Spurius was a businessman and knew that a good Roman slave could be worth twelve times what an untamed barbarian would fetch. Bands of foreigners moved in and out of the large pens inside the warehouse that was converted to look much like a stables - though not for four-legged livestock - at a rapid pace, as they were sold in groups to the Ludus or as labour gangs for farms outside the city. Valuable slaves - Roman born or at least well trained - were housed in smaller dormitories where they had a little more space and their own pallets to sleep on. They also got a little meat with their food, and softer tunics to wear, and were generally cared for like a prized horse, whilst Spurius identified the buyers most likely to pay a good price for them. Some went quickly; indeed he often had buyers for tutors and makeup artists even before he obtained them. Others, where he saw potential, were kept until just the right opportunity arose. Some, if they were particularly well behaved, were permitted to roam the warehouse and the connected yard, and put to work maintaining it until their time came. One such was the obedient young woman with the exotic, dark skin and fine looks that spoke of blood from the south. She'd been set to serving out the food to the other slaves, and cleaning the smaller rooms. And she'd done it all without complaint. Still, he was of the opinion that she'd be wasted as a house slave, and at last he thought he'd found the right buyer for her. He noted approvingly that she came when sent for, hazel gaze running over her once more as she stood before him, assuring himself that she was as he remembered. That birthmark he knew she had might stand against her, but then it might not matter by the time it was seen. "I did." He confirmed, and his expression betrayed no particular emotion, only a business-like interest as he took in her air of innocence and blossoming womanly figure. Yes, with her looks she'd probably suit perfectly those he had in mind, though she might need training. He would need to determine that. "Tell me, what did you do for your last Dominus and Domina?" He asked bluntly. By all accounts she'd been a favourite of her Domina until the woman had passed and her husband had tired of the girl, but what exactly that had meant for Justinia would need to be determined. @Sydney

"Claudia." Her twin greeted her with a warm smile. "I have, and so have others, from the look of things." He gestured to where two of his personal slaves were playing what looked like a dice game with a few others, and finding it hilarious. No doubt they'd taken advantage of the wine served, and even his and Titus' old tutor appeared to be joining in, though perhaps he was teaching the younger slaves how to play. Or how to drink. "And you?" He asked, blue gaze meeting hers. "Are you enjoying the evening?" It was a time to relax, to let one's hair down as Claudia had, and not stand on ceremony. Where at the Temple he'd been dressed as befit a young Imperial, now he was far more casual in his comfortable dinner wear. Glancing up and about he wondered who else was still present, and who had found other things to amuse themselves with. @Gothic

He had changed, they both had. No longer were they children, but youths growing into adulthood. Childhood innocence had been left behind long ago thanks to the purge, but now was a time when the next generation of Rome's upper classes were beginning to come into their own. Tiberius grinned at Caecina's surprise; looking suddenly very young again. It was good to see her, one whom he counted amongst his friends as well as relatives. "I have, thank you." He replied to her question. "Busy, but well. Such is life." He shrugged easily. "It's good to see everyone together." He gestured to the crowd of Imperials, Senatores and high ranking Equestrians; the individuals likely to sway the politics of the Empire. Many of whom were also either family, or likely to become so. That didn't mean that he wasn't taking careful note of who spoke with whom. "What's news?" He asked, genuinely interested. "What have you been up to?" Tiberius was thinking that he and Claudia should make sure that Caecina came to the palace more often. @Echo

LOL Baked potatoes, I love it! The logic of youth. My broodies often end up sitting on golf balls, then I smuggle chicks from the incubator under them because I can fit more eggs in the incubator than under the hen. I usually brew meads. I've currently got a cherry mead brewing, which I'm sweetening with some blackberries as it ran a little dry. I've got a bunch of apricots in the freezer, debating whether to do an apricot mead (the last one was delicious) or scrump some apples from the trees up the road and do a sort of apricotted cider, which I've never tried before. Decisions decisions.

He had misunderstood. He'd thought she'd wanted him to carry the food and drink for her, but she'd only meant him to bring it to her, where she sat. He couldn't read her mind, but he accepted her grumbling at him equanimously, setting the plate of food onto the low table and holding the two glasses steady for her. They felt cool and slick in his hands, so very different from wood or pottery. Knowing Corinthia as he did, he'd been a little surprised when she'd filled both glasses, more so when, taking one of the goblets from him with a brush of her fingers, she commanded him drink as well. She seemed almost angry about it, as though she was doing what she felt she should, rather than what she wanted; or was she angry that she wanted to humour him and she felt she shouldn't? She was a puzzle, his mistress. Back home he'd drunk beer, or fruit wine, or uisge-beatha. Gladiators got beer or watered lora wine, bitter stuff made from the third pressings. Taking a slow drink from the glass goblet, Aeneas tasted what was at least a more pleasant beverage, though he was hardly experienced in the matter of Roman vintages. Settling himself into the second chair, Aeneas inclined his head slightly and regarded Corinthia with interest, blue eyes darker in the warm light of the lamps and torches. Tonight was, he'd had it explained, a night for turning the usual order of things upside down, of liberties and freedoms and a lack of standing. Perhaps it was even confusing for some, and not everyone appreciated such change, however temporary. "Better?" He asked her quietly, watching her expression. "You beautiful, you know." Yes, she might shout at him for taking such liberties, but he was getting used to being shouted at. @Gothic

“The touch of your hand says you’ll catch me, if ever I fall. You say it best, when you say nothing at all.” He could have said something, he could have pushed for more, or railed at the injustice, or pressured her to let him go, but he felt that he already knew what the answer would be. And such a request would not be received well. Somehow it wasn’t needed, that moment of connection was enough, one gain however small, towards seeing the Romans as human, and being seen by them as human. It wasn’t what he wanted, what he yearned for and wept over in the depths of the night, but it was something. Sometimes the best reply was silence. She looked away then, wiped her eyes carefully in a delicate gesture. It was a different side of her, one he hadn’t seen before, and it piqued his curiosity. Her presentation and mask had been so perfect when he’d arrived, was it her youth that meant it had cracked so easily? Or was it something else. He didn’t know, not being much older nor an expert in manipulation, but he did watch people, and those blue eyes watched her now as she composed herself. She had the front of a confident woman, yet it seemed to him that it was armour for the vulnerable girl who lived just beneath. Whether or not he was right or very wrong, only time would tell. She was a few years younger than him, he judged; behind her make-up was the blush of youth. Yet when she drew herself up and her mask slid back into place she was as regal as any chieftain. It was an impressive transition, and he had yet to learn how rare that glimpse of her had been. Still, her words were unexpected. The last he'd been told was that he would be a gladiator, his purpose to bring glory to his mistress, and that if he died in the ring no one would mourn. Yet suddenly a different fate was being set before him, and blue eyes looked up at his mistress, trying to fathom her intent. Word had it that the best gladiators could earn their freedom, but it was no certain path. Never the less, he'd hoped to walk it. Now she was setting him on a different one. 'Bodyguard' wasn't a term he'd heard before, but the words 'body' and 'guard' were known, and the combination was fairly obvious, especially when Corinthia described his duties. She wanted him as a ghillie, protector and attendant. He wondered who specifically might want to harm her, or whether such a role was common in Roman society, and whether there would be a chance to earn his freedom in that role. There would certainly be the opportunity to learn his mistress better. Of course, informing him was merely a formality in this structured society. "Yes, Domina." He said simply, then cocked his head slightly in curiosity. Who would want to harm her? Perhaps time would tell. "I guard." @Gothic

Focusing on the sparring he was involved in - the back and forth, give and take, defend and attack - mindful of his opponent’s willingness to take advantage of any opportunity. It wasn’t until the doctore who oversaw the sparring paused the bout that Aeneas heard his name being called. He glanced in the man’s direction and gained a slight nod of permission, so Aeneas bowed to his opponent and returned his weapon and shield to the rack with all due care, before he approached the stands where the familiar form of Gaia stood next to a man he did not know. “Domina.” He said politely, with a bow of acknowledgement, blue gaze moving from her to her unknown companion and back again. He breathed deeply, his muscles gleaming with the sweat of exertion, though he was no titan in build. Long and lean, he was a man of endurance rather than strength, and the armour he wore was minimal in order to show off his exotic white skin and blue tattoos. @Atrice@Gothic

The young woman who approached and took a chair next to him exuded the easy confidence one expected in the best courtiers, as well as a casual elegance, the blues of her clothing offsetting the rich browns of her hair and eyes. She was also familiar, in the vague way of extended family, being the stepdaughter of his cousin, Flavia Juliana. Juliana of course was older than Tiberius, he was closer to Caecina’s age. “Salve, Caecina.” He greeted her with a genuine, boyish grin as she settled next to him. Tiberius was maturing every day, and dressed in a fine linen tunic and toga with an edging in purple silk and gold thread the resemblance to this father's family was stronger than ever, but there were still moments when he seemed very young, on that awkward cusp. “Have you been well?” He asked, genuinely interested. He had vague memories of her from his life before the purges; her father had served his, before his world had been turned upside down. But it wasn’t really until Juliana married Tuscus - likely in part as reward for his loyalty - that Caecina had come back into their circle again. @Echo

Thank you, it's great to be here. I have walking teacosies (complete with fuzzy nuggets): And stupid skittish things that lay blue eggs: I'm also a cat mum and adoptive dog mum (they came with the husband). And we have Persian sheep!

Hi Everyone! I'm a thirty-something government servant with a master's degree and a background in bioscience. I'm also Australian; what is it with Aussies and ancient Rome? Hubby and I live on a hobby farm just outside of the city. I have too many hobbies but they include breeding and showing chickens, cutting gemstones, computer games (currently Far Cry Primal and Oxygen Not Included) gardening and cooking. I also brew my own alcohol. I love writing and also write for a Star Trek RPG. I'm up for most characters and storylines so feel free to drop me a line in my plotter. Glad to be playing with you all.

I'll volunteer Tiberus as tribute. I think it would be funny.

He's been in my head for a while, started as an NPC who sold Aeneas to Gaia and Corinthia, but I enjoyed writing him. Also I couldn't see any other slaver characters. He's not a cruel man, to him it's just a job, though he dislikes foreigners after nearly dying on a battlefield in Brittania. I think it would be fun for Tacita to become one of his house slaves; I'm sure he could see the use in a slave who doesn't speak. @Jenn

My slaver character Spurius has just been approved. Maybe he could either be Tacita's new master, or be selling her if she's up for sale once again?

Below on the sands the gladiators trained, men - and the occasional woman - from across the Empire, mostly captives, a very few free, but not free to dally or be distracted when in training. One amongst them stood out; outlandishly tall, pale beneath his freckles and rangy, with blue tattoos marking the bare skin of his chest and upper arms, visible where his armour didn't cover them. Aeneas had blocked out the sounds of those who were idly watching the sparring, at least until a familiar voice called out an unfamilar name. He resisted the urge to turn and look, but even so his partner took advantage of the momentary lapse of concentration to press the attack. Blocking with his scutum, Aeneas took a wide step to bring his gladius round towards his opponent's exposed flank, and at the same time bring that section of the stands into view. Gaia's visits were infrequent but always welcome, his mistress's youthful mother a far more kind and pleasant presence than Corinthia herself, even as he was learning the young woman behind the haughty mask.