Liv

I too haven't been active in some time, and much of what has been said resonates with me. Being burnt out, having lost muse, real life growing increasingly more demanding. AeRo has given me a lot during my time here - fun, joy, sadness and excitement through posts, and a sense of community that is very hard to match, especially as few online roleplaying communities are as long-lived as this one. As a writing member, my selfish preference between a reboot and going freeform/sandbox would be the former. I've grown fond of and attached to so many characters here (not just my own), and would like to continue keeping up with them even if the lore and setting have changed a bit. Yet there are some things and elements I would like to see happen that I'm aware are unlikely to, and that's okay - we're humans, not tireless inexhaustible machines. As someone who has opened a post to start a reply and closed it after hours of staring at the screen because nothing is coming out far more times than I would like and each time the feeling I'm letting my fellow members down gets worse, my vote is to go with what is tenable and feasible, not just now but long-term - and the present status quo is neither. AeRo has had many incarnations and iterations over the years, and maybe that's why it has stayed alive for so long. If its next evolution is a more hands-off one and the alternative is the site closing down, then that decision makes sense to me. Ultimately, AeRo is your garden of creation @Gothic, and you've been kind enough to maintain it and let us play in it for all this time without asking for anything in return.

There was all manner of labouring women: some were terrified. Others could hardly wait to meet the being they had carried for nine months. Others still treated it as a task to get over and done with. Melia got the feeling her patient belonged to the latter group and couldn't help but chuckle at Metella's comment. "It will all be worth it when you have your baby in your arms," Melia smiled, conveniently skipping over any possible difficulties. No need to scare a first-time mother, as pragmatic as the red-haired woman appeared to be. It was hard to predict how quickly things would progress, so it was just as well they had all night. As if on cue, the slave from before returned with the requested items and mumbled something about being just outside if anything else was required. Knowing how bloody things could get, Melia couldn't blame her. She gave the room a quick sweeping look, concluding there likely wasn't a birthing chair to be had - maybe the household in general didn't have much use for one. In any case, it was up to the mother to decide how she felt most comfortable. Melia took Metella's hand into her own, trying to inspire confidence in the other woman. "No two births are alike. This is different for every woman and every child. So it's important for me that you are comfortable, so the child will also feel comfortable enough to come out. If you prefer to lie down in bed, that's fine. If you prefer to get down on your hands and knees, that is also fine. If you would rather squat and hold onto something, I will help you through that." And when the pain inevitably became more intense, the one thing that was the same for all births, the contents of at least one of the pyxides would have their moment in the sun, she completed the sentence in her head. @Chevi

Business had been neither great nor terrible. Babies were born every day, and people needed medicine every day, but there were more than enough people in Rome who shared Melia's profession. For the time being she was doing enough to keep a roof over her head, food in her stomach and her supply of necessary materials well-stocked. Word of mouth did not hurt either, although she was more than a little surprised when a senator's slave came calling on her, requesting she attend to one of his fellow servants who was with child. She had not realised news of her trade had reached such lofty ears. As the pair zigzagged through city streets Melia considered the possible consequences of this call. She had more than two reasons not to mess this up - despite mother and child's health being paramount, this was the sort of job that could open a few doors. A wealthy patrician who was sufficiently concerned about his slave's well-being to send for a midwife was bound to have many other slaves, presumably in good health. He would have friends with many slaves of their own too. Perhaps amongst the great servant flock she would one day find her siblings. After countless turns and ups and downs, she found herself being ushered into one of the majestic domi that graced the thirteenth region. Another solicitous slave led Melia to a more modest room where a young woman with red hair as bright as flame and a bulging belly rested on the bed. If she was still in the 'deep breaths' phase rather than 'scream and moan' it was a good sign. After a whispered requested for the other slave to procure clean cloths, honey, hot water and warm olive oil, Melia turned to her patient in a gentle tone and with what she hoped was a calming smile. "Hello. My name is Melia." A slave would probably feel more comfortable with just the one name; this wasn't a stuck-up Roman to whom she had to prove her status. "Your master sent for me, to help you tonight. Is this your first child?" As her lips moved so did her hands, already extracting a series of small pyxides and leather pouches from the bigger bag she carried and setting them on a small table next to the bed. @Chevi (and @Sharpie)

Hey everyone, This is something I should have done a while ago, but it was surprisingly difficult to come to terms with the fact that my inspiration up and left sometime ago. I've tried a number of things to get that spark back but no such luck, so I'll be taking a break from writing for an indeterminate amount of time. You've all been so patient and I'm really sorry I wasn't able to follow up to the level you deserve. That said, I'm hesitant to kill off my characters so they will be temporarily exiting the scene with the gist of it in the spoiler tag. I'll still be hanging round the server so feel free to contact me whether just for a chat or if there's anything you'd like to sort out, and thank you all for allowing me to write with you amazing people!

"For once I find myself pleased that we are in agreement," Titus acknowledged with no mirth to match Attis' good spirits. As friendly as Ragum seemed to be, any burglar seeing a dog bigger than a goat running towards it might question their life decisions before a monster tongue viciously attacked them. "Does it bark at you at all?" he inquired none too innocently. "It sees you all the time, so probably not." Maybe one day Titus would come to visit Longinus and be greeted with news that his friend's body slave had succumbed to one too many of Licky's wet kisses. He answered the question with a sound of assent before elaborating slightly, still stroking a content Ragum. "A girl fetched me some wine. You need to tell whoever's in charge of the amphorae that they need to switch things up a bit, I could swear it's the exact same vintage I had the last time I was here." It was not bad wine by any means, quite the opposite, but either somebody was extraordinarily fond of it or it just happened to be on rotation that day as Fortuna would have it. Yet again Titus agreed with Attis, this time silently. He had never been round dogs this gargantuan to know when they were fully grown. "I could try to ask the man I got him from so you could have an idea... but it's more fun if you find out on your own, wouldn't you say?" he gave Attis a deceptively charming smile before Ragum caught his attention. The dog had presumably had enough of head pats and was now lying down on its back, paws half curled and tail wagging as it flashed them its belly like some unorthodox prostitute. "Is he like this with everybody?" What a trusting dog. It was clearly leading a good life. @Sharpie

Indignation shone in Livia's eyes at the sharp tone Horatia used, not expecting to be scolded as though she were a child and her sister a know-it-all teenager. For once she was honest in confessing her concerns, like she might have done to their mother had she been alive. So much for trying to to appeal to Horatia's humility, of which there was clearly none. Focusing on Faustus again was a welcome distraction, and Livia simply gave her sister an exasperated nod. Did she really mean it? If Horatia had lied with Publius' offspring she could certainly do the same now. But it didn't matter: her son would always be the most adorable baby in Livia's eyes."Yes. Unusual, isn't it?" To think she had dared defy tradition and select a name neither her nor Secundus could find in their family trees. Much to her amazement, her husband had not objected to her suggestion and had even mumbled his approval. Perhaps fatherhood was having a positive effect on him."But it felt fitting. We are indeed very fortunate to have him." She stroked the little boy's cheek fondly, distracting him from the momentous task of trying to fit all his fingers into his tiny mouth. "I can't wait for those days," Livia grinned, already picturing them in her mind's eyes. Would Faustus try to chase after her with his chubby little legs? What would come first, words or steps? Provided he wasn't robbed of them by the gods, and Livia along with him. She peeled her eyes from the baby and stared gravely at her sister for a moment. "I'll hold you to that promise." Since Horatia was on such good terms with the forces that ruled the world of mortals... "After what happened last time, I..." She averted her gaze, willing them to stay dry. No matter how much time had passed, Livia did not think she would ever be able to mention the subject without feeling emotional despite social expectations, nor did she think she would ever be able to put it behind her. It would always hover about in her memories like a faraway cloud on a sunny day. "... I didn't think I would have been able to handle disappointing people again," Livia admitted in a guilty whisper. Had she birthed the child herself she would have rather kept Horatia at arm's length anyway regardless of how caring and supportive her sister was - if things went well, she wanted to learn to know her baby first-hand rather than have matronly wisdom shoved down her ears; if they went wrong, there would be only her own grief to manage and not coddle somebody else's. She took a sip of wine and glanced at her sister's bump, fleetingly wondering if the outcome would be a positive one. "Would you want me to come for you?" Would Horatia want her younger sister to see her at her most vulnerable? Probably not. Livia moved on to a slightly different kind of speculation . gently teasing the other woman. "I imagine Aulus wants another boy, as all men do. What are you hoping for?" @Sara

The horse seemed to calm down as soon as it got what it wanted, leaving Melia to wonder if the chuckle had been directed at it or at her and her ignorance of equine behaviours. Even if it turned out to be the latter it had not sounded unkind, so she opted to chuckle as well. "You're quite right, this isn't a braid," she acknowledged with a strained smile. "But it's all I had time for today." How was the young man to know she had been up until late helping a fishmonger's young wife bring her (very stubborn) first child into the world? But he was removing the tie from his mouth, ready to start... but apparently not without proper introductions. Melia made out the letters without much difficulty, briefly wondering what sort of slave 'Azarion' was - perhaps a stable boy - and how he had ended up there. Seeing it as her own brain had posed the questions so quickly, it was only natural he would want to know the same about her. "I'm Considia Melia. Melia is fine." Maybe one day she would be brave enough to reclaim her birth name, but today was not that day; it wouldn't serve her purpose. "I deal in herbs and medicines," she patted the pouch twice in quick succession, "and I am hoping to expand my customer base. Don't know if that is something that might interest your faction...?" Not 'your master' - as a slave Melia had had enough of those words, not letting her forget even for one second that she was nothing but property without agency. Employing them was seldom her first choice when talking to those still in servitude. @Chevi

For once he found himself in agreement with Attis; 'Licky' was very apt indeed. Ragum too, given how the dog's jowls wrinkled and crinkled and creased and folded like some discarded piece of fabric, but Titus' brand of rather limited creativity was much more in tune with the cheeky body slave's own. "Both suit him," he acknowledged with a nod, watching as Ragum-Licky again used an enormous paw to relieve an itch. "If your slave friend at the door did his job he should," was the curt reply as he slowly reached out a hand to stroke the dog on its gigantic head, wary of any sudden movements that could startle the canine and have it chomp down on said hand. Titus' relationship with Longinus was informal enough that he would essentially let himself in without waiting for a slave to announce his presence to the unwitting host, and for all he knew Longinus was busy redecorating some room with even more eclectic accessories brought from some plundered British village the gods knew where. The dark fur was surprisingly soft. Licky seemed to enjoy it as its foot-long tail started wagging from side to side in typical dog fashion. An amicable giant, then. "He's not a very good guard dog, is he? If this is how he greets strangers..." Not much of a thief deterrent apart from its size- what was this dog good for, then? Despite his doubts, Titus turned to Attis with a less impolite question. "Do you think he's done growing? If he gets any bigger you might have to build him a stall." @Sharpie

The way the young man's gaze stayed trained on her had Melia wondering if he was not entirely convinced by her explanation. Did he suspect her of being some criminal? Denying it would only make him more sceptical, and he hadn't quite accused her of anything yet. She resolved to ignore the look, but not without first admitting to herself there was something funny about the whole image with the tie hanging from his mouth - almost like a child caught red-handed doing something they were not supposed to. The tentative smile that had begun to form on her lips faded into a startled expression as the horse snorted, possibly demanding attention as it touched its nose to its caretaker's face. Was it upset or just impatient? Melia knew too little about horses to tell. "I can do it for you, if you'd like," Melia offered, realising a moment later that he probably wouldn't learn much from somebody else braiding his hair. "Or I could show you how I usually braid mine and you could try it on yours?", she pointed at the messy bun on her head that was very much not a braid but just as practical as one. @Chevi

'Celsus' - wasn't that the wooden Dacian he had traded Longinus for Florus? Not an unreasonable choice: a brute of a man for a brute of a dog. "Hmm," was Titus' disappointed response. "They are certainly a good match in terms of size." Whether the same could be said of their respective tempers remained to be seen. As if it had somehow understood it was the topic of conversation, the dog sprung into motion with surprising agility. Its intentions, albeit friendly, were not those of a sharp mind - yet another point of similarity with its caretaker. With only a few seconds before impact, Titus weighed his options. Kicking the dog would be ill-advised in more ways than one. Taking cover behind Attis would probably be extremely ineffectual as the dog was more than capable of toppling them both. Distracting it would have been nice, but he had no bone or stick to throw in the opposite direction. That left withstanding the crash. Even with mind and body ready, the dog's enthusiastic tackle-greeting nearly knocked the wind out of Titus. A useful experience if any enemies of Rome ever considered using elephants again. He managed to somehow bat the monster's paws away before it succeeded in hugging him and directed it towards Attis, hoping it would choose a new target. The dog barked again and sat on its haunches, apparently expecting something as it looked up at the slave. "Is it always this energetic?" Truth be told it had not done much yet, but the little it had had been intense. "What's it called, by the way?" Something like Polyphemus would suit it. @Sharpie

It was a slightly disappointed Artemon that nodded as his nymph explained she would save her half of the bun for later. He had hoped they could discuss its rustic yet exquisite flavour and that in doing so he might entice her to sample more foods in his company, but her reasoning was perfectly sensible. In fact, now that he thought about it, it was very flattering indeed! "I hope you enjoy it," he mumbled with uncharacteristic shyness. It was the first time in forever that he was the target of such a nice compliment. That hair really was something. Artemon watched as if in a trance as the fair strands moved and bounced in synchrony with their owner's movements - he could swear they did a little happy dance of their own when she laughed! Or that might have been his heart fluttering instead. "Wow!" he let out, unable to hide his awe. It was not a wig, could you believe that?! Artemon was sorely tempted to bring his clean(er) hand to a silvery golden lock and give it a good tug, but the lady would not appreciate that at all. Her slaves would probably beat him up if he even tried. What a shame it was not to be able to touch it! "So your ancestors had the same hair colour? Is it common amongst people from the north?" He wasn't quite sure where or what Noricum was - all these Roman city names sounded the same anyway, and 'the north' was as faraway a concept to him as the source of the Nile: he knew it existed somewhere but that was about it. "It is not only beautiful, but very practical as well! I imagine lice are much easier to detect, aren't they?" Like dark stains on a white toga! "Lice are a big problem in Egypt, lots of people wear wigs instead," he commented with the most serious of looks before finishing up his half of the bun and licking blackcurrant juice off his fingers. "I remember when I was little one of my sisters got lice, my mother had her hair all shaved off before they spread to the rest of us." Unconsciously, Artemon ran a sticky hand through his own unruly mop. No lice there! At least not as far as Artemon was able to tell - sure, his scalp itched every now and then, but it was mostly due to sweat what with how hard Gallus worked him... or so he thought. @David

It seemed to Melia she had caught the young man unawares, going by the way his gaze shifted from her to the horse to her again. He did not look particularly alarmed or hostile, though, which she took as a good sign. Yet he did not immediately question her presence - perhaps he did not speak Latin, although he seemed to understand it. Even without words he made a good point: braiding hair was even harder with one's hands full. "Oh, this..." Melia put the herbs back into the pouch with slow movements so both human and horse could see she wasn't hiding anything nefarious in it. "It's medicine." She did not elaborate further, figuring that if the information was of interest to the young man he would pick up on it. Either way, it couldn't hurt to act friendly towards him; he could be Melia's in to the faction, whatever his actual role was. "I meant with your hair," she gestured at his untamed forelock. Overall it did seem long enough that it would get in his way, bobbing before his eyes like a patchy curtain. "Are you looking to braid it? Or tie it?" With the piece of leather in his mouth he could do either. @Chevi

Name: LivDiscord: liv#0609

Preposterous. Livia nearly snorted at the blatant falsehood, but curbed the instinct just in time to produce a less obviously doubtful reaction. "Silphium is said to help with such plans, although I imagine it is no obstacle for the gods' will if they have other designs," she countered, holding Horatia's gaze as though she had not got the message. She was no little girl to be scolded anymore, not even by a consul's wife. Besides, what could a letter have changed? Absolutely nothing other than giving Livia more time to digest the news; her response would still have been the same. "No, I suppose you're not. The older the mother is the harder it becomes for both, isn't it?" Livia mused, managing to infuse her tone with some sympathy for Horatia's self-inflicted situation. "Does it not scare you?" She took her sister's hands into her own, genuinely wondering if Horatia's hubris made her unafraid of the risks childbirth at any age entailed. Would the gods stand for it? Or did they perhaps support it? "That you might leave Titus and Calpurnia bereft just as they approach adulthood and will need your guidance?" Livia's eyes grew moist, though not out of concern for her niece and nephew - it was the never-quite-healed sadness of having been robbed of Livia the elder's presence for her own milestones and the unsuitability of the two substitutes: Aglaea present and faithful until she wasn't and Horatia too full of self-importance. She let go of her sister's hands, all of a suddent fed up with the contact. It was all too easy to shift focus back to the small form that gurgled at the hand touching his cheek, making Livia grin despite herself. "Isn't he just?" He was beautiful, yes, but most importantly, he was hers, Secundus be damned. The outburst of emotion from Horatia was unexpected, confusing Livia with its genuineness and leaving her to stare wide-eyed at her sister before her hand took on a mind of its own and briefly clasped Horatia's mid-air as it retreated. "Thank you," she swallowed the lump in her throat that had appeared out of nowhere before it could grow any bigger. An enraptured glance at the little boy confirmed Horatia's statement, and Livia found herself chuckling along. "They looked like rosy little frogs when they were babies, it's not hard to be more handsome than that!" Truth be told, Faustus had also looked a little squashed in his first few days of life, but had thankfully gained a cuter and chubbier mien quickly - not that Livia would ever admit to having thought of her son in such an undignified way. The candid atmosphere was disturbed by the slave from earlier rushing in with platters of fruit, cheese and olives, followed by another diligent slave carrying bread and wine. They were swiftly dismissed much to their relief, but knew not to wander too far in case they were needed again. Livia pensively eyed an olive for a few seconds before finally plucking it and popping it into her mouth. "When does it get better?" The look she gave Horatia was one of anxiety. "When do you stop fearing he's going to catch a fever and die, or stop breathing in his sleep, or get dysentery, or anything, really? How do you know he will be fine?" It was hard to imagine the bouncy baby next to them as anything but healthy, but Livia knew how quickly things could change. For the first time she acknowledged Horatia's bump with no malice, her gaze descending for a moment before meeting her sister's blue eyes again. "Aren't you afraid something won't be right?" Why subject oneself to that torture again after two healthy and mostly grown children? @Sara

Artemon had just begun nodding in response when he caught himself again. The problem with being a naturally very expressive person was that it was hard to remember not to act his usual way whilst sitting in a chair with a barber's blades mere millimetres from his flesh. "No problem!" he chirped, trying to sit very still as Barbatius' body came into view - he did not want to leave the shop with lopsided hair. "What would happen to the Reds if everyone liked the Whites, eh?" For once Artemon managed to stop a shrug in time, and he beamed with pride before acknowledging his new barber friend was probably not used to socialising with the, ah, not wealthy or comfortable. "I understand. You prefer to make friends with people of higher station and heavier purses. From one businessman to another, I cannot fault you for it!" His blue eyes shone with seriousness and he would have clasped Barbatius' hands for emphasis had they been free rather than about to snuff the life out of his stubborn and overgrown curls. He was good at obeying, and so he closed his eyes like the other man suggested. Ending up with an eyelash in your eye was painful enough that he had no desire to find out if it would be any worse with hair. "Speaking of business, it must have taken you some time to build your clientele. How long have you been established here?" Hopefully this line of questioning would segue into an opportunity to enquire about patronage and investments; yet before Artemon could formulate the next question in his head, a voice coming from outside interrupted his thoughts unceremoniously. "Hello? Is this the barbershop of Marcus Barbatius?" Great. Now it wasn't just Artemon's thoughts that had been interrupted - his chance to conduct self-serving research was most likely gone. Unable to stifle a disappointed sigh, he opened his eyes again, barely registering that the quiet slave had moved towards the door. "It seems like your skills are in high demand today," Artemon commented in a sulky tone, knowing perfectly well this was to be expected but wanting to feel all posh and special for just a little longer. @Atrice