Sarah

The medicus's words caught Aeneas's attention. Had he understood the man correctly? He became a Roman citizen by serving in the legions? Admittedly, for a brief moment he didn't look very happy about the fact, but still. From where Aeneas was standing it sounded wonderful. "You want still serve with legions?" He asked carefully, blue gaze watching Theo's face. Did the man miss his previous role?

He knew nothing of Achaea, or Germania. They'd passed through Gaul, but that wasn't his home. "I was trade with Brigantes when legion arrived." He volunteered quietly, since he'd asked the medicus about his own background. "I Caledonii, far north." And it was only terrible luck or the wrath of the gods that had seen him swept up in the fighting.

So they were both new to Rome. Aeneas wasn't sure what a diploma was, but by all accounts the medicus was free to move about Rome as a citizen. Aeneas considered this as he followed Theo's instructions, moving his foot first back and forth, easily enough, then rolling it side to side, which caused him to wince. "Hurt." He said rolling his foot outwards. "Hurt more." he added, rolling it inwards. But he could make the movement.

@Chevi

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!

Hi Mack! Welcome from a fellow Antipodean; there's a few of us playing.

Looking forward to RPing with you!

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

Spurius watched the young woman's face as she studied the slate he held up to her, the look of concentration on her features indicative of mental effort. He waited patiently as several moments passed, before a momentary flash of frustration showed on her features as she looked up and shook her head. The slave reached for the tablet but Spurius withdrew it, holding it in his lap. For the moment she could 'speak' when he willed it.

"So, you can't read." He said. There was no judgement there, just a statement of fact. He was gathering information. She could write, somewhat, but not read what had been written. Did she truly understand what she wrote? Or had she learned a series of phrases by rote. Really, it was almost a shame that she had been taught to write; a slave who was known to be mute could be trusted not to pass on information. But how well could she write?

Again one thumb tapped against the slate as he regarded her thoughtfully, no obvious expression on his long features as he regarded her, assessing. Finally he held out the slate to her. "Write your name." Spurius commanded. In truth he could have called her whatever he wanted, but he handled so many slaves, often for so brief a time, that the effort and imagination required would be pointlessly expended. He generally called them by what they came with, if anything, and let their new masters rename them if they chose. Could she write anything other than learned phrases?

@Jenn

Aeneas watched the medicus with interest as he dared to pose a question; a little surprisingly, the man smiled, and answered him. Not only did he speak Greek, he was Greek. Not Roman at all. Perhaps that explained a few things, not least the man's faint resemblance to Claudia Gaia. Who had been a slave. Had this man also been a slave? He didn't look like one. "Achaea." The gladiator echoed, watching the medicus with intrigued blue eyes. "You are not slave?" He asked carefully, quietly.

Having confirmed that his ribs were not injured in an interesting way, the other man moved to examine his ankle. Aeneas noticed that he wasn't any rougher than he needed to be. Perhaps because he wasn't Roman, he did feel a need to treat slaves like animals, and unwanted animals at that.

"I was... a smith." He confirmed, copying Theo's grammar. He had to pause and think when the man asked how long he'd been at the Ludus. "I been at the Ludus one year? Bit more?" Something like that. "I think nearly two years since left Britania." He added quietly. Two years, away from his family, and his wife and child. No doubt they thought him dead, and she had re-married. At first he'd been desperate to escape, now he'd all but given up any hope of that. He found it easier not to think long term, to focus on the immediate, like the surprisingly congenial medicus who was happy to talk to him.

"How long have you been here at Rome?" Again the slave copied Theo's grammar. He was trying to improve his spoken Latin but it wasn't often that people engaged him in conversation; Gaia was one of the few who did. Corinthia preferred that he spoke only when spoken to.

@Chevi

I'm definitely up for them meeting and training together @kitty

"Greek." He echoed. It was one fragment of information about his name; no one seemed particularly inclined to explain it to him. The most he'd gathered was that it was some warrior out of legend, which he supposed was not a bad thing in itself. "I don't know this name they give." He admitted evenly, regarding the the other man with a guarded curiosity. Questions and speaking out of turn were often punished, but the man had volunteered the information; might he be a little more open to conversation than Aeneas's trainers? "You know Greek?" His Latin wasn't great, but given that he was neither a native speaker nor being actively taught, he could only learn by immersion and the subjects discussed around him were limited. He was well equipped for the matters of the ludus, Theo would be disappointed if he asked for a philosophical dissertation.

Obediently lifting his arm, Aeneas held still whilst his ribs were inspected, his only reaction to the pressure a sharp intake of breath. Obviously gladiators were expected to be stoic, but there was no wince, no shying away from the pain, and his ribs didn't give much under Theo's expert examination. Obviously bruised, possibly a small fracture, but not broken.

Was he left-handed? "Aye." Aeneas replied, momentarily forgetting himself and using the word from his own language. Was he being invited to comment? "Doctore says is good; others not expect." He said, then seemed to consider for a moment whether he should say more. "I think he is right." He ventured. "Was not so good as smith, need own tools." Then he shrugged and lowered his arm.

@Chevi

They didn't go far. Past the main pens and the smaller dormitories for the Roman slaves were the kitchens, a tiny sanatorium, a store room, and finally a couple of offices. Spurius limped into one - it was his right leg that he favoured - and sat down on the chair before a desk, placing Tacita's slate carefully on it's surface before leaning his staff against the wall behind him.

"Close the door." He said simply as Tacita appeared a few steps behind him. The room wasn't large, it served as somewhere he could do the accounts, take a break, hold a business discussion or, in this case, interview a slave. It was very rare that he did so in private, not even the ones intended for the whorehouses. Spurius was very clear in his views about his employees sampling the merchandise, and he practiced what he preached. If you wanted it that badly, you could buy it like everyone else.

Taking his blotting cloth, Spurius carefully cleaned Tacita's last words off her slate, then scratched new ones on it's surface, holding it up for her to see. In a neat script the words CAN YOU READ THIS? appeared on the slim piece of stone.

@Jenn

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

At Tertius's gesture the female slave glanced at him, and then at Spurius, who raised his brows and gave her a stern look; yes, she was to do as she was bid. That was all she needed to approach the front of the cage. "Stand up straight." The slaver bid her, and she did so, showing a good enough posture and womanly figure. There was no obvious evidence of old injury or deformity. "She'd sound." Spurius assured Tertius, required as any slaver by law to declare any trait he couldn't guarantee; that one he would.

So the other man had served; no doubt that was where Spurius recalled him from. He had an excellent memory for faces. He nodded. "I fought in Brittania under Caesar Darius." He revealed. "We marched through Gaul. You seemed familiar; perhaps our legions stopped at the same fort." It was the obvious explanation. And it had been some time since Spurius had served also, being during Darius's reign. "I took a Brittanic blade in the leg, in case you're wondering." He added in a wry tone; best to get that out of the way.

"Now, if you're not interested in training a chalk-foot barbarian," he said, referencing the fact that newly captured slaves had to be marked as such when auctioned, with white chalk one one foot, "I do have a body slave, Roman born, who would fit right in immediately." He gestured to a young woman, one of the two he had standing free of the cages. She was dressed in a better tunic and was very neatly presented; even her hair was done. "She can do make-up and hair. Wasted in the kitchen, but perhaps for your lady?" He suggested.

@Atrice

Aeneas. It was what the Romans called him, and what they expected him to answer to, so when the Medicus asked if that was his name, the Brittanian gladiator simply nodded. "Yes, Medicus." Protesting or explaining about his real name never went down well; slaves were apparently called whatever their masters wished to name them.

"Hit in the ribs." He added, indicating his left side. It was his sword side, he was sinister, as his opponent had taken a gamble but it had paid off. He could feel the bruising already.

Blue eyes watched Theodorus cautiously, but the man's smile was warm and friendly and his words businesslike. Aeneas had learned that such manners could hide a sadistic streak in some, but only time would tell. Perhaps he was genuinely friendly. Not everyone treated him like the scum of the earth; Gaia was particularly kind but apparently she'd been a slave once herself. Interestingly, this man reminded him of Gaia a little. Whether it was the dark eyes and thick brown hair, or something in the bone structure that suggested maybe he wasn't all Roman.

@Chevi

'Small voice', those gestures presumably meant, as she indicated her throat and held her thumb and finger close together. She wasn't stupid, he could see that, in her efforts to answer and her creativity in doing so. And then she uttered what he could only describe as a squeak; if one were imaginative one could just about make out the fragment 'Dom' as she bowed. So that was it then? Interesting.

Accepting the slate again in his long-fingered hands, Spurius ran his gaze over the new words, still no sign of his thoughts or opinions on his long, horsey features as he read them. Then he looked up at Tacita again, lips drawn together, hazel gaze calculating, and tapped one thumb thoughtfully against the slate, which he didn't offer back. Finally, he seemed to reach a decision. "Come with me." He said.

With a nod to the factor who'd brought the slaves, the trader indicated that his work was acceptable, and the man headed off. Spurius turned in a different direction, deeper into the building, walking with a marked limp and leaning on his staff, Tacita's slate still cradled in his other arm. He clearly expected her to follow, as did his staff who moved around the building and glanced at her occasionally, but pointedly.

@Jenn

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

The bag was unusual. Slaves didn't generally have possessions. It was something to note, and perhaps he'd ask her about it - or confiscate it - after he'd run through the usual questions. Her teeth, hands and posture were all good, though he expected at least the latter two in one her age. Teeth could go at any time, but she looked healthy and like she'd not been worked too hard; a house slave presumably. He expected she would tell him, in answer to his question.

He didn't expect the raised hand, and raised an eyebrow in turn, even as she pointed to herself and to the bag. Could she not speak? Not even waiting for permission, she sat down and pulled from the bag something he'd expect only the old man to know how to use; a writing slate. He had little patience for disobedient slaves - tolerance of poor behaviour only encouraged more of the same - but as she hurriedly scribbled on the slate, he could see that she was trying to answer the question as best she could.

Taking the offered slate when she rose to her feet he read the words, a little surprised that a kitchen slave could write. But if she could not speak, that made a certain amount of sense. He glanced back up at her, hazel eyes measuring, before handing the slate back. "'Small voice'? Or no voice?" He asked simply, his expression thoughtful. Some might find the inability to speak annoying in a slave, others saw it's potential.

@Jenn

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.

April 74AD

Aeneas shucked his armour and limped into sanatorium with the doctore yelling at his back about being careless. He was well accustomed now to being yelled at; the doctores yelled at him, the lanister yelled at him, his mistress yelled at him. It seemed to be the story of his life. It didn't bother him as much as it might some; verbal abuse was far preferable to physical abuse. Slumping onto a bench, he waited his turn with the Ludus's medicus without any particular enthusiasm.

Rangy and lean, Aeneas didn't have the broad, heavily muscled build that was most admired in a gladiator; rather he was light on his feet and big on endurance. He was still taller than most Romans, and his white skin and blue tattoos marked him as a barbarian captive, as much as his pale eyes. Months under the Roman sun had liberally coloured his skin with freckles, and he bore two old scars, a sharp cut on his leg and a burn mark on his right forearm.

Being light on one's feet could be advantageous against slower, heavier opponents; until one landed awkwardly and rolled one's ankle. The blow from his opponent's practice weapon meant that he was also in possession of a shiny new set of bruised ribs. Nothing serious in the grand scheme of things; nothing fatal.

@Chevi

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

4 minutes ago, Chevi said:

Hi @Sarah!

I have a new character, Theodorus, he is a medicus for gladiators. I would love for him to meet either Aeneas (maybe he was injured in a fight, or Theo just happens to visit the ludus), or Spurius (because honestly he seems like such an interesting character). What do you think?

Hi @Chevi!

I'd love some more threads for Aeneas so definitely up for having him interact with Theodorus. And maybe if Spurius comes to deliver some slaves to be gladiators, Theodorus inspects them first or something?