Liv

Bummer. Longinus hadn't taken the bait, but Titus did not lose heart; instead, he rewarded his friend's motion of confidence with his best and most heartfelt showing of the digitus impudicus - a gesture that would come to be known in modern times as flipping the bird.

Nevertheless, he quickly dropped it out of respect while the other man elaborated on what had transpired with his bastard. The more he heard, the more bewildered Titus grew. Two years and still no trace of the slave - could he have been ordered killed and not just sold? Longinus was used to seeing things from a myriad perspectives, as any good commander and strategist would be: he may already have considered this possibility. "By Mars, not even the Greeks could've come up with a story like this. Are you still looking for him?" He elected to make no further comments about the sneaky wench his friend had for a mother, as he might say something he came to regret and ruin the friendship. 

And of course the harpies and vultures of Rome would have already set their sights on Longinus. Remarriage was expected at some point, but not even two months had gone by since Antonia's passing; unless Longinus were dead set on getting his daughter a mother figure as quickly as possible, Titus didn't see it happening before the new year. "Bet your house'll be swarmed by single ladies of good standing or their representatives the day you do away with that beard. Hell, you can even be like Paris and choose the most beautiful. At least you'll have something nice to look at in the mornings."

The two sat in agreeable silence, and despite the seriousness of the subject, Titus couldn't help but smile a little as he brought the cup to his lips and drank some more. Misery loved company, and it was sad yet comforting that Longinus was struggling with precisely the same decisions. "That's exactly it. And those old buggers will outlive you and me," he chuckled mirthlessly and took another swig of wine. "The senate meetings aren't the worst part for me. You can always just think about something else. It's not like they pay attention to what you say anyway, we're just spring chickens to them."

Titus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. What route, indeed? "I don't know," he confessed, shaking his head. "One day I wake up and think I've made up my mind, but when I go to bed at night I've come to the opposite conclusion. I almost wish Quintus Caesar would drop another term on my lap and make the decision for me." His goblet was now empty, but he didn't call for the slave just yet. "On the other hand, praetor has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? Propraetor sounds even better. And I don't have to tell you what comes after that, Longinus."

Two claps later, the slave came and went with practised efficiency, leaving two full goblets as the only evidence she'd even been there. Titus didn't waste time in taking a new sip.

"How about your plan?"

@Sara

His slave seemed elated at her new task, which was certainly a plus. Whether that was due to genuine fondness for children or to some misguided mental sandcastle remained to be seen, but Titus reckoned he'd find out within the next few weeks if she didn't screw it up. However, he needed to lay down some ground rules before she got too excited.

"Good. I like your enthusiasm. You're going to need all of it, Valeriana's got a lot of energy." Understatement of the year, Titus. "Please try to keep her away from your domina's cosmetics, will you?" The bloody things were far too expensive for a three-year-old to be getting her hands, mouth, nose, basically her whole face, on them. "There's two things you need to keep in mind, though." Titus held up two fingers to make sure the girl was following. "First: you're not allowed to take her out of the house. I don't trust you not to get lost." If she was indeed just getting lost and not going on reconnaissance missions whilst planning an escape... Not to mention the oddballs or criminals they could come across with ideas of theft, kidnapping or worse. The dangers were simply too great.

"Second: dim Brittonig. Dim ond Lladin¹." Titus was no longer as fluent as he'd once been, but he still managed a simple phrase like that. Even if Nymphias spoke another dialect, she should be able to understand him just fine and realise how serious he was about it. There would be no room for misunderstandings - the gods knew his daughter had no need to learn yet another pig language, thank you very much. "Don't worry about how well or badly you speak it, she's got other people to learn from. But don't let me catch you speaking to Valeriana in any other language than Latin, all right?" Verbalising an eventual punishment was hardly worth it; the slave would have already learned it was implied if orders were not correctly followed.

Now that the Briton knew exactly what not to do, Titus allowed himself to relax a little and indulge his curiosity; he knew practically nothing of Nymphias but her name, origin, and that she was a relatively fresh catch - part of the reason why she had been so cheap, as his secretary had gleefully informed him. "Were you learning from a midwife?" Those would have been skills worth developing, even in Rome. "Or just looking after your siblings?"

_________

¹ - 'No Brittonic. Only Latin.' in Welsh

@Beauty

"I love it when you talk dirty to me, legatus. It turns me on," Titus said it in a sultry tone with a straight face, but, like before, the serious façade stayed in place for only mere moments before crumbling away into a guffaw. "Let me do you a favour and teach you some Dacian. When you meet someone for the first time, you introduce yourself with 'e dua karin'¹. Then to say goodbye it's 'më thith'²." This time he was not betrayed by a case of unstoppable mirth and hoped his performance was enough to make Longinus fall for it. "But thanks, it is pretty good wine." So good that he had to wash the sausage flavour off of his mouth with another swig, although the sudden clap on his shoulder nearly made him spill it. He gave Longinus an exasperated look; the vintage was too good to let the floor stones sample it.

He leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees. "Wait. She did what?!" The incredulity showed in his voice. Many Roman matrons were very set in their ways, but this... this was pure disrespect. Bastard or not, the slave had not been her property to sell. And with Longinus being paterfamilias, the offence was even greater. "When did this happen? Have you recovered him?" Titus exhaled heavily and bit the inside of his lip, wondering if he should say what he really was thinking. 

He did.

"And you'd leave your daughter with someone who does this? How is your mother better? The next time you came back, she'd have married Cassia off to some ancient fellow old enough to be your father!" How was Longinus not outraged? Had it happened so long ago that anger had subsided? Titus shook his head, half in disgust, half in disbelief. The nerve of the woman!

It took him a minute or two to calm down, and Longinus' squeeze on his shoulder was reciprocated  with a light smack on the other's back. "I was before you told me this. Not a dull moment in your life, it seems." Mimicking his friend, Titus too sipped at his wine thoughtfully. It'd be better to just come out and say it. With any luck, Longinus would have similar worries of his own.

"I feel like I'm at a crossroads. To do what I want, or what I should?" His gaze was once more trained on the wine inside his goblet, as if it held the answer to his predicament. "If it were just me, I'd stay with the legions until I died. But it's not just me.  And there's always the risk of being ordered around by someone less able than yourself - you of all people know what that feels like, Longinus." The wine swirled around, drawing circular patterns on the smooth silver. "But dealing with politicians is just fighting a different kind of enemy, I guess," he concluded with despondence.

____

^{1 - "I love dick" in Albanian
2 - "Suck me" in Albanian}

@Sara

Hearing Longinus' poor excuse, Titus couldn't help but roll his eyes. "You're trying to impress the whole of fucking Rome, genius. If you want to be in control, you've got to look and act like it." Whether it was tough love the other soldier needed Titus did not know, but he wanted to give the strategy a shot before eventually scrapping it for a new one - or leaving it well enough alone, which he probably should do. Maybe Longinus did not feel like he could really open up to Titus about his sorrow... The thought deflated him. Were they truly such good friends, if that turned out to be the case? Preferring to avoid going down that train of thought, he distracted himself with another gulp of wine. 

"My friend, let none of your desires go unsatisfied while you're in this house. More wine it is," and with these words Titus clapped twice to call the slave who would have been sitting just outside. Within seconds the woman came, filled the goblets again, and retreated back to wherever she had been waiting. "What was the bluey word for wine again? 'Gwin' or something like that?" Sluggish memory was one of the things that let Titus know he was getting old. Stiff muscles at random times of the day were another, and he shifted to a more comfortable position. "I still remember 'twll dy din di'¹, though." Across all languages, profanity always came first and left last.

It's was Titus' turn to sigh. A new round of picking his brains, but this time out loud and with a new soundboard - which might actually be for the best; if anyone understood his current predicament, it was Longinus. "We've been well," he shrugged. "Can't really complain. My youngest wasn't happy about the move at all," Titus chuckled, remembering how she tied herself to a large chestnut tree with rope she'd discovered the gods knew where and declared she would not go to Rome. "She's not old enough to remember any other home than Drobeta, and she was used to running around freely. Climbing trees and looking for squirrels with Publius. It's obviously a bit different here..." Even if he ordered some trees planted, the saplings wouldn't mature for many years, and fully-grown trees did not always take to the new soil. He'd tried to make do with the nearby gardens of Sallust - one of the reasons he had decided to buy this particular house -, but despite their lush vegetation, it wasn't quite the same. "Their Dacian's a lot better than mine, though. Kids truly are like sponges," Titus mused, shoving a tiny sausage into his mouth.

"The other two seem pleased to be back. And Valeria... well, she's the kind of person who can make herself at home anywhere." His wife seemed to have enjoyed their time in the province, in spite of the lack of cultural stimulation. "My father-in-law, on the other hand, was ecstatic that we came back, although you'd never tell by looking at him." In his old age, Publius Valerius Flaccus seemed as emotive as a stone; even a marble statue showed more animation.  "I think he was afraid of dying without getting to say goodbye to Valeria."

He shot Longinus a jocose look. "Personally, I'd rather raise kids in Dacia than in Britannia. You'd take Cassia with you, right?"

______

¹ - since I couldn't find any online sources for Old Brythonic, I went with Modern Welsh lol

@Sara

Longinus made a fair point about the sodden clothes; the damned island was so wet that during his time there, Titus nearly always woke up surprised that no mushrooms were growing between his toes yet. Even  in the summer, rain had never been more than a day or two away, and in the winter the wet cold would seep into men's bones and drain them of their strength. "If you kept your hair shorter like a proper soldier it wouldn't be windswept" he quipped in response, taking another leisurely swig of his wine. "Seriously, if you're ever in need of a good cut, let me know. My brother has an amazing tonsor, the man could even do away with your arse hair without you noticing." The playful tone and crude words belied the worry Titus felt for his friend; the formal mourning rituals may now be in the past, but the loss was still recent and the wound caused by absence raw. 

He understood well why the other man admitted to boredom. Like Alexander, it was the thrill of the unknown that beckoned to them, excited them - not the paperwork and bureaucracy of enacting taxes and tallying property in a peaceful province; that was safe and provided opportunities for self-enrichment, but it was also oh so very tedious. Titus busied himself chewing on a piece of sharp Tolosian cheese as Longinus talked, but as he swallowed, his eyebrows scrunched up in mock offense.

"Don't even think about it! I left the Claudia in the best shape of their lives, don't want you to go and ruin all my hard work." He managed to keep a serious face for all of five seconds, then roared with laughter at the pretense. While it was true that he had grown fond on the men during their shared time in the province, they would be in very capable hands if Longinus were to take over their command. 

Leaning back in his seat, Titus gazed at the inside of his goblet pensively as he rotated it in his hand. It was still half full. "It was not bad, actually. The natives are a feisty people, very possessive of their land. Skirmishes all the time, even in places we thought were pacified." He bit his lip, remembering one such occasion where a small group of Dacians had managed to take over a hill fort and eliminate the best part of a century before relief forces could exact revenge on them. "They'll probably give us trouble for years to come," he opined with a predatory glint in his eyes. "Otherwise, good place. The soil is fertile, and there's plenty of mines. Gold, copper, salt...  Though you'll have to fight the tribes for them. But all in all, I find them more civilised than the Britons. Oh, and the weather is much better." 

Titus knocked back some more wine and pointed his chin at the tray with food. "Not hungry?"

@Sara

As soon as one of the slaves announced the arrival of their visitors, Titus shot from his seat, restless with anticipation. Welcoming guests had always been a somewhat morose task, but exceptions were accorded when it was a dear friend who came knocking, rather than someone looking for a handout. His memory couldn't quite place when he last had socialised with Lucius Cassius Longinus with plenty of time to spare, but that was about to change, and he beamed with pleasure as his friend and his young daughter were brought into the atrium by another servant.

He returned Longinus' hearty embrace with one of his own, clapping the other man on the back with vigour a few times. His erstwhile companion had changed little, beard and long hair not withstanding; there may be deeper lines on his forehead and around his eyes, but he still carried himself as tall and strong as he had done in their twenties, a decade before. 

"Hello, Cassia. You've grown a lot since I last saw you." He bent down to greet the child at her eye level, hoping it would put her a bit more at ease, but it didn't quite seem to work. Fortunately, someone else came to the rescue. At the mention of his name, Publius came out from hiding behind a stucco column and made a beeline for the guests. "I definitely am, sir!" he replied with excitement. A quick exchange of looks and nods with Titus and the boy took his new playmate by the arm, pulling her off to another room. "Do you wanna look at my bug collection? I've got butterflies too!" And off the two went, followed by Cassia's nurse.

"My condolences about your wife. What a dreadful thing to happen," he commented somberly. It must have been a shock for little Cassia to lose her mother like that; no wonder she was quiet and withdrawn. And Longinus, who certainly did try to appear cheerful in spite of his mourning beard, must still be in a stage of deep grief. In an attempt to lighten the mood, Titus snapped his finger at an attending slave, who quickly disappeared into the house.

He put an arm around Longinus' broad shoulders and showed him around the impluvium and into the tablinum, where they would have more privacy and protection from the biting November winds. "You finally got tired of those Britons, eh? I was starting to think you'd never leave!" As soon as they were seated, the slave from before came in bearing a tray of cheeses and cured meats, along with a fine silver wine jug and two matching goblets. "Alban, 63 vintage," Titus informed with a smirk as the slave poured their drinks. "If you can still appreciate decent Roman wine after years of that piss mead the blueys brew, that is." He gestured for Longinus to help himself to the food and drink and took a sip from his cup. The wine was exactly as expected: sweet and velvety.

"It's been far too long since we last sat and talked like this. Though I must say I'm surprised you're still here- it's been what, two years? Have you grown soft?" Titus chuckled, helping himself to a thin slice of smoked ham.

@Sara

Omg @Sara, I was perusing Longinus' app to see what we could do with him and Titus! Great minds think alike 

Begrudging comrades turned friends with a splash of jealousy on Titus' side sounds very interesting, mind if I go ahead and PM you?

From the gladiator's words, Clio realised they would not see eye to eye on the subject at hand, probably not ever. Since he had been born free, he would most likely cling to his memories of those days and cherish them until the day he died. It boggled her mind, how he had witnessed his people and his land ravaged by Rome's insatiable hunger for expansion, and yet his spirit had not surrendered to the unquestionable superiority of their ways. He had seen first hand that there was no hope of winning.

His druids and the Greco-Roman cult, at least, held common ground when it came to the spirit prevailing eternal. Despite her sour mood, Clio did not miss the opportunity to educate the Briton - and yes, to provoke him in retaliation for having made her open Pandora's box under the guise of harmless questions.

"No spirit leaves the meadows. If we meet there, then you cannot join a new body." A sardonic smile played on her lips. "So if that's your goal, make sure you have no coin for Charon when you leave this world."

She started to walk away with small but decisive steps, but came to a sudden halt when it registered that she was lacking a very important piece of information. Clio turned around abruptly, a serious expression on her dark face. "What is your name?"

@Polarity

It was amusing to watch his slave's expression go from anxious to self-satisfied to fearful to relieved, though Titus kept his own carefully blank. The girl seemed to have understood what was expected of her and was smart enough not to try and explain away her detours with futile excuses, leaving him with a positive impression. She'd even raised her voice as he'd asked, needing no further prompting. If she stayed respectful and obedient, her life in the household had all the potential to be a tranquil one.

"That's good to know. You don't have to lie, though," he said with a chuckle, unfolding his arms and letting them hang at his sides. He thought Rome was indeed a very nice place and not at all like dreary Britannia with its lunatic priests and pesky weather, but no matter how magnificent the eternal city would appear to a new slave, it wasn't 'home' yet, and 'home' was best.  That was why Romans and barbarians alike fought so fiercely in the name of 'home'. "We both know which place you like best... But I hope you'll change your mind in time. This is a city like no other." Not even Alexandria could compare.

The Briton's reasoning was sound and added to Titus' opinion of her. And this particular problem had an easy resolution: practice, practice, practice. "That can certainly be arranged." Titus tapped his chin lightly in fake contemplation; an idea had come into his mind almost as soon as the slave had finished speaking.

A sly smile tugged at his lips. "Starting tomorrow, you'll be minding Valeriana in the afternoon. I'll tell Betua about it so she knows you won't be in the kitchens as much." What better than to learn the language from a young child? Simple words, simple grammar, and kids that age were brutally honest when it came to pointing out mistakes. Plus, the young Briton would get to learn some Roman habits and traditions alongside his youngest daughter, not to mention the quirks of his little family. "I take it you have some experience with children?" Surely she'd cared for younger siblings or nieces and nephews before... probably.

@Beauty

Helenus' reply made Clio purse her lips in displeasure. Was he being daft on purpose, or just acting that way so she would write him off as harmless?  "You might not tell a soul, but I'm still not convinced the walls in this place don't have eyes and ears," she explained in a clipped tone. It was not outside the realm of possibility for another capsarius to have witnessed the meeting and do some identity digging with blackmail as their purpose, and if such an unfortunate thing came to happen, then Clio could be secretly relieved that nothing more had happened while being able to justify the faux-pas to her mistress with being deceived. "I guess we'll find out in the coming weeks." 

As they made their way back up to the bathing areas, colourful thoughts took the forefront of Clio's mind. How long had it been since the last time she'd acted on impulses like this? Able to to initiate something of her own will, not because she was ordered to, and with someone of equal standing to boot. Today's visit would be one to remember for some time, of that she was sure.

Just before they reached the apodyterium again, Clio stopped abruptly and turned around. "Do you..." Her voice was a whisper and her eyes darted nervously between his own and their surroundings, constantly making sure they were safe from prying years. "Do you ever leave this place? Like, run errands outside?"

@Atrice

In the safety of the tent, the foreigner seemed to relax. The thick fabric around them shielded them from the sounds, sights and smells from the streets, and colourful combs, hairpins and headbands provided a welcome distraction that made it easy to forget for a moment that someone was possibly following them (although Clio only by association). 

Clio let go of the girl's wrist and went to greet the shopkeeper. Usually the two of them conversed in Greek, but this time, for the sake of her new acquaintance, she would stick to the local tongue. Going by what she had seen and heard so far, Clio didn't think the other female had any knowledge of the Hellenic language, and might suddenly assume the new setting was part of some far-fetched kidnapping plot. If she were to panic, the Egyptian's wares could end up suffering, and that would not be good.

"Salve, Mersis. " The old man returned her greeting with one of his own in heavily accented Latin. "I brought a new friend today." Though it was not the truth, for she and the girl had just met, Clio reckoned it would make the other two less suspicious of each other.

The girl asked an innocent enough question, but Clio's history did not allowed her to be unbiased in answering it. "Oh, they're pigs! They will tell you they love you, but betray you at the first opportunity! All they want is a warm body to keep them company in bed, and the gods forbid you actually have a mind of your own and use it! They think we women are as stupid as they are. Fools, the whole lot of them!" The outburst had come out a lot more emotional than originally intended, and in the middle of her rant Clio had absentmindedly picked up a wooden pin that was now on the verge of snapping under the pressure of her fingers. Catching herself, she let the pin drop back onto the rack as if it burned. Destroying merchandise was not the way to do business.

"Huh?" Clio was caught by surprise by the girl's gesture. Why would she do something like that? They were strangers to each other. Clio didn't feel she deserved this kindness, but was afraid that refusing the gift might offend the blonde. "Thank you, that's.... very kind of you." It was only after expressing her gratitude that the rest of the girl's comment it registered. So she didn't look pretty on her own?! She wasn't capable of attracting handsome men without the stupid object adorning her hair?! Her mood soured immediately, and it showed in her curt reply. "Yeah, maybe. Then he'd buy me and free me and marry me and we'd be happy forever."

She went up to the girl and carefully scrutinised the ornament from a short distance. It was beautiful, and the colour would contrast wonderfully with her black hair. Domina might like it, although she would ask about its provenience. Against her own advice, Clio grabbed a lock of her own hair and brought it down to stand against the ornament. The colour was really something...

"But why aren't you buying something for yourself, though? You know, to make you look pretty." Hmph. Take that.

@Beauty

Hi Dan!

So nice to meet you  Proboards was the first roleplay platform I was on, some 15 years ago (and now I feel old lol).  What genre(s) were you active in, back in the day?

Looking forward to interacting with you and your character!

Being hunched over a bunch of letters was never particularly fun or comfortable, but even less so when the majority of said letters were thinly-disguised requests for loans, or outright beggary. Did they all think he'd single-handedly exhausted the gold mines in Dacia? Muttering a string of expletives under his breath, he rolled a few papyri together and fed them to the fireplace one passus to his left with an easy throw. Concentration had abandoned him already, and perseverance was starting to fail too. Only boredom remained, and it was taking over like an army of locusts. Fortunately, he'd foreseen this, and had sent for the new Briton slave so that he would have an excuse to interrupt the mind-numbing task. There were a few things he wanted to take up with her, too - bad habits needed to be expunged before they settled for good.

And there she was, stiff as a pilum and eyes like a little mouse scampering through an open field. The girl looked scared, but that didn't detract from her beauty, Titus allowed himself to note. Her golden hair was rather captivating, as were her big green eyes; such a combination of features was not a naturally common one in the heart of the empire. At any of the brothels, she would have fetched a hefty sum. As it was, it was magnanimity Titus felt towards her, rather than lust: her skin had taken on a healthier hue thanks to the strong Roman sun, her plain clothes were clean and in good condition, and she was still undeniably capable of self-grooming. A depressed slave was like a contagious illness: spreading their nasty humours all around and difficult to heal, not to mention a waste of good coin - but she had not lost the will to live and seemed to be adapting relatively well to her new life. 

"You came quickly. Good," he praised, eyeing her approvingly. "Oh, and for your reference from this moment on, you'll have to speak up," Titus added as he pointed to his scarred ear. Truthfully, the old injury had not affected his hearing on the right side that badly, but he didn't care much for whispering slaves, and he certainly did not care at all to read their lips. What would her reaction be if he told her the scar was the handiwork of one of her countrymen? Would she feel vindicated, or anxious that she would suffer punishment for the actions of another? Feeling lenient yet again, he decided to share the piece of information some other time.

"So. I've been told you're a quick learner. Your Latin's improving, and Betua's satisfied with your help in the kitchens." Getting a compliment out of the Gallic cook was no easy feat, as the old woman was infamously known within the household for being as harsh with her words to fellow slaves as she was gifted amongst pots and pans. He smiled a little. "Seems like you've been doing a good job. I want you to keep it up."

Then he stood up from the stool and walked over to her as the smile morphed into a frown, folding his arms across his chest as he stopped just under an arm's length from the slave. He could easily reach out and slap her across the cheek if he wanted to; her face was at just the perfect height to do it, too.

"However," Titus started in a steely tone, "I've also been told about your little escapades. I don't know if your sense of direction is really that terrible that you get lost all the time, or if you think you can make a fool out of everyone in this house and make a run for it. For your sake, I sincerely hope it's the former." Intimidation was a powerful and versatile tool, one  he'd diligently honed over the years. It worked on foreign chieftains as well as trained Roman soldiers, and would probably make the pretty slave's heart leap right out of her mouth. It was paramount that his point got across to her.

"I don't think I need to tell you it shan't happen again, do I?" He raised an eyebrow as if expecting a reply, but quickly carried on without waiting for one. "Because if it does, you'll be sticking to the kitchens for a very long time. No more errands outside. Have I made myself clear?" Titus cocked his head to the side, this time actually wanting a response.

With that out of the way, he relaxed his posture and let his shoulders droop a little. "Now that we've got an understanding, I'd like to know what you make of your new life. How are the others treating you? Has anyone been mean?"

Maybe he shouldn't be letting her off the hook so easily; many masters certainly wouldn't. But tugging at Titus' heartstrings, however unconsciously, was the fact that the girl was only a couple of years older than his own daughter, still navigating the space between child and woman with uncertainty... and first-hand experience told him a little rebellion was to be expected.

@Beauty

Truth be told, the girl was objectively very pretty, so it was no wonder she had attracted the attention of some loser that got off on following women around.  Maybe men were bolder wherever this beautiful stranger came from, and walked right up to the women they were interested in and stated their intentions... Or maybe they were all eunuchs, like the priests of Cybele. (Somehow, that last hypothesis didn't seem so probable.)

The blonde explained herself as they walked, and Clio couldn't help but roll her eyes in disbelief. How could anyone be so absent-minded, so careless, in Rome of all places? Clio couldn't quite tell if the girl was a bit daft, or just young and innocent. The latter was fixable, the former not so much. "Well, if you walk around looking distracted, you'll be an easy target. For perverts and pickpockets and politicians, at least," she chided gently. Kidnappings were not so common among the lower classes - who could afford the ransom? Then again, the girl could very well be a rich foreigner... but Clio's gut feeling told her that wasn't it.

"Hmm, people usually don't get kidnapped unless they're from a wealthy family. Is that your case?" Clio turned her head to give the girl an inquisitive look. There could be some previous bad experience at play, with how worried she had sounded. But now the tent was within sight, and they would be safe there. Clio was about to announce this good news when the girl's spontaneous outburst made her chuckle at first, and then burst out laughing. Here was something they could agree on!

"Yes, they are. And wait until you meet a Greek, they're a lot worse," the dark-haired slave commented, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye with the back of her free hand. The kohl that, as usual, lined her brown eyes must be fairly smudged now, but with some luck the merchant would have a mirror to lend her for a few seconds.

"Right, here we are!" With those words, Clio bent under the flap of a small beige tent and dragged the girl inside by the wrist. The owner, a scrawny Egyptian with a thin white beard, frowned at the pair before recognising Clio and smiling. It looked like it was just the three of them inside.

@Beauty

The young man drew his strength from his family bonds, apparently. Whether he fought to make them proud, or in hopes of buying his freedom - or both - didn't really concern Clio, but she could appreciate his resolve from a distance, as one would watch an ant hard at work and conclude that the little creature was making a worthy effort. She could also hope his sisters and mother still lived, for his sake. "I'm sorry to hear that. I hope they did not suffer." The gladiator surely felt he had some very big shoes to fill.

"I pray that you will be reunited with your relatives some day. Until then, keep doing your best." Otherwise dominus will have you out of here sooner than you can say Ave Caesar, she neglected to add out loud. 

He almost sounded confused as he posed his questions. Could he really not fathom that they were of two minds on the subject? When Clio replied, it was in an exasperated tone."Freedom? No," she shook her head, nearly ridiculing the notion. "Freedom is difficult! Your relatives die, you're in debt, you've got to play these absurd political games, and  worry about food and shelter, and about money, and-- well, about everything!" There was a hint of breathlessness at the end, betraying the strong feelings the enquiry had aroused. "And what for? What good will it do you? You're never really free to choose your own path anyway! Want a big house and dormice for dinner? You can't, because you're too fucking poor!"

Yes, life was better here. Yes, her 'Roman family' was better. They kept her clothed and fed and warm and dry, and treated her well. Freedom was a pretty illusion and butterfly kisses and oil lamps going out and finding herself up for sale again, at the market like cattle. Freedom was cursing that bloody lying Greek until there was no more spit in her mouth. Freedom was a disappointment and not worth the heartbreak. "I can see my family when we all meet again in the Asphodel meadows." Clio did not sulk often, but the gladiator had managed to put her in quite a state. Gratulationes.

"It's no use dwelling on the past, on the whens and ifs. You've got to look ahead. Shed your skin like a snake, or you can't grow. You'll just... stagnate. And suffocate." 

She gave him a heavy look - laden with sorrow, pity, hurt, frustration , and who knew what else - and exhaled heavily. The whole situation now felt like a waste of time, and her charitable disposition was all but gone. "If you're done interrogating me, I've got places to be."

@Polarity

Since he could move his lame leg like that, near or even complete recovery might be in the cards. That would certainly increase his value, not to mention odds of success. With appropriate exercise and treatment and under doctore's careful supervision, his condition should continue to improve. "Indeed, it does," Clio agreed.

Maybe her advice, though well-intentioned, was not what the Briton had hoped to hear. Yes, the most memorable gladiators were those who fought well and put on a show, but he was only starting out, hadn't even participated in his first games yet. His first and foremost goal should be to hold out long enough to come back to the ludus in one piece at the end of the day. Over the years in this household, Clio had seen more than one cocky gladiator meet an early death in the arena, betrayed by their hubris. Dominus, naturally, became displeased at the lost investment each time, and would have brought the men back from the dead and killed them twice over if such miracles had been possible. She gave a non-committal shrug, as if saying 'do what you want, but don't be surprised if you fail'.

Ah, how very bound he was still. Bound to his family, to his homeland, to his past. Slaves had no need for those, Clio smiled bitterly. The memories might give you comfort in the dead of the night, but eventually they would consume you if you held on to them too tightly. Life was what it was in the now, not what it had been in the past. "I had a birth family, yes. My parents, plus two brothers and a sister. I was the oldest." She let herself wonder about their fates for a moment. Myron had been so sickly... could he still be alive? Did he and Zenais even remember Clio? Adrastos probably did, although if he had any wits about him, he ought to have tried to forget. Like she had.

Clio blinked slowly, her unfocused eyes returning to the present. "Then when I was 12 I was sold off, and then sold again some years after that, and I've been here ever since," she resumed with forced cheer and a grin that failed to make the corner of her dark eyes crinkle. "This household is my family now." A dispassionate, stony conclusion and a message of reproach in her gaze. You, too, should embrace it as yours.

But he had probably asked the question with his own kin in mind, which was only natural given his recent captivity. She should not be too harsh on him. "Do you have relatives?" If they had not all perished in the battle he had spoken of...

@Polarity

What did the Romans do to inhabitants of the regions they conquered? That's right, they enslaved them. Titus Sulpicius Rufus is no exception and brought home a couple of fine souvenirs from his time in Dacia: 

Diegis (mid 20s - mid 30s) - Youngest son of a local chieftain, lost his father and older brother in the same skirmish where he was captured. Husband to Zia. A fierce warrior with good leadership skills and a troublemaker if left to his own devices, which is why Titus brought him to Rome and decided to make money off his muscles and battle prowess. Possible career paths: leased to one of the ludi to become a gladiator, to one of the chariot factions as security personnel, or rented to citizens as a bodyguard (if he behaves he may be allowed to keep a portion of the earnings for himself). Could get involved with one of the gangs, too. General personality, history and fate up to you. Suggested FC: Dustin Clare

Zia - Diegis' wife. Currently a household slave. Essentially a bit of a hostage to get Diegis to behave, although they are allowed to meet occasionally.  taken by Sara!

Tarbus (mid 20s - mid 30s) - Tribesman to the other two and Zia's cousin. Suffered serious wounds to his sword arm in battle, so life as a warrior is no longer an option. Probably leased to one of the chariot factions as horse trainer, cartwright, leather worker or even charioteer wannabe. Could also get involved with one of the gangs. Personality, history and fate up to you. Suggested FC: Liam McIntyre taken by springy!

In the domus proper and in addition to Zia you may also find:

Betua (early 50s - mid 60s) - a formidable woman of even more formidable cooking skills and mistress and commander of the Sulpicii-Rufi's kitchen. Originally from Gaul, she's been a slave for many decades and has been with the family for several years, even travelling to Dacia with them. Strict and temperamental but caring, she's recently found her nemesis in the Briton below... Suggested FC: Phyllis Logan

Florus (late teens - mid 20s) - recently acquired (and renamed) for his gardening skills, courtesy of Longinus.  This young Briton is as passionate and particular about plants and shrubs as the Gaulish bard is about his music and considers himself something of a misunderstood genius in the realm of greenery. He has met his match in Betua, who often angers him by harvesting greens too soon (according to him, but not to her), and the two can't see eye to eye on how much of the hortus shall be dedicated to growing food and how much ascribed to decoration with vegetation. Is currently being romantically pursued by Tranquillus, but does he return the other slave's feelings?  taken by Ejder!

Tranquillus (early to late 40s) - Titus' body slave. Born into slavery in Hispania, he came to Rome with his previous master and found himself acquired by Titus in 69. Prim, proper and posher than any other slave in the household, he was creatively renamed after his calm demeanour. An educated and diligent Stoic who takes pride in what he does, he thought himself immune to the fickle designs of Venus until the aforementioned Florus came into the household. Struck by Cupid's arrows for the first time, Tranquillus is now reduced to a bumbling mess whenever the gardener is close by and tries to come up with increasingly more elaborate ways to win Florus' affections. To what degree this is affecting his ability to perform his duties is up to you!  taken by Chevi!

In his transaction with Longinus, Titus came to own two other Britons: a guard (m) and a kitchen helper (f). 

Other slaves from Dacia or other regions are more than welcome, whatever their skills! And, while you're reading this, why not take a look at Titus' relatives in the canon lists? Most are open and very much wanted 

Titus nodded his agreement at the other patrician's explanation. It would be most extraordinary - and fortunate - to find a ship in Ariminum that would take them to their final destination without too much dillydallying at other ports, but sailing straight to Corinthus, or eventually calling at Brundisium on the way there, should not be too difficult to arrange. "You're right," he conceded without enmity. "Even the best laid plans crumble to pieces if the gods wish it so."

Now that the three of them had come to an agreement and that the way forward was clear, he found he was in no further need of rest for the time being. Narnia was figuratively right around the corner and they could get sleep, water, food and horses there. In another four to seven days, depending on whether they walked or rode, they would arrive in Ariminum, and this was enough time to iron out any finer details in their plans.

He stood up and dusted off his clothes, feeling energised. "Shall we get going, then? Another hour and we'll reach Narnia." The road could still present some dangers, but their little group should be able to deal with them without much difficulty.

@Chevi @Sharpie

The Briton seemed to grow a bit worried at her words on gladiatrices, and then sombre as he explained how his limp had come to be. Clio, too, felt the previously light mood darken at the mention of battle, and mentally chided herself for not having thought of that as the more likely possibility. His description was rather matter-of-factly, but Clio thought the gladiator must have a lot of pent-up emotions about the circumstances of his capture. She prayed he would find release and closure in the arena.

"Eboracum..." The name was as foreign in her tongue as Bithynia had been to him, and prior to their conversation she would have been unable to place it on either of the many provinces. Whatever its actual size might have been, it clearly took up a lot of place in the man's heart... 'Home' tended to.

As he spoke, Clio realised how lucky she was to never have had to experience the cruelty of war. She had never had to fear her house being razed to the ground, or run for her life, or watch the life bleed out of her loved ones from gruesome wounds. If that was what being free was like, then praise be to the gods that she had been born a slave. "How sad..." She dropped her head in respect for the dead.  Unfortunately, he was right: Romans had a taste for the suffering of others, and the complex that housed them was proof of that. And yet, had it not been for that thirst, who could tell what their lives would have been like at that moment?

At his question, she bit her lip in concentration. Just from what he had said, it was difficult to ascertain how much of the muscle had been permanently affected by the infection. One thing in his favour was that he seemed to start the training sessions in good shape, and that the limp became a hindrance only after some time - or so her observations led her to believe. "Hmm, it's hard to say. When you are well rested, does it bother you?" It might not be such a liability if it didn't.

"Well, if I were in your place, I would focus on learning to kill my opponent quickly first. If you let the match go on too long, it may become a problem. It's not good for the audience, but it's good for you. If you survive, then you can train more in the ludus." Until he overcame exhaustion and his body's protests. Then... then he could start working the crowd, goading his enemy and drawing out the fight, all in the name of entertainment and the coin it brought.

@Polarity

Clio was still not entirely convinced of the girl's intentions, but the relief the other female expressed seemed genuine. She accepted Clio's proposal readily and appeared eager to get out of their current spot; this was corroborated by her words, though she stumbled a bit on the most complicated one. The accent and hesitation meant the girl only recently had begun to communicate in Latin, but Clio did not hazard a guess on how much time had passed since - some achieved fluency but maintained their original accent for the rest of their lives, others managed to speak it like it was their mother tongue, and some less fortunate bastards neither. For the girl's sake, Clio hoped she would eventually fall into one of the first two categories.

"Monster?! Who?" She whispered back, whipping her head round at once to try and spot this person the girl spoke of. Again, she could not see anyone who looked like they were after the girl, but it wouldn't be wise to stick around and wait to be caught.

Clio squared her shoulders with determination and reached behind, grabbed the girl's wrist into her own and tugged on it as she began to move. "Come, let's go. We'll be safe in the tent, I know the owner," she explained as she walked towards their destination with a sure stride. She occasionally bought hairpins from the old man, and he never seemed to mind when she came in just to browse. Besides, there were several other tents nearby, so anyone kicking up a fuss would be noticed in no time.

"What's the story here? Are you being followed? Do you owe money to someone?" It was crucial that she get to the bottom of things quickly, lest she became involved in unsavoury dealings. 

@Beauty

What if she contracted some flesh-deforming sickness? The tryst would then be revealed, and her fate gruesomely sealed. Risking a decent life for a moment's fleeting passion was just not worth it: Clio had been a fool once, but that had made her determined not to let it happen again.

But if that was the case, then why was it so damned difficult to make a decision and stick to it? One explanation could be the lack of male company in the last months; another, that Helenus didn't look at her like a wolf does at a sheep, observing its next meal - many of the men at the ludus had that predatory glint when their eyes happened to meet during the gladiator trainings. Yet another that they were in near-equal circumstances; neither held more power above the other. And one more, that he had been the first in some time to address - and touch - her so considerately.

To buy time while logic and emotion fought it out, Clio answered his question. "Yes, I was born verna in a farm in Bithynia." Looked like she would be mentioning her family in the end, despite her best efforts. "My parents were slaves too, as were my siblings. I don't know if they ever knew freedom." Or if they still lived. She hoped so.

"Is it the same for you?" She was quite sure it was. People with their kind of complexion were either the result of slave relationships or came from long pacified parts of the empire, whereas newer slaves tended to come from the new provinces, inhabited by folk of light skin and hair.

A heavy sight escaped the body slave's lips. The distraction had only been momentary, and its effect gone too quickly. But she'd come up with a strategy, at last.

"Are we really safe?" Then, without waiting for his reply, she planted a kiss on his lips, lingering for a moment before pulling back. When she spoke, it was with defiance  in her eyes and voice. "If word of this gets around, then I'll know you were lying. If it stays a secret, maybe I can trust you after all." Some time had to pass before she could find out, anyway.

Feeling pleased with herself, Clio turned on her heels and started towards the upper floors. "Are you coming?" she asked, looking over her shoulder.

@Atrice