Echo

For a moment, all Deia could think of was the sting of the wound he had given her, a wound that would turn into a scar soon, marking her forever. She could never leave this man behind when his mark would forever be on her. But after a little while, the stinging subsided to a manageable pain, enough so that she could focus on him whispering above her, saying that it was his right to cut her again because he paid to do it. It was really a helpless plea and she knew it. But what else could a woman fearing death say? But she hadn't died and the pain wasn't unbearable. And then came the part that she knew was coming: he entered her swiftly, with no warning and no preamble. This she understood, like she had understood his hands tracing her curves a moment before. She was a little dazed from the rush of emotions she had experienced the minute before, so she barely reacted to his action past a soft grunt at the initial entry. And she didn't move much, letting him do with her what he wanted to do, though she did turn her head to the side again. At least the cutting was over. @Atrice

Deia looked up suddenly at the noise, watching in amazement at the behavior of the other woman, talking back to someone and making a rude gesture as well. Gods, if she only had the gumption to do something like that! She would tell Titus and all her customers to go straight to hell and walk out. But she knew what would happen if she did that, and she didn't want it to happen. So she remained quiet and kept her head down around the brothel. This woman's appearance, however, was surprising and slightly amusing after the strain of the past hour and weeks. Deia gave a shadow of a smile as the other woman held out the jug, offering her some in a strange accent Deia hadn't heard before. "Well, I guess that would be alright. Thanks." She received the jug in her hands, reasoning that the night would be much easier to endure with a wine-clouded mind. As she drank, she examined the other woman. "I guess you're here as entertainment, too?" @Chevi

Oh, to be anywhere than here! Back in Greece, on the road between Greece and Rome, in Hades, even. The terror and adrenaline at the suspense that coursed through her body was making her shake, but she couldn't bring herself to look at the blade anymore, even if she wanted to know where it was. She kept her eyes squeezed tight as he drew his hand over her body at last. This sort of touching was something she could understand, almost the touch of a normal customer. But this was no normal customer. She opened her eyes momentarily as he spoke, swallowing hard as a sob escaped her, and then turning her head away. How could she not struggle against him? She felt his hand on her breast. And then the knife cut into her flesh. She bit back a scream as pain coursed through her skin, pressing her lips together and biting them to resist opening her mouth and releasing the noise. She clenched both fists as well, more tears falling onto the bed. After a moment, she felt the blade leave her skin and she released a breath she hadn't known she was holding. Deia was out of breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly, which made the blood from the wound dribble out quicker and trail down the side of her body in a way that strangely tickled. Against her better judgement, she tried to pull her arm out of his grip so that she could cradle the wound, feeling that that might make it feel better, as well as tried to turn her body away from him. "Please," she sobbed again. "Please don't cut me again! Please!" @Atrice

The tears were leaking out of her eyes in earnest now, as she watched the hand which held the blade rather than his face, and she raised a hand to wipe them from her cheeks. His eyes roamed over her and she knew that he wasn't seeing her as most men did, how she would look in certain positions, but rather where he would lay that knife to her skin, puncturing flesh, drawing blood and pain. His voice chilled her again as he commented that she was good at obeying orders, and he proceeded with his orders, telling her to lay down on her back. "Please, dominus..." she whispered, almost only to herself, as she felt the blunt edge on her throat. She knew it wasn't any use but instincts used for survival were fighting their way to the top, threatening to take control of her body and make her run, fight, anything but submit to the knife. Finally, she couldn't stand looking at him anymore and she closed her eyes, laying back slowly. She felt the weight of him shift the bed as he settled between her legs, sensing, rather than seeing, his eyes continuing their journey around her body. Absurdly, she wanted to tell him to just get on with it. The tension was getting to be too much and she just wanted it to be over. She wished she could train her mind to ignore that pain like she usually did the discomfort of any other customer. She wished any number of things as that moment before the knife fell stretched on into eternity. @Atrice

As she spoke, she had fallen, quaking, to her knees, finding them weakened and unable to support her weight. She clutched her wrist and fought the burning of tears in her eyes, somehow feeling that tears would only make him hurt her faster for her weakness. The thought did occur to her that she’d been used by the more experienced girls there, as Marcus’s plaything for the night because they knew what he had in store. Impotent rage filled her breast as she realized no one had warned her. She could have stayed away had she known this was what was coming. But she didn’t know. And now she did and there was nothing she could do but submit. She watched him like a hawk as he undressed, letting out a short breath at the sight of the knife in his hand. That was it then - he was a cutter. At his command, her first instinct was to blurt out a resounding ‘no,’ but she choked it back, past the lump that was ever-growing in her throat. She gulped and stood wordlessly after a breathless moment, in which her instincts to live and her instincts as a whore fought one another for dominance. She couldn’t tell him no, so she slowly, unwillingly, dragged her feet to the bed, still clutching her wrist even though it wasn’t hurting anymore. It was like a lifeline. At last, she sat on the edge of the bed, having never put her back to the man. @Atrice

Finally, the man admitted that he did want to hurt her and she trembled at the thought of it. But what did he want to do, exactly? He said he didn’t want to hit or choke her. What else was there? As soon as he let go of her wrist, she stumbled back a few steps and clutched the wrist in her other hand, staring at him wide-eyed. She did want to beg for mercy. And she would; she couldn’t fight the urge. “Please, dominus. Please don’t hurt me.” @Atrice

“Of- of course you are, dominus. I’m sorry for speaking incorrectly,” she said, her throat getting a lump in it. She furiously tried to swallow it away but it remained all the same. He wanted to hurt her, that much was clear to him. But what specifically he wanted to do was beyond her understanding. She yelped as he grabbed her wrist, tears pricking in the corners of her eyes as pain laced through her wrist. “You want to hurt me, don’t you, dominus?” She didn’t want to hurt. She wished she could disappear into the ground. @Atrice

Deia regarded him, forcing her eyes into a guarded mask so that he couldn’t tell her thoughts. Some men just liked hitting the girls they were with, or tying them up and teasing them with toys or their hands. Some liked their whores to beg for release, liked to be completely in control. Some were even so cruel as to want to break bones or choke their partners. “I think you like it rough,” she said. “Perhaps you like to hit your whore, or choke her? You like to be in complete control.” Despite her instincts telling her to stay as far away from this man as possible, she approached him slowly, making a move to undress him. @Atrice

Deia dipped her head as he said "let's go," half-heartedly waving a hand in the direction she wanted to go. She was silent on the walk there, barely noticing her surroundings as she thought about what he might want. If only she had listened more carefully to the other girls who had warned her about this man, listened to their stories as they detailed what exactly it was that he enjoyed. Then she could prepare herself for what was to come. But it couldn't be anything worse than she'd ever gone through, right? Soon, they reached a room with an open door, signifying its vacancy, and Deia pushed the door closed behind them, steadying herself before turning to face the man again. "So, dominus. What can I interest you in?" She was often good at knowing what a man liked when he came to her, but this man was another matter. Her mind couldn't travel the dark paths that wound around his thoughts. What twisted activities did he want to engage in with her? She couldn't bring herself to guess aloud. @Atrice

ECHO AGLAEA- POST HERE ANNIS- POST HERE CAECINA TUSCA- POST HERE DEIANIRA - POST HERE GAIUS LICINIUS HABITUS - POST HERE SPURIUS DOMITIUS S.L. MARCELLUS - POST HERE

Caecina rolled her eyes, smiling at that charming grin. No matter what she was feeling, that smile always melted her heart. He had admitted that he didn't know what to do and that he also needed to think and she nodded. "I think that would be best." Then he said that he wanted to be with her a lot, leaning down to kiss her one last time. She leaned into the kiss, savoring it because she expected it would be the last one for a while. The smile lingered on his face and she smiled reluctantly. "Yes. Let's go." And with that, the two were just step-siblings again, walking through the streets of Rome as though nothing had ever happened. @Atrice End.

Deia let out a quiet breath as he released her, though he knew that it was only momentary because soon they would be alone together. She didn't know what was worse: witnesses or no witnesses. As he let go of her, she stood up, brushing her hair out of her face and casting her eyes downward again. He was commanding her not to be fake and she nodded quickly. "Yes, dominus. I won't be fake." She wasn't sure she had the acting capability to pretend to be happy with this man, anyway. She glanced at her discarded tunic, and then back at him as he downed the rest of the wine she'd given him. "More wine, sir? Or... are you ready to go to a private room?" Gods, she hoped not. But it seemed like the time would be coming soon. In preparation, she gathered up the tunica and held it, though she knew better than to try and hide her nakedness. Somehow, she knew he wouldn't like that. @Atrice

Immediately, she could see that he had not bought it and she kicked herself. She should have gone with the truth in the first place. Why was this situation so confusing and difficult for her? What was it about this particular man? She had had cruel customers before, those that wanted to hurt her for fun because it was what got them off. But this was somehow different and the difference frightened her. She gave a light gasp of surprise as he pulled her down on top of him, exposing her to everyone with a hand on her chest. She closed her eyes, knowing she could ignore the others if she couldn't see them. She heard him hiss in her ear and she knew that she had no fight left in her, at least not in words. "Yes, dominus," she said quietly, "anything you say." Then he asked her the same question as before and she squeezed her eyes even more. "N-no, dominus. I am not." She hoped he would release her. @Atrice

Deia cast her eyes down demurely as she disrobed, biting her lip in an effort to ground herself. She knew she must look like a fool to him and to the other girls. A whore who had worked for years and was still nervous? They must think she was an idiot. She hadn't noticed the pitying glances of the other girls, hadn't heard their whispers over the past few weeks of "poor thing." She knew she looked foolish, but found she could barely control her nerves right now. The man extended his hand, touching her body with one finger. That wasn't so unusual, but she still didn't love that he was touching her at all. Finally, after an agonizing moment with his finger on her body, he pulled it away and asked her to tell the truth, whether she didn't want him to choose her or touch her. What was her move here? Lie? That would surely be transparent, she was obviously nervous. Or tell the truth, and risk Titus's ire? She decided she'd rather lie. "Of course not, dominus. I am happy to serve whoever wants my services." @Atrice

Deia took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She still wasn't completely over the death of her baby and the trauma of her last brothel, and Titus being her owner wasn't really helping her nerves become any better. Nor was this man, with his cold eyes. He didn't really answer her question, which, she supposed, was his right, but instead told her that she would find out. It would seem she had been chosen again. Normally, she felt a numbness come over her at that realization, which allowed her to detach herself from the situation and therefore survive it, but this time she just felt her blood run cold. Now it seemed he wanted to play games with her, telling her to remove her tunica. Her immediate reaction was to want to argue, tell him to go fuck himself, and pour the amphora of wine all over him. But she couldn't. She could be killed if she acted out like that, and she knew it. Wordlessly, she pulled at the clasps holding the shoulders of her tunica together and let the fabric pool at her feet, trying very hard to forget that there were other people in the room but failing miserably. @Atrice

Early May, 75CE Apparently, the things that rich nobles got up to in Rome differed very little from what went on in Greece. To the girl's chagrin, one of Deia's first assignments as a slave and prostitute at the Elysium was to make an appearance at a low-level noble's home for a party, as eye-candy for those in attendance. Though Deia had to wonder why the noble hadn't sprung for a worker at the Domus Venus; they were apparently more sought after than her companions at the Elysium. The only conclusion was that he was either not as wealthy as he made out to be, or he was cheap but wanted to appear like he had the wealth to spare in order to get a prostitute to stand on a platform for a few hours, and then, perhaps, bed a few of the guests. Time would tell. Also to her annoyance, Deia was responsible for walking to the house herself, accompanied by a couple of the musclemen who guarded the prostitutes at the brothel. She was new to Rome, so the way confused her a great deal, and she was nearly in tears from frustration by the time they got there. She couldn't even read or write her own home language, Greek, let alone Latin. She could speak it, but the locals here were not very friendly. But at last, they arrived and Deia was shown to the main room of the house, where she would be displayed. For the journey, she had worn modest enough clothing, but once she was at the house, it was time to wear what one would expect a prostitute to wear. She was shown to a back room after her tour so that she could change in peace. She thought she was alone, so she sat on the floor, rubbing a hand on her forehead to try to ground herself. This was her life. She had to keep up her appearances. @Chevi

Deia tried not to make eye contact too much with this one. She wasn't sure, but she had heard whispers from the other workers about a man who came here and did evil, twisted things to the most vulnerable girls in the brothel. Could it be this man? Something in his eyes was chilling and she did not like it. His voice was not much better, commenting that he had not seen her before and that she must be new. "Yes, dominus. I only arrived a week or two ago." She finished pouring the wine and stood back, as it seemed he wanted to continue talking to her. She paled immediately at his next words, her smile faltering. "Uhm..." she said quietly, looking around for help. But she was in this alone, none of the others were coming near him now that she was with him. "Well... my recent customers weren't really the type to like it rough, so..." It was true, for the most part. She had had a few that wanted to brutalize her, but she wasn't about to divulge every detail of every customer she'd had so far to this man. "Do... you like it rough, then, dominus?" She tried to infuse confidence into her voice but it really didn't come across very effectively. @Atrice

May, 75CE To some, Titus Aspanius Lupus might seem like an overly cruel master. To Deianira, he was your run-of-the-mill brothel owner, no different than the owner of the brothel she'd been born in or the one she recently vacated. When the man had picked her up at the slave market in Rome, Deia had been at first curious to know what kind of man he was, but the establishment he ran was all she needed to know. Some of the other girls who'd been there longer wished they could work at the Domus Venus instead, because they were all sold so cheaply and Titus allowed men to do terrible things to them, as long as they paid. Deia understood where she was, but what could she do about it? All she could do was try and get by, keep her head down like at her old brothel, and perhaps someday be freed or escape somehow. She had only been here a few weeks and was settling in, more or less. She had seen more customers than she thought was usual, but perhaps that was because she was new and men liked a new toy to play with. Tonight, she was moving around the brothel wearing a skimpy tunica that left little to the imagination. She had not been scooped up yet, so she was helping serve wine to men who were still deciding. She stopped before one such man with her amphora, pouring the wine carefully, lest any spill. "Welcome to the Elysium," she said in accented Latin, plastering a fake smile on her face. "I hope you can find what you are looking for." @Atrice

Caecina was an accomplished rider, but it was never for anything but fun. And when she rode Mirandus, who Hercules reminded her of, it was for a leisurely stroll or trot. Her real race horse was Aurelia, a spirited palomino with a temper and a real attitude problem. Caecina loved both of her horses, though, because they both served different purposes. "You are quite the charioteer. I loved watching you today - the horses may be fabulous but it takes a masterful driver to get them to work together like that!" Caeso relented and let her have an apple, to which she smiled triumphantly. "I won't! I know horses." She placed the apple in her flat palm and offered it to Hercules, who was more than happy to accept it. Then, Caeso offered to take a look at her horse and she smiled. "Oh, I wish you could! Unfortunately, he's not in the city. I keep him at my father's villa. But his name is Mirandus. Perhaps I could bring him to the city some time." She didn't want to stop talking to him, though. This was interesting! "Could you show me the other horses instead?" @Atrice

Caecina shook her head. "No, it's my fault." She was trying not to blame herself too much, though, because she knew that she hadn't made up the rules, she was just trying to follow them. Someone had to be responsible, even if it hurt. It felt good to be held against his chest and she let her worries melt away for a moment. But of course, the real world cannot wait forever. The embrace ended and Marcus spoke, saying he didn't know if it could happen, unless they were betrothed. She blinked a few times, looking down so she could process. Then she looked back up at him. "It would be difficult. You're right. But if it could happen... I would wait for you." But then he seemed dejected, wondering whether it was a dream. "Maybe it is. I don't know." She bit her lip and then sighed. "Perhaps we should just go find Astraea and Silvanus, process all this. I don't know what to think." @Atrice

Bassus commented that she was lucky to have found the kind of relationship with Livia that she had. Aglaea agreed, though the relationship was often in flux, shifting from one dynamic to another. Recently, with Aglaea's discussion of wanting to find someone to love, Livia had seemed supportive, even offering her help to find a suitable slave to settle down with somewhere. But after years of training to understand Livia's thoughts without her having to say much, Aglaea suspected that she wasn't all that supportive of Aglaea having anything else but her mistress to occupy her mind. But Bassus needn't know all that. "I've been blessed with both of my mistresses, actually. When I was very young, my first mistress took me in almost like a daughter and taught me to read and write. It makes it much easier to operate in Rome." The conversation trailed off for a few moments, though, while they entered the bakery. Soon, they were on the curb and Bassus explained that he was a slave once as well. Aglaea supposed that made sense; many of her people in Rome had gotten there because of slavery, but Bassus evidently was free now. She felt a pang of jealousy but ignored it, trying not to be envious. She had to be patient and God would do with her what He planned. "I'm glad your master was good to you. Was he what got you interested in the races?" Aglaea had the sense that Bassus wasn't always open with that information and she felt honored that he had chosen to share it with her. Aglaea watched eagerly as Bassus tried the cake for the first time, smiling as he talked about it. "See? I may not know much about horses, but I can find the best food in Rome." It was a bit of a boast, but meant only in jest. Bassus then went on to discuss Judaea and Aglaea gave an ironic chuckle. "More like flowing with sand and heat. I think our ancestors may have taken a wrong turn in the desert during the forty-year trek." She knew it was a bit sacrilegious, but Judaea wasn't really something she liked to think about, even though it was supposed to be home. "That's a hard question. On one hand, it would be interesting to see if it's how I remember it; I was so young when I left. But at the same time, I think it would be a bit difficult to face my family. If I could even find them, that is." How do you find someone you haven't seen or heard from in twenty years? "Do you ever want to go back to Judaea?" @Beauty

Deianira 21 | February, 54CE | Slave | Elysium Worker | Bisexual | Original | Adelaide Kane Personality. Deia is a damaged person. She has been shunted around for most of her life due to the unfortunate circumstances of her birth, and this gave her a deep-seated sense of insecurity. She struggles to feel safe anywhere, even inside her own mind. For her own self-preservation, she has developed an acute observant strain, noticing even the tiniest details of any place or conversation she is in. Though she is insecure and therefore timid about advocating for herself, she has a surprising strength when it comes to the suffering of others, and a compassion that runs deeper than any damage she has suffered. She may not advocate for herself, but she will certainly do so for someone else. Also because of her insecurity, she is easily pliable by those with more power than she is. She's used to being the omega, the lowest on the totem pole, so she defers to the orders of others. She is good at pretending to be whatever her customers want her to be, but opening up in earnest to those who might want to be her friend is incredibly difficult and would take months of trust building and confidence. To those who get to know Deia, though, she is a genuine and heartfelt person, and has a sense of humor unrivaled by any. Her compassion for others extends even more strongly to her friends and she is fiercely protective of them. She is a good person but has a hard time dealing with her past. Appearance Deia's is a gentle beauty. Her skin is pale, suggesting some northern heritage, but her hair is a very dark brown, matching her almost-black brown eyes, which look like still pools of water. These beautiful, kind eyes are framed by dark lashes. Her mouth is lovely and delicate, often accentuated with lip color to entice customers. Her style of dress depends on the situation; at the brothel, she wears provocative clothes because it is what the customers enjoy. But when she is sent out on errands, she dresses much more modestly, not really one to want to show off outside of her work place. Family Father: Unknown customer of her mother's Mother: A Greek prostitute Siblings: Unknown Spouse: None Children: One stillborn child when she was young Extended family: None Other: Master: Titus Aspanius Lupus History The circumstances of Deianira's birth were not that uncommon. She was the result of a one-time visit between a man and a prostitute, a nine month gestation, and a painful birth that (unfortunately) did not kill mother or child. But Deianira was not meant to have an easy life from the start. She stayed with her mother for the first few months of her life with her mother, until she was weaned off of her milk. Then, her mother became anonymous to her, and Deianira's care went to the nurse of the brothel in Greece. She grew up in the brothel, hearing customers and workers together, seeing things that no child should have to see. She never knew a happy, normal home during those formative years, only that seedy location. When she was too big to tuck away in a corner unnoticed, the owner of the brothel decided to send her away, as she was getting in the way instead of being particularly helpful to anyone. She was sold to an older woman to be a maid in her household when she was about twelve, and she spent the only stable, happy years of her life in that Greek villa, being largely ignored but left alone, to her relief. But when she became eighteen, two events formed the next chapter of her life: her mistress died and her household was broken up, and Deia's looks became undeniable. In the slave market, she was picked up by a brothel owner and began her work as a prostitute. The time in this brothel was difficult. Deia soon learned that as long as she kept her head down and her mouth shut, she would survive, but even doing that sometimes wouldn't prevent her master's ire from being provoked. He was a cruel man and would often beat his workers. Deia managed to survive, but her insecurities were only heightened during this time. After two or so years working there, Deia became accidentally pregnant. She was not unhappy about the development, but hoped it would give her an out from the brothel. But when her time came to give birth, the child never took its first breath. Deia's mind was broken. She only sat or walked listlessly around her room, flatly refusing to see any customers. Finally, her master became fed up with her behavior and sold her at the age of twenty to a traveling slave trader, who brought her to Rome. The change of scenery was welcome and helped Deia to move on from her sadness, or at least tuck it away. She remained with the slave trader (who was not an unkind man) until he deemed her well enough to be put back on the market. Finally, she was purchased by Titus Aspanius Lupus and is now starting work at the Elysium, a broken down and lost girl with no real sense of place. Echo | EST | Discord or PM

Annis listened with disinterest to his musings. She was not much of a business woman, more concerned with doing her job right and earning enough money to buy herself from Longinus. Her mind settled on a disturbing idea: what if Longinus really sold her outright to this man? She didn't like him, that much was clear to her. As cold and heartless as he seemed in just this short interaction, it chilled her to think of what being owned by him would be like. The way that he twirled the knife around appeared as though he was trying to intimidate her again. She was determined not to let him get into her head. She imagined taking the knife back from him and holding it at his throat until he left. That fantasy was enhanced as he made his suggestion. It made sense that the owner of a brothel would have to have some level of perversion, but she was not his to command. She glared at him outright now, still, feeling tension in every muscle. "Why don't you undress, so I can see the body of the man who wants to whore me out? Until you own me, I am not yours to command." Her voice was harsh but it betrayed her nervousness and the slightest note of fear. His attitude up until now, though, made her wonder how exactly he would respond. Particularly with that knife. @Beauty

Marcus's tone was sweet and comforting and Caecina couldn't help but smile at him as he wiped her tear away, though her smile was a bit watery. She reached up to take his hand from her face and held it in both of her hands. "I'm... sorry for ruining the moment. It's like it all just... came crashing down on me at once. It's not you, I hope you know that." He asked her not to cry, so she made a staunch effort to control herself. But what he said next took ownership of her mind. Be her husband? It wasn't like she hadn't thought of it... it would make things so much easier, after all. And they weren't technically siblings, anyway. Instead of answering immediately, she hugged him around the middle, pressing her face into his chest for some measure of comfort. Why should she worry about things she couldn't control? He was here now, big and strong and comforting. After a moment, she pulled away, still holding him, but at an arm's length so she could look up at him. "I wish you could too. And it's not outside the realm of possibilities. But we would have to ask... and I don't want anyone else to know, not yet. I want it to stay special for now. Does that make sense?" @Atrice

How curious to find a man who enjoyed reading like he did, and even more so curious that he wanted to discuss it with her! It was refreshing. "You know, the stories that the Romans tell about their heritage certainly lend insight to how they think of themselves." It helped one understand a culture when one read that culture's literature. Aglaea supposed, though, that all cultures told tales of themselves in order to encourage pride in their culture, not just the Romans. And there was always a hint of the truth in tales. "We should discuss these tales together sometime! I'd love to hear your thoughts on the Odyssey and the Iliad, too. I'm glad to have found someone so interested in the stories I enjoy." Bassus suggested that horses were more afraid of humans than humans were of them and she grinned doubtfully. It was charming that he wanted to see her again, though, and demonstrate such truths to her, so she acquiesced. "If you feel so strongly that you can convince me that an enormous beast like that is scared of me, be my guest! I would love to be proved wrong." She laughed. As she told her story, he grew a little solemn as well, though offering her a smile which did offer a measure of calm to her. His words went straight to her heart, too. Her recognition of the blessings in her life had taken a long time; had Bassus been speaking to the shy, scared seven-year-old she had been when she entered slavery, he would not be so convinced of her strength. But she had tried hard for a long time to rationalize her slavery, so she found herself at a level of acceptance for now. "You are very kind Bassus. I haven't always felt that way. But my mistress has been helpful in that regard, yes. She is almost like a sister to me, since we've been together for so long. Her kindness is one of the reasons I'm so blessed - another mistress might prevent me from practicing my religion entirely." She looked at him for a moment, wondering what his citizenry status was, though she knew that was a rude question to ask. After a moment or two of walking, they reached her desired destination, and she led the way into the bakery, ordering three honey cakes. Once they were received, the pair stepped outside and sat on a curb to enjoy their after-synagogue treat. @Beauty