Sara

She pressed her lips into a thin line, anger bubbling in her blood. He voice was clipped, irritated. "Yes Domine, of course...I hope you say I can." Of course she had to wait to be invited to work in the gardens. Of course she had to stay here because he asked it of her. She had no idea why every other slave, born into it or not, could stand the indignity. But then she supposed that they had to. She'd heard of what happened otherwise; branding, whippings, cruxifixction. She shut her eyes briefly to take a deep breath and steady her anger. Careful, Erea. But then he spoke again, and she audibly choked in horror. An overwhelming part of her wanted to slap him, but she managed to restrain herself. What she couldn't restrain, however, was the blurted out "No..." that rang out loud and clear across the silent garden. Shit shit shit shit. In panic, she glanced up at his face and as usual, couldn't read what he wanted. Snapping her gaze away, she glanced quickly around the garden to see if there was any way out of this that didn't involve what she imagined, was his pleasure. Seeing nobody else to intervene, she turned her gaze back to him but respectfully kept her eyes on his chest and no higher. "I..." She started, but didn't know what else to say. But then her eyes found the flowers behind him, and she felt the cool breeze against her bare neck and she sighed. This life, as she was currently living it, wasn't sustainable. She knew she'd go mad, she couldn't bare the monotony of life in the kitchens - separated from her family, her friends, her interests and passions. She needed...something, some small way to make it better - and she supposed it was within her reach. If she did this, would it prove her loyalty? Would it afford her a modicum more of respect, and allow her to spend her hours planting and pruning rather than cooking and cleaning? Swallowing, she made her decision. With grace she was surprised she had, she slowly moved to her knees. Inside her head, she hoped that her husband would forgive her. "I...I'm sorry, Domine. I...am new to this." What else could she say? TAG: @Atrice

I long to go home, you fool, she thought to herself, but she couldn't say that. Instead she just shrugged her shoulders lightly. "Just...treated kind, you do not need...spoil me." She kew what Hector did to earn those spoils and the thought made her shudder. She was a married woman, and the man before her had bought her like cattle or a dog. She gave her affection or respect to men that offered affection and respect to her in return, not to somebody that would keep her as a pet. Still standing, she breathed deeply and glanced cautiously at her face, but finding him watching her she lowered her gaze back to the flowers. His look made her so...uncomfortable, and she only nodded when he asserted she liked to work in the gardens; "I do, Domine. I like gardens, I like outside." Not slaving over meals and foods she couldn't even pronounce. The way he spoke made her breathing heavier, and she dropped her fingers from the flowers. Instead, she folded her arms over herself protectively. She had not meant to please him like that but she realised, with growing horror, how it must have looked. She wanted to impress him, get his trust, but only to serve her own interests. But she had never meant...this. As he asked for her to return to him, she hesitated. She considered that she'd honestly rather be anywhere else than here right now. Without looking at him, she spoke calmly, trying to be assertive; "I should go back to bed, Domine." Her nails dug into the skin of her arms as she kept her protective stance. Hesitantly, she took a couple of paces forward until she was stood in front of him. She needed him to like her, but...the right amount. "It late and if you wish me in garden tomorrow," She shook her head. She needed to assume, to make it sound as if it was a done deal as he'd agreed to it; "Now I be in the garden all the time, I need sleep." She was wide awake, and sleep was the last thing on her mind, but she hoped he didn't see that. TAG: @Atrice

Erea rolled her eyes with a gentle laugh. "Pretty married women." Enough of the soldiers had tried their luck. She now just found it amusing, rather than annoying. Mostly. Some of them were more forceful than others, but she had Turi with her most days now, and his brute strength even for a lad of fourteen, was enough to dissuade most men from trying anything. Taking back the knife with narrowed eyes and laying it down on the table, she placed both hands on her hips. "A pict maybe, with that hair." She smirked, although she had always found the fiery colouring of their northern neighbours rather alluring. Still, she looked surprised as this man affirmed he was Gaulish. Whilst her family didn't trade that extensively, she knew of several other merchants that had links with their neighbours over the sea. She also knew the Romans had taken those people's freedom as well. Moving to cross her arms over her chest defensively, she regarded the man with an arched brow. "Your father was a trader?" Turi placed a warning hand on his sister's shoulder, evidently sensing her irritation, "And yet you decided to join the people that subjugate yours?" She knew she was a hypocrite, given she was out here selling knives and goods to the very legions that kept them under their thumb, but she needed to do this for her survival. This Gaul didn't, did he? Swallowing, and realising she might have even a touch too forthright she sighed, and held her hands up as if admitting defeat. "This is all...still quite new for us, in Britannia...I'm sorry." No she wasn't. "Maybe in a few decades my children or grandchildren will be interprexes." She bloody hoped not, but she didn't wish to get herself or her brother in trouble. TAG: @Chevi

You're lucky to have any of us, you fool. She wanted to snap, but bit down hard on her tongue to stop herself. She hadn't spoken a great deal to Hector, but from what she had seen he had seemed sweet enough, if a little imperious. As if he had been born into this role and thrived in it. Still, she couldn't help but recoil at his suggestion she could be lucky. She had no idea what he was insinuating, but if it was anything like what she assumed, she was horrified. "Lucky how?" She asked uncertainly, hopeful it was not what she was imagining. Then again, if he wanted that, to bed her, he could well of taken her by now. He dwarfed her diminutive frame and from what she'd seen on the road, and heard from other slaves, most masters didn't have the restraint he seemed to be exercising. But she had to stifle a yawn as they continued to sit there. And she briefly fluttered her eyes shut before pulling them open again, feeling tiredness seep in. The only thing she was maybe jealous of was a bed. A proper bed. Her pallet in the slave quarters was thin enough to feel the ground beneath it, and the hushed whispers of other slaves kept her awake long past what was sensible. She missed her richly stuffed pallet and furs from home. Another two things to add to her list. Still holding the plate for him, she glanced at him - but respectfully kept her gaze from his face. She was still, irritated, however, and couldn't keep it from her voice. "It is hard to please Domine in when I am in kitchens all day...I do not see you." She replied firmly. "I can..." Come on Erea, get it out, "Please you...other ways, instead." She'd asked in that first meeting, if she could be moved from her post but he'd done nothing to see to it. Cautiously and without prompting, she stood and placed the plate down next to him. Instead, she moved to run her fingers over the flowers blooming. "I can make better, pick flowers for Domine and Antonia Varia, plant more, grow herbs." She glanced across at him again, "Easier to please you when outside, than...stuck in kitchens, hmm?" TAG: @Atrice

"I not used to it, is all Domine...Britannia can be very cold." She remembered lying under a mountain of furs and blankets, teeth chattering as snow felt outside. Did it even snow in Rome? Gods she hoped so, else she'd have to add another thing to the mental list of things she'd miss from home. It was already getting enormous. She was glad they were outside, where there was scenery to distract her because as he spoke again, she wanted to be anywhere else but that bench in that moment. "I..." she hesitated, wincing. "I did not mean it badly." She countered a little flustered, trying to gather her nerves which had been shot over the last month and a bit. Gods, what had happened to the confident young woman she was in Britannia. Pausing, and trying to collect her thoughts and her backbone, she continued - although her nails curled and dug into the marble of the bench. "He look after you, Domine." She arched a brow. She'd heard what they did. The walls, even in a house as grand as this, were thin enough for her to hear. "He knows what you want," And as if to prove a point, she raised the plate with bread and oil on for him. If he wanted to play games, so be it. She continued, through a gritted jaw - irritation replacing fear at this little charade. "And he please you at night." She paused for a heartbeat, "Domine." She still sounded respectful, but there was an edge in her voice. She might be down but she was not out, and wouldn't be browbeaten by words. Lashes and slaps, maybe, but if he wanted to make her afraid he would not do it via conversation. "I only meant I think he lucky," She smirked a little, "To have Dominus like you." Gods she hoped he didn't sense the sarcasm in her accented words, because she regretted the words as soon as she said them. TAG: @Atrice

Finished with her hair, she frowned at him, and mumbled before she could stop herself, "Lucky Hector." Before she realised what she had said and swallowed, hoping he hadn't heard. It seemed so unfair, that Hector could be a slave like her but so free to sleep in a bed (a bed!), and come and go as he pleased. Whilst she was stuck here, in this room, cooking food she detested and burnt half the time. As he left for the gardens, she followed dutifully, but kept a wary distance. Gods he was a nightmare to read, she mused. He seemed so calm and collected, quite unlike any man she'd spent time with before. Her family, her husband, most of her settlement wore their hearts and emotions on their sleeve - much like her, and to meet somebody that was able to mask them so well, was peculiar. She didn't like it. As they moved into the garden, she smiled genuinely and sighed, breathing in the floral scents. Even in the dark, she felt better being out here. But as he bid her sit, she glanced up to his face, confused. Did she hear him right? Snapping her eyes back away almost immediately, she set down the plate and cup on the marble bench next to him. Not wanting to raise his ire, but feeling deeply uncomfortable, she took a seat. It was a relief that the food was between them. She always hated awkward silence, and quickly picked up the cup, holding it to him. "Wine, Domine?" Brushing a strand of hair away from her face which had escaped the band of linen she had tied it with, she tried conversation. If he wanted her to sit here quietly, then he must have wanted her to speak, right? "It is beautiful night, Domine, the heat better at night." That's all you want to say, Erea? Gods above... "Would...would you like me be quiet?" She winced. Why wouldn't he just send her away? TAG: @Atrice

Erea only arched her brow at his comment, but said through gritted teeth; "At least these don't have our family members attached," She narrowed her big blue eyes; "Nor are they skewered through a Roman." If that's how this man, boy...whatever wanted to play it, Erea would give as good as she got. She always had Turi with her. She glanced over her shoulder to reassure herself that he was still here. Tilting her head and holding her palm out for the knife back, she asked, genuinely intrigued; "You learn our languages so you can do what?" An impish smile crossed her face. She wanted to continue with; 'learn our secrets? give us orders? take our women?' but didn't want to push it. This person wasn't a solider but they weren't Briton either, and she'd seen what happened to those that spoke out too openly. Only last week, one man from her settlement had been taken, never to be heard from again. His charge? Spitting at a Roman. She would stick to light sarcasm. With a light grin, she shrugged her shoulders. "My strength is deceptive." Before she laughed and gestured to Turi, behind her. "The rest of my family are built like my brother...they man the forge, I do the numbers and the trade," Since my father is no longer here to do it himself, she mused darkly. Trying to lighten the mood, she offered her company another knife, larger, and a little less decorative but just as fine in quality; "The Gods blessed them with looks but not intelligence." "Erea!" Her brother tutted, irritated behind her. Ignoring him, she narrowed her eyes on Aius, "Where did you learn them? Our words?" She cast a lingering glance over her figure, "You're not a Briton...are you?" TAG: @Chevi

Erea rolled her eyes at the man. She couldn't be sure of his age. She was at least grateful he didn't try to mumble in their Latin, but spoke to her in her own dialect. Small mercies, she supposed. She watched with intrigue as he surveyed the wares on their small, haphazard table. She couldn't, however, help the impish grin. "It depends if you try anything." She cocked her head to the side, "But then you'd just get me back and our work," She gestured to the haphazard assortment of knives and short swords, "Doesn't bend or break on bone so I'd be a goner." She never brought ornate swords, axes or spears. They were reserved for her people. Turi stood uneasily behind his sister. He was already a head and a bit taller than her, and built like a house but his strength belied a sensitivity of character that Erea herself didn't have. She'd always been too forthright for her own good. It's what made her a good tradeswoman, something her family sorely needed. With a smirk, she picked up a knife from the table. It was crafted with great attention so its small hilt matched the weight of the blade. Unsheathing it, and holding it out, only at the last minute did she flip it around so the man (or at least, what she presumed was a man), could take it in his hands for himself. Shrugging her shoulders, she glanced at passers by who eyed her, and the scene with intrigue. "A lot of the legions come by, buy one as a souvenir." She rolled her eyes, as if it was ridiculous. They didn't understand the skill or work it took to make what was on her table, nor the hours her family slaved at the forge for them. Nor did they understand that British steel and iron were superior to their own weaponry, at least in her opinion. With a hand on her hip, she arched a brow at Aius, "You don't look much like a soldier." TAG: @Chevi

Erea* grinned at her younger brother, rolling her eyes as he attempted to perfect the line of daggers and shortswords they had brought. "If you do that for much longer, the Romans will have been and gone from here and I'll be long dead and with the Gods." Turi only flashed his sister a glare, the sort of one a teenager always gave, and went back to his task. Laughing, Erea nudged the small wooden table with her foot, enough to send the daggers clattering to the floor, and the fourteen year old Turi to mutter what she knew were swears, under his breath. She didn't much like coming out here, to speak or trade with the legions but since the battle at Petuar nine years ago, things had been different and the Romans had indelibly imprinted themselves onto the fabric of their lives. Immin hated it, and consistently warned her not to go, but with his poor leg, he couldn't physically stop her and so that morning she and her younger brother had hitched a ride on a cart heading to Petuar with their wares. Since the loss of her father, their once flourishing industry had suffered, even with the attempts of her eldest brother and husband to revive it, and any sale made today (at a marked up price, of course) would help. Glancing cautiously at the men who circled the various merchants, she shrugged the thick fur tighter around her shoulders. At seventeen, she felt as if she was a wizened old woman from all life had dealt her (a pity, given what was still to come), and her irritation at even needing to do this, to be here, was plain to see on her face. Still, Erea was nothing if not pragmatic. Even if her other family members couldn't see why she'd want to trade with the men and army that enslaved their people and taken her father, she knew it was a necessity she had to suffer. Nodding her head to Turi, as if to signal him to stand up straight, as a young lad approached, she arched a brow and spoke confidently in her own dialect. If the Romans wanted to be here, then they could bloody well learn her words. Latin was like a drunkards gibberish to her mostly, although she had picked up a few phrases and words. "Are you looking to buy, or just looking to gawk?" This one was dressed down, as a civilian, not as a soldier. It gave her renewed confidence to speak plainly; "We don't earn money from people staring." TAG: @Chevi * Charis' Briton name was Erea.

Charis glanced at him, standing like a shadowy figure in the doorway. It made her uncomfortable, but she was determined not to show it. Then again, this man generally made her uncomfortable - but something about being alone in the dark only amplified it. Shaking such thoughts from her head, she nodded dutifully and moved to cut fresh pieces of bread from a loaf, hoping that it was a fresh one. She tried to avoid looking at him as she did so. When she was finished, she retrieved a small jug of olive oil and decanted some on a trencher for him. Awkwardly wishing she could have some herself, as she hadn't been hungry enough at her own evening meal, she set it on the side with the cup of wine. Tentatively, she unwound a long strip of fabric from her wrist, which she had been using since her arrival to tie up her hair into a long braid or messily attempted style on her head. She had never been one for fashions, but the heat of the day here made it impossible to work with her hair loose around her shoulders. She spoke to him confidently, as she moved to fasten up her hair, as for some reason she didn't enjoy him seeing her like this. "Would want me to bring it to cubiculum, Domine?" She didn't risk a glance at him, but surely if he wanted it brought back to his bed and his lover, he could have asked her when she was in the garden, rather than going through this awkward charade? She'd not had any real interactions with his body slave, Hector, but she presumed he could have also fetched it for him, if that was what he wanted. Still attempting to fasten her hair up, she stood awkwardly, awaiting instruction. Just like a dog, Erea. Gods. TAG: @Atrice

Relieved he didn't seem angered by her actions, she was surprised he wanted her to stay. If a little irritated that she couldn't continue with her prayers. She'd have to wait for him to go back to sleep and then she'd be free to resume the conversation with her Gods. If they were listening, which judging by this situation, they weren't. Glancing down at the beaker of wine in her hand, she blinked. It was supposed to be an offering, to Senuna, but if he wished to drink it, who was she to stop him? Nodding, "Of course, Domine." She moved and slipped past him, back into the house. She was relieved he had not spotted the coin, which she had taken from another slave's trinket box. To be returned of course, she wasn't a thief - not really. Just one long enough to appease her Gods. Moving silently, she padded on bare feet to the kitchen. Whilst never a great cook, she had at least improved a little under Rhoda's instruction in the kitchen. The older Greek slave even seemed to like her a little more. Glancing over her shoulder at him as they walked, but not meeting his eyes as instructed, curiosity got the better of her and she asked softly; "You not sleep, Domine?" She meant to ask, why he couldn't sleep, but she was tired and her lessons with Teutus on grammar were the last thing she remembered at this time of night. As they moved into the kitchens she moved to pour the wine from her beaker into a finer glass cup for him, and set it down on the side. Glancing around, she eyed the ingredients they had. They were due for a delivery tomorrow, and the kitchen was a little sparse. Fingers moving over the surfaces, and lingering for the briefest of seconds on a knife before she realised how it must have looked, she snapped her hands behind her back. "What..." She concentrated on her words, wanting to get them right, "Would you like, Domine?" TAG: @Atrice

Charis' eyes widened as she saw who stepped into the light. Gods, of all the people you could send me...him, really? She internally cursed. They evidently hadn't enjoyed her prayers and were mocking her. Almost immediately, she dropped to her knees and hurriedly cleared away her offerings into the small sack she had carried them in. "I am sorry, Domine." She wasn't really, she needed to pray. But better act humble. Having swept up her wares and holding the beaker of wine, she stood. Her eyes lowered but to his chest - not the floor - as Teutus had instructed her. "I...was...praying to Gods, Domine." She gestured with her spare hand up to the sky, as if willing them to appear for her now. How much of an explanation did he want? Hesitating before she spoke again, she nonetheless continued in her accented Latin which had, at least, improved since she was first brought here. "I always prayed out in nature at home, Britannia. I...could not sleep and want to talk to Gods, see if they hear me." Surely he couldn't begrudge a woman her faith? The Romans were God-fearing, she understood, just like her people. Standing awkwardly, she cast a cautious glance at him. He didn't look as he had those weeks ago in their first, and only proper conversation. Dressed simply, much like her, she wondered if he saw the irony - that they were really all the same, underneath the grandeur and pomp. Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, she kept her eyes lowered but nonetheless smiled, "Can I get something for Domine?" What she really wanted to know, of course, is what he was doing out here. Was the moon keeping him awake? Or was he spying? But deciding against asking for now, she only shrugged her shoulders. "Or can leave you, if you want?" TAG: @Atrice

Charis rolled her eyes pointedly. "Girl things." She had no idea of what a Roman girl did or enjoyed. In Britannia she'd enjoyed nature and tending flowers and herbs, helping in the forge and managing the accounts. She had no idea of cosmetics or hair...although she did suppose she knew men, and grinned at the memories of her early days with Immin. As he agreed to help her, she smiled genuinely, broadly and moved to squeeze his hands in thanks. "Thank you." And she meant it. If she could get the hang of their language, her life would be easier, and it would make her next moves easier to plan. Glancing over her shoulder back to the kitchens, she nodded and released her grip on him. "Later...you better prepare good lesson." She arched a brow, amused and walked back confidently to the kitchen. The meeting with her Dominus had unnerved her, but at least there were others here she could lean on. As long as she could steer firmly clear of Tertius.

Charis arched a brow at him at his explanation and lowered her eyes to his chest. "Better." She smirked and flicked her eyes back up, "My neck not hurt looking here...when looking at floor..." She raised her hand and pulled the muscle next to her neck, making it click. "Painful." The whole charade of having to look away in any capacity was ridiculous to her, but she didn't particularly want his fingers on her face again and so supposed this was just something else she had to endure. Inside, however, she was cursing. Laughing at his description of Antonia, she moved a hand to her hip and regarded him. "Then you need tell me what she likes so she like me, hmm?" She wanted to make a good impression with the little girl, she needed to make good impression. Anything to give her opportunities outside of the kitchen. Speaking of which, she glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the culina where she knew Rhoda was preparing for the evening meal. The first one Charis would help with. "I need...to go," She looked back at him but sighed, reticent to ask but needing to. "But I something have to ask of you..." She winced, but looked hopeful, "I need practice Latin...I need to better." And quickly, before her confusion or nonsensical sentences raised the ire of the other slaves or her Dominus. "Can...you have time to teach me, maybe? In evenings?" TAG: @Sharpie

Early May, 74AD "Please Taranis, give me strength." Charis breathed, arms outstretched, palms up to the dark night sky. Beneath her lay an assortment of items; crusts of bread, an earthenware cup of wine, two flowers plucked from the gardens around her and a glinting coin. "Senuna give me guidance...this is all I can offer you, but I need your strength." Charis had not slept well since she had arrived in this household, a little over a month ago. Whether it was the chatter or noise of the other slaves who shared the room, or the heat or unfamiliarity she didn't know. But being awake well into the night whilst the rest of the domus slept at least gave her an opportunity. She had always preferred her worship outside, grounded in nature and the courtyard garden in her new home was all she had access to. So, for the second time this week she had crawled from her straw pallet silently, gathered her votives and crept through the dimly lit house to the garden for some much needed peace and guidance. She didn't have any particular asks of her Gods, not tonight. When she had first arrived she had asked for a sign of her family, a sign that they were alive or well, but nothing had come. Now, some six weeks later she knew better than to ask. The Gods were knowing, but perhaps she wasn't ready to hear of her family's fate? Perhaps the time wasn't right? Tonight all she wanted was comfort. The weeks had worn on, and despite brief moments of relief - through Cynane and Teutus, largely, she already felt like she was forgetting herself and her past life. That was what drove her to the garden. She needed reminding of her own strength and life, before the constant 'yes, Domine' wore her down to oblivion. Palms still outstretched to the sky and eyes closed, she breathed in the fresh scents of the flowers and felt relief. "I want to be strong for you now, but I need your help. Please. Give me your strength." She said with renewed vigour, in her own language. A sound tore her from her prayers and she quickly snapped open her eyes, glancing over her shoulder in the darkness. She was not dressed for company, her waist length hair (as she had worn it in Britannia) was loose about her shoulders, and her tunica unbelted. Nor was she in the mood for company. Expecting to see Rhoda or one of the other slave's faces peer through the darkness, she snapped (in rapidly improving Latin); "Who there?" She gritted her jaw, irritated, "I want to be alone." TAG: @Atrice Taranis was a Celtic God of war, and Senuna is often associated with strategy and wisdom.

Late April, 74AD Charis breathed heavily as she sat on the floor, taking in the shade and the minimal breeze offered. She'd been warned that the heat of the city was only going to get worse, and this was actually rather a mild time of year. For a woman, however, who was used to the cold climes of her homeland in Britannia* it was already intolerable. The sheer amount of people here likewise didn't help. It seemed that whenever she was able to actually leave the domus, the streets got a little bit busier and the atmosphere more insufferable. Already in a poor mood after being disturbed in her sleep by the chattering of some of the other slaves, this morning's tasks had not helped. Whilst she was used to walking, Rhoda's instruction to head for the market (when she could very well have gone herself) irritated the slight Briton beyond measure. Fortunately for both of them, however, Charis had an uncanny ability to be ruthlessly efficient. Having collected the wares that were needed, she had lugged them back to the Quirinal Hill with time to spare. Oblivious to the fact that as a slave, she should never have time to spare unless instructed that she could take some time off, she assumed she was not expected back for a little while. Feeling as if she was melting, she had taken respite under a small tree between houses. Her own household was, perhaps, a ten or so minute walk from here and she felt suitably out of their watchful eye enough to enjoy a few moments to cool down and catch her breath. Few that passed her paid any attention and a couple of boys - slaves she assumed, judging by their clothing - had also taken a few moments in the shade. She wondered for a half-moment if they were Briton and struggling with the heat as much as her, when something else caught her attention and she glanced up. TAG: @Gothic Let me know if you need a little more for Gaius to go off of! *The Parisi, Charis' tribe, are from modern day Yorkshire so enjoyed northern climes!

@Gothic I shall start something for Gaius tomorrow! And for both (@Atrice)- yay! V happy to do an Octavius/Tertius/Charis thread - do you want me to start it or happy for one of you to!

Charis blinked, with an irritated frown and gritted jaw as he tapped her head. Little git, who does he think he is? She tutted internally, but nonetheless watched him. With an eye roll, she moved a few paces further away from the tablinum. "You can read face...my face like you can see from eyes." She wasn't explaining herself well and shook her head, "You see what I am thinking...always been problem." Her eyes had always belied her emotion and she'd always cursed them for it. Maybe it was a good thing she wasn't allowed to look up, after all? Still, she watched with a little bit of amusement and awe as his face lost its animation. It was an evidently a skill she'd have to practice. At the mention of Antonia, she glanced up at him with genuine pleasure. "Looking forward to her...meeting." She'd always been good with children. It made what had happened on the journey even harder, but then she couldn't stomach the thought of bringing a babe into this life. Maybe it was for the best, she thought with a sad shudder. Glancing over her shoulder again to make sure Tertius was not watching or listening, she offered a sarcastic roll of her eyes to her company and moved again, on her way back to the kitchens. "He seem angry...at you coming in." It was obvious; as hard as the man was to read, that had been plain to see at least. "It was fine...then you come in." That was a joke, although with her stuttered Latin she wasn't sure it came across well. "He said I get reward, if I good...day off, more money." She rolled her eyes again, in an irritable mood. Something about the man had rubbed her up the wrong way. "Very generous." TAG: @Sharpie

Charis blushed a little, embarrassed that she hadn't even considered that the child could be his. She didn't know what was...appropriate between slaves. She assumed, given what Teutus and the slave master had said, their lives were heavily regulated and she assumed that also meant intimacy. Nonetheless, she offered a wavering smile at her company with an inclination of her head. "Welcome..." How much her company meant to him, she wasn't sure, but she was desperate not to feel alone here - it was hideous enough as it was, throwing loneliness on top of everything else would surely just drive her mad? "I...may take while...to be best company." She'd been through a lot, not that she expected him to understand. But added, with a little shrug of her thin shoulders, "But I...taught you...teach you our games and swears, you be less alone." And in exchange, although it was unspoken, she hoped he'd continue these little lessons. She'd no doubt find them invaluable. Frowning, and trying to understand his words she nodded slowly. A little sad that the tour was over, she sighed heavily. "I try." She affirmed. How much the older woman would like her trying to help was another matter. She suspected, given the loss of the previous slave and her almost complete inability to cook food the Romans might find palatable, she wouldn't get very far with Rhoda. She would try though. Brushing back loose hair from her face she spun on her heel to the vague direction of the kitchen, but glancing over her shoulder she flashed a grin at her company. "Thank you Teutus." She spoke slowly, but with concentration on the words to make sure they were right. "Teutus the Kind. New name." She grinned again, although she didn't feel particularly joyous. He'd been helpful, moreso than anybody else and she appreciated it. "I see later." This would be bad, but at least she'd found somebody to make it slightly more...tolerable. TAG: @Sharpie

Glancing up as another figure approached, she was relieved to see it was Teutus. Offering a wavering smile, she gestured with a jerk of her head for them to step away from earshot and Tertius. She knew Rhoda would be expecting her, and she needed to return - but she was intrigued. She couldn't tell, almost at all how that meeting had gone, and she already valued - at least a little bit - her young slave companion's perspective. Keeping her voice quiet, so as not to disturb her Dominus, just the other side of the door, she eyed her company. "It went...fine." She confirmed, "I...do not know if he happy or not." He was almost impossible to read, she deduced. Almost the exact opposite of herself - she had been told that her big blue eyes had rarely hidden her emotions well. It was a crying shame, given her new profession, that she should be such an open book when so much of her day to day life now would be feigning meekness and subservience. "I have to go back to kitchens...Rhoda does not like me." She rolled her eyes, "Do...you think Dominus like me? He..." She cast a glance over her shoulder, to ensure he was not waiting for her, or listening in - but lowered her voice further nonetheless, just in case. "Is hard...I can not tell...but...it is good he wants me introduce to his daughter." Surely he would not do something like that if he was displeased with her? Surely she'd be on her way back to the slave market if she was that appalling? TAG: @Sharpie Charis may have a couple of quick words with Teutus before she dashes back to miserable Rhoda in the kitchens...

She nodded wearily; "First house...first house in Rome, first house not my own." Well...it had been a house she had shared with her husband, siblings and mother, but it had been her home nonetheless. This place, with its strange rooms and grandeur could never be her home, not properly, she was sure of it. And not just because she was to sleep on a straw pallet in a room with strangers, although the thought of that made her even more uncomfortable. She listened with patience as he spoke, although she had never been very good at masking her feelings, and her dismay must have been clear on her face. She had been fortunate, her loss had been painful and she had felt weak, but she had only been a few months along - enough that she was barely even showing when it had happened. The horrors of childbirth could, evidently, be so much worse. Silently, she shut her eyes and offered words of safe passage for the girl who had proceeded her, mumbling aloud to Teutus as she finished; "Poor girl...nobody...help her?" Were there not healers that could be sent for? She also cast a curious glance at her companion and added; "Dominus' baby?" Given how tightly regulated the household seemed to be, where else was the girl going to get with child? She tried to shake off her feeling off discomfort. The conversation was bringing her back to memories she didn't wish to think of; the blood and the pain and the shock. She shook her head, as if to snap the image from her mind. "You must...be alone." She sighed, "You must be...lonely." she corrected herself. What is it with their stupid language? It was impossible. Glancing at Teutus she offered a small smile, but still felt downcast, as if she was weighted by the memories that were just beginning to resurface. Maybe that was what she could offer this household? She wasn't the best at cooking, and certainly didn't want to be here - but shed always been a naturally nurturing person, and wouldn't let somebody fall by the wayside, or isolate himself. "I here...for you now. I am here. No more lonely." Gesturing around, she shrugged; "All rooms done? No more?" TAG: @Sharpie

Oooh - so many choices! I think Octavius could be interesting, if potentially @Atrice was up for getting in on the action and having a thread! And maybe we could look at Claudia and Charis in the future, if hers and Cynane's friendship blossoms? Charis would love to have her story told by Gaius as well, so v happy to have a thread with him - if you're keen? She's just been allowed out of the house, so I'm sure we could engineer a meeting somehow... @Gothic

Charis eyed the space suspiciously nonetheless, as he takes her through it. She even went so far as to step out of the bounds of the white marble. She didn't know why, but it made her uncomfortable in here. And she sighed a little, thinking that she'd have to lose even more sleep to go outside to speak to her Gods whilst the garden was unoccupied. She didn't want to get a reputation for it, but she could use guidance now, above everything else. She'd have to make an offering to Senuna* tonight, and hope for the best. Still, as he disparaged himself, she reached a hand and tentatively touched his shoulder, shaking her head. "You not bad." She offered a warm smile, "You...patient. Most are not." Certainly those that had taken her on the journey had not been. "You never had Briton slave? Or slave not Roman?" She'd heard tales that the Romans had taken more people than could be imagined from across the narrow sea, surely she could not be his first non-Latin speaker? Or the first fresh slave in this household? She moved out to of the shrine and wandered a little way away, looking over her shoulder at him for direction. "No more rooms?" What else could there be? Surely even this was too much for one man and his daughter...and the host of slaves he kept. She sighed a little, unwilling to end their tour. She didn't want to have to go back to Rhoda, although it occurred to her - in that instance, that perhaps she had misviewed the other woman's apathy. The person before her had died. That...was undoubtedly a loss that still hurt. "Girl...who was me...before me...what happened to her?" She glanced at Teutus, not sure if this was a sore subject or not, "You friends with her?" TAG: @Sharpie

Charis glanced awkwardly between father and son for a moment. The physical similarity between them was striking, at least to her, but whereas she felt awkward - embarrassed in the presence of the father, Teutus was comforting. Or at least, as comforting as a man who was probably trying to keep his distance, could be. As Teritus allowed her leave to go, she inclined her head. "Thank you Domine." She took a step back, about to move to stand on the other side of the doorway to wait for Teutus, but she added; "I...hope I will." Did she? Did she really hope that she adjusted to this new life soon? She wanted to give herself a good slap and to tell herself to stop this ridiculous, meek little charade. But she couldn't. She needed to get into his good books - and if this was how he wanted her; quiet and 'adjusted' to her position. So be it. It would serve a higher purpose for her, and whilst a proud woman - Charis was eminently sensible and practical. She could bite her tongue if it meant greater reward (and other, more impossible dreams) in the future. With a glance to Teutus she moved now to the other side of the door and out of Tertius' direct eye line. She knew her way back to the kitchens now, but he'd bid her wait to have his son take her - and she was intrigued by the young slave's question. The intriguing Antonia...when would she meet her? TAG: @Atrice & @Sharpie