Sara

She sat as the men did - her father a discrete distance away, close enough to interfere in the conversation if needs be, but allowing them a modicum of privacy. She surveyed this Publius Horatius Justinus with a discerning eye. He was neat and orderly which was better than one or two of the men she'd been paraded before, but there was something underneath that she couldn't place. He almost didn't seem to fit in his gleaming white Senatorial toga. She'd done her research of course, and suspected it was because he was a military man. For a time she had wanted a husband with those ambitions, who would whisk her off to the decorate Praetorium's of legates and pro-praetor's in the Empire. Now the thought of being so far from home was like a wrench in her gut, but she chose to shove those thoughts aside as he posed his questions. "Very well, thank you. And yourself?" She inclined her head, "Although...you have visited at a fortuitous time, an hour earlier and you would have heard my attempts at playing that." She chuckled and gestured to the hydraulis in one of the rooms that led from the garden. Gaius interfered - a record for him; "Ovinia is being modest, she's very accomplished." But her lips merely twitched in amusement at his next question, grateful he hadn't mentioned the gambling. "Alas not, but it was no great loss." A slave placed down two expensive, shining clear glasses of cold wine which she sipped gently before setting it down again. "My father tells me you returned to Rome recently?" She arched a brow, smoothing the exquisite green silk of her chiton over her knees as she adjusted herself gracefully on the bench, "Where did you venture, Senator?" She knew exactly where he had been and what he had been doing, but it was only polite to ask. Besides, there were very few other ways to effectively gauge a man than besides asking him to describe himself and his accomplishments. Some boasted until she thought she'd gone deaf, some were far too modest to be anything but spineless but some...some had that air of confidence that was alluring...to some women. Women that were not already firmly allured by another. She watched him closely, wondering which sort of man Publius would be. TAG: @Sarah

She felt her heart flutter as he agreed. It could work. It had to work. "My mother..." She murmured against his chest, "She enjoys the respite of the villa...My father usually lets her go this time of year...and she..." She swallowed, "When she's unwell she can't leave the grounds. She'd think nothing of me going into Neapolis...or spending a day at the beach." She bit her lip. "I also wouldn't need my guards, the country is much safer after all..." She flicked dark eyes up to his, moving a thumb to stroke his cheek softly. "There's a small cottage, by the private beach. People stay there when they swim..." She moved to press a soft kiss against his lips. "We could have a whole day there, alone. A whole night if I tell my mother I'm staying with a friend in the city." TAG: @Chevi

Ovinia folded her arms over her chest, tilting her head as she peered down at the strange man. The man she was supposed to trust with her life, but who was now preventing her from really living it by virtue of the fact she couldn't sneak off with him tailing her. "I don't disappear without you." She retorted with an irritated little growl in her voice. "I don't need you to accompany me everywhere." But her father clearly thought differently, and she would need to earn the trust of her family again before she was allowed out unchaperoned. Besides, she knew her father was tight enough with his copious wealth not to stand an idle slave. "You won't be killed, so dramatic, Gods..." She groaned, moving slender fingers to pinch the bridge of her nose in frustration. "Fine." She snapped, dropping her arms so her palla flowed around her in a ruffle of pink silk. "Get up. We're going out." She watched him carefully. The rest of the slaves carefully kept their eyes averted or focused on their other tasks. They knew better than to speak to their domina when she was frustrated. Far too many spiteful words had been thrown their way in scenarios like this. "I hope you like shopping for fabrics, because that's what we're doing." TAG: @Faustus

"I did." Ovinia murmured quietly, saying she had seen his death, but chose not to elaborate further than that. That day had been awful, almost as awful as every other thing to do with the man; the attack, her decision to try and end his life herself because the others wouldn't listen. His death had been gruesome and bloody but it hadn't been enough for her and she didn't know if anything ever would be. She ducked her head in thanks as he said he hoped her slave girl was alright. It was sweet of him to care, she had known very few men that cared for the welfare of the slave girls they ogled or groped or worse. She knew her own family were guilty of such treatment, and whilst she didn't touch her slaves, she knew her moods were sometimes just as bad. She was trying to be better. Trying. But none of them cut their slaves, like the barber. Cut. Marcus dragged her out of her thoughts though with a question and she responded with a "Hm?" At first, trying to formulate an answer. She just swallowed and shook her head. "No. Just that there...there was nothing she could do, and he wanted to do it so he did." She let out a breath, shaking her head. He had hurt so many people. "Let's pray to the Gods that nobody else that evil walks these streets again." She loosed a breath and wrapped her palla around herself tighter, trying to distract herself with a little smile. "And let's hope you are up to the task of keeping them all in prison, hm?" She tucked some dark hair behind her ear, "When do you move to the next stage of the cursus?" TAG: @Atrice

He chuckled at her stumbled words and inclined his head, "Lucius is fine." His friends called him Longinus, but that felt odd coming from the young woman's lips. It was a name belonging on battlefields and in bars, not in the atrium of his domus. He was vaguely aware of Attis' presence nearby as Sosia thanked him and he took up his own cup, and then put his bodyslave out of his mind. Instead he gestured for Sosia to follow him through into the garden. The autumnal sun was still warm but it had lost a great swathe of its heat since the height of summer, for which he was grateful. He gestured at a large curved bench set at the back of the garden, shaded over by a tree which had been growing since he was a child in this domus. "And you're a flatterer." He chuckled at her comment. Was he kind? Probably, but then most of the men and women who called him that hadn't seen him in war. There were things he'd done and seen that made being kind difficult to reconcile. He let her sit first, before he sat down himself a respectable distance away. Why were meetings like this always so awkward? In his youth it had been different, he'd been excited for the prospect of a wife and children but now...he was older than the twenty-five year old youth that sat in this very garden with the fiery Antonia Nennia. And he was certainly a lot more jaded. Running a hand through his hair, he offered Sosia a small smile. "Thank you for agreeing to meet me," although he suspected she didn't have much of a choice in the matter, "I imagine you have a legion of men trying to arrange meetings with you." He chuckled as he sipped his wine. She was young, beautiful and her family was exceptionally well connected after all. "I...should have asked, do you prefer Horatia or Sosia?"

Ovinia felt his eyes on her and regretted her choice of words immediately. Had she been too honest? Had she revealed too much? She wished she had wine to steady her nerves, but she doubted she could have kept a cup steady in her fingers if she had any. She exhaled a breath as Marcus talked, keeping her hands steady on her knees instead, looking back to the altar. The God of healing. Her physical wounds had long since closed and scarred over, but the mental ones...well...they were nowhere near healed, even if she was improving day by day. She tilted her face up to look at Marcus, finding him watching her as he continued. Did you hear the stories about what he did to people? She wanted to cry. She had wanted to know but now she regretted every second that had led her to this moment, and she couldn't tell him. She couldn't admit it. She panicked, thoughts rolling through her mind until words came tumbling out of her before she could stop them; "He hurt one of my slaves. One of my girls. Obviously I couldn't allow her to be tortured for evidence...maybe that's why he didn't have a trial." She swallowed, hoping sincerely he would buy it. "I...suppose I wondered if he ever told you, or anybody, why he'd done what he'd done." she exhaled a breath and smoothed her hands over her knees. "I'm glad he's gone. And that he suffered."

Vibia gave Marcus a sly smirk and a roll of her eyes. "You saw right through me young Silanus." she was being obvious, but it served a point. If Silanus could find investment for Marcus Parthenicus then he would be indebted to her and well...he'd sampled her wares, as they were, he knew her value. She watched the conversation between the two men with interest, but leant against the pillar next to Azarion, arm still slung around his shoulder, fingers tracing his upper arm. If Silanus became a little jealous about the intimacy then all the better, time and time again it had been proved to her that men did silly things like fritter money away when they were jealous. Parthenicus was trying a different angle though and she followed along; "Marcus Silanus is in the Tullianum now, starting on his cursus. I suspect a great many men who rise high do so because of where they or their friends choose to make investment. What is your plan, Silanus?"

She let out a sigh and nodded. "I could use some friends." She agreed. She hadn't spoken to Cynane in...far too long, nor Aia or Rufus. Teutus didn't count and things were still...uncomfortable. Who did she really have? The thought in that moment sat heavily on her like a lead weight in her belly and she let out a deep exhale. But what would she have in common with the noble ladies of Tertius' class? She didn't have their upbringing or social skills. It was only in that moment that she felt the weight of her loneliness. She tried her level best to focus on Tertius' words instead, but it didn't make her feel much better. He'd said something akin to that in the past, and that it was difficult to articulate. She didn't know why it made her feel inadequate - she really shouldn't care. She'd married him because it gave her son, and herself, the best chance possible in this life. But for a brief, confusing moment she felt jealousy flash hot through her blood alongside the pain of the earlier loneliness until she was left blinking up at him. "And what do you need from a wife at this time?" She asked quietly.

She was curled close to his chest, breathing into his neck - close enough she pressed a kiss against the thrumming of his pulse. She managed a smile at his joke and nodded. "No, you're right...and I want to do this again." It was not a one off for her. It had been a gift for both of them for different reasons, but now she had experienced this - the pinnacle of any relationship, she wanted more. She wanted this properly, and his suggestions weren't enough. She pulled back from his neck so she could lean up on his chest, peering down at him as her fingers splayed across his chest. "What about a trip out to Baiae? My villa is close to Neapolis...people don't know us there, and I've visited alone before or with my mother, who has to stay in the house."

She grimaced a little at the thought, but it was more comical than sincere; "There's see there's nothing wrong with it as long as I don't embarrass myself utterly. Some of their rules and ways of doing things," She sighed and shook her head, "It is beyond me." And it was never written down or known by even the menfolk. It was like these beautiful, ornately decorated women were born with the knowledge of how to be a good wife and mother and hostess in their heads and that no outsiders would ever fully understand it. That or it was passed on from mother to daughter and in that moment she was intensely grateful she'd had a son. She had no idea what she was doing, let alone trying to raise a daughter in a suitably patrician way. "Mhmm." she agreed with a sigh and let her hadn't flop down to her stomach, "We have discussed it and I've still not found something." She flicked those big doe blue eyes to Tertius' face, watching him closely. "May I ask..." She started a little more hesitantly, "What your late wife filled her days with? Antonia?"

She wrinkled her nose at the description and picked off invisible lint from her dress. A changed woman she might be, more worldly than before, but she was worldly in the sense of a veil of pleasure being lifted from her eyes. The seedy underbelly of the city - besides her run in with Marcus Barbatius - was still an enigma to her. And she preferred to keep it that way but...for now this was more important and she tried her very best to steel herself and her nerves. Her wits were already scattered but she'd had practice of schooling her features into neutrality, and tried to exercise that now. She bit her tongue so as not to bark 'good' at the lack of trial. Instead, she tilted her head and feigned curiosity. "Was that the barber? The one executed at Cerealia?" She asked and tucked a loose wave of glossy dark hair behind her ear. She hoped her voice wasn't wobbling. "Did you...talk to him at all? Did he say much to you?" Did he say why he did it?

How Longinus was late to his own meeting was anybody's guess but it spoke to his character that he at least felt guilty about it. He wasn't a man that generally got nervous, so his overexertion at the palaestra that morning with Celsus wasn't to do with that, it was more that the indomitable excess energy he'd had since childhood continued to gnaw at him and he needed to burn it off somehow. He particularly needed to run and throw and wrestle it off before meeting a well-bred Patrician lady, and first-cousin of one of his closest friends wives. He'd exercised until the muscles across his body had rippled with exhaustion and his legs ached with the exertion of walking to the baths closest to his house. He was as quick as he could be but still as he hurried home, avoiding the woman just arriving at his front door and ducking down the alley that led to the slave entrance, his hair was still damp and he was still adjusting the folds of his pallium. He avoided the smirks of his slaves as he clattered through their entrance, jogging to the atrium where he signalled for one of them to open the door. He exhaled quickly, trying to catch his breath and plastered a wide grin on his face. His mother was...somewhere in the domus, where he couldn't tell and wouldn't pry and he was grateful for her absence as Sosia stepped through. She was...beautiful. Young, and the sweet flowers tucked into her hair didn't help that impression but those big doe eyes and lightly tanned skin were well...beautiful. There were precious few other words for it. His smile became more genuine, even as he grimaced internally at the oddity of his home in the presence of her. His curiosities and trinkets collected from abroad and the market littered the atrium but he tried to brush those thoughts aside as he inclined his head in greeting. "Horatia Sosia, a pleasure. I hope I didn't keep you waiting..." He winced and glanced behind her, noting the curious absence of a chaperone, beside her slave girl. He blinked and was about to protest when his mother - for once! - was his saviour and called through into the atrium, "Lucius, I have some letters to draft in the red room," The room that overlooked the peristyle garden where she'd have a good view of proceedings but would be unobtrusive...or as unobtrusive as his mother could be. "I know it's still hot as..." balls, he cleared his throat, "But the garden is shaded, if you'd like to drink and enjoy the flowers? I'm afraid they're not as the nice as the ones in your hair."

She merely quirked up an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a smile. "I think you're plenty content with this one, and you're not a man with wandering eyes." She barely retorted. In all the years she'd been in his house, she'd never known Tertius to bed his other slaves - only ever her and Hector, and not even the latter now. She knew she was an attractive woman, now she had access to mirrors she could see herself for the first time, and Tertius' desire for control suggested he only wanted her; it's why he expended so much energy into curtailing her freedom. Right down to the 'maybe' he would let her get a British body slave. She merely kept that smile plastered on her lips. It fell though, at his questions and sighed with a little shake of her head. "I don't know. I like being busy, you know that..." Which was why she found herself so...listless these days. "I ran a business, our families business, when I was in Britannia. I know I can't do that here but..." She wrinkled her nose, "I don't really know what women do here..." She bit her lip and rolled to her side, her chiton falling over the curve of her waist and her hip as she propped her face into her palm. "Maybe I need to visit with some of the women of your class and...see what they spend their time doing. Do you have any ideas?" He had a wife before, maybe he'd noted how she spent her days...

June, 77AD Ovinia was in a mood which was not unusual, but she was particularly salty today. She was running late to meet Lucius - she'd set the time in her letter, delivered by her bodyslave and she knew he was going to be in that abandoned domus waiting for her but her protestations that she wanted to go and meet her friend fell on her fathers deaf ears. "Your brother bought the brute to accompany you, and you barely use him 'Nilla." "That is not true!" She protested with a frustrated groan, pinching the bridge of her nose as she stood in front of her father in his tablinum, "I've taken him to the games and the parties, but to go and see Menilla, I don't need him, I have Lucia-" Her father interrupted her, his voice low which very clearly said he was not to be crossed; "Your girl left you alone when you were assaulted. The only reason she is still in this house is because of your sentimentality. She cannot protect you. You will take the Briton and that is the end of it." She opened her mouth to protest again but her father flicked his eyes to the doorway in silent dismissal. She swallowed, debating whether to continue to argue but he merely said; "Ovinia." And all the fight in her went out of her. Her shoulders slumped forward and she nodded with a deep sigh. She inclined her head; "Father." And then swept from the room in a flurry of bright pink silk. She went to find Lucia, hurriedly sending instructions with her to Lucius that she wouldn't be able to come today, something had come up and she was sorry and then...then she went to find the Briton. She stalked through the domus, her exquisite chiton and palla flowing behind her with her dark hair until she came to the external courtyard that led out to the street. Some of the slaves were out there cleaning fabrics (and themselves) and they hurriedly averted their eyes as their domina drew near. She flicked her hair over her shoulder as she drew up to Cautrix and arched a brow at him. "Are you unhappy that I don't take you outside?" She asked, with no preamble. "Did you complain to my father?" TAG: @Faustus

He seemed...awkward, at the thought she should be his friend and it set a frown on her forehead. They were social acquaintances, moving in the same circles as all young, well-bred patrician men and women did. Of course it was slightly odd to think that her life was about to move on to marriage and babies and she'd be entering the society above her own, given her husband would be older, whereas Marcus would be off to forge his career. That thought and his words sparked another thought in her head and she tilted her head to study him. "I don't actually. Well...I know you're in the villa," And was eternally grateful she hadn't come across him that night she gave her testimony to Tiberius, "But your work...you're in the tullianum, yes?" She arched a brow and set to move back to the bench, taking a seat again and smoothing invisible wrinkles from her dress. "What's it like?" Her curiosity was getting the better of her. "Do you have many...famous prisoners in there?" The barber, her face blanched at the thought, he was in there. Was Marcus there with him? Did...the man speak? She needed to know.

Charis bit back a laugh and managed to keep her face sweet at 'help you carry things and stuff like that', as if that was the only value a slave could bring to her life. She merely smiled softly though and let out a contemplative 'hmm'. She chose to test the boundaries though, of this slow restriction on her freedom and independence; "Would you allow me to get a slave from Britannia?" She didn't expand, but the implication that she wanted one so she could speak her own language and discuss her past, was clear. She added with a little smirk; "You seemed very happy with your last slave from there, after all." But the conversation drifted on and away and she sighed. It did feel longer. So much had happened, and the Charis before him now was not the same young woman who had arrived in Rome - still clinging to the name Erea - her lost husband and child and siblings. Now she was going through the motions of life. She had been a woman who always had a plan, was always active. It was difficult to reconcile that woman to who she was now; laying in her finery in the garden of an expensive house with a man like Tertius at her side. Perhaps the effects of the breakdown after her failed attempt to rid herself of her child still lingered more strongly than she thought. She have him a small smile; "I am working on it. I promise. But you have to let me be me as well." She sighed and shook her head. "I think I need a hobby or two."

We belong together. Society, everybody disagreed but she knew in her bones he was right. This wasn’t just lust, it wasn’t just infatuation, it was something deeper, something more. “We’ll always have this.” She agreed. A bond that could never be undone or broken. “Maybe one day things will change for us.” She whispered against his neck, not daring to say it louder. If she didn’t have hope it would, she didn’t know what she’d do. She was facing a life hanging from the arm of a Senator she didn’t know. She needed more than that. She knew it was selfish and one day she needed to cut him loose, but right then in that safe haven in his arms, she could think of nothing but some rosy future where they could be together. “Can we go to the gardens…or a festival…or a library?” Their world had become this domus, this room. She needed more to keep that hope alive.

Horatia's lips tilted in amusement at the utter bemusement on the slave's face. She merely shrugged lightly, sipping her water and setting it down again before she spoke. "I would hope not. I know Lucius runs an...irreverent home, but I would hope I'm the first visitor of my class to grace those rooms." She didn't need to say that it was not the most peculiar place she'd been; securing a black eye outside and then inside a brothel ranked number one. Aulus' face was a picture when he'd learned of it. "I will visit tomorrow." She nodded, not giving him a chance to claim Metella would be busy. She imagined her other tasks could wait until after the Consul's wife had been to see her and her new born. "Was there anything else Attis?" She asked.

Well shit. She felt the walls moving closer and closer to her, constricting her freedoms piece by piece. She'd been given a lot since her manumission, although of course the terms of their marriage had prevented her from doing things such as taking Peregrinus out for a walk, her own movements were not heavily restricted. This, however, felt like a trap waiting to be sprung. "You know I find it...awkward, with the slaves now." She bit her lip. It was why she didn't have a body slave and made-do by herself or with the help of one of the girls if she really needed it. She sighed and dropped her hand from his arm, moving to fiddle with a daisy that was springing from the grass instead. "If you insist, I will find somebody." And make their life dreadfully dull. She rarely left the domus besides to visit the gardens or the city walls. She liked to peer out and imagine she was standing on the borders of the empire. "But I know how to take care of myself. I've been in Rome...what..." She swallowed at the thought, how had it been so long? "Just over three years now?"

She felt like she would cry, and only managed to reign it in through a shuddering breath and a closer grip on him, her fingers splaying across his waist. "It was perfect." She whispered, keeping her voice quiet and contemplative still. She loosed another breath and adjusted her head against his neck. "It changes so much." She added, swallowing down what felt like a mountain of grief. "And I still have to marry." Because despite everything, despite all the rules and laws they had broken, she could not turn her back on her family and that duty. She wanted to be a mother, she wanted to keep her friends in her life and she wanted to her duty to the Empire. She could do none of that by running away. And despite being an inherently selfish person, she knew she could not ask Lucius to do so either. He had given up everything for his career, to help others and his offer to run to Egypt she knew, was sincere, but she couldn't take that from him. She knew she was not worth it.

She exhaled deeply. You won’t. She hoped not because she could mask other things…she could wed on her monthly bleed, or knick her inner thigh with a knife before the bedding but a pregnancy…that was not going to be concealed or hidden. “Thank you.” She tugged his arm closer and returned to burying herself against his neck. She was silent for some time, thoughts drifting through her mind before she pushed them out again. Eventually when she broke the silence her words had a quiet tinge of sadness to them. “I couldn’t take a wedding ring from you,” She murmured quietly, “But I could give you this. Give us this. You…are the most important person in my life, Lucius. I wanted you to have this, to show you how much I love you. How much I trust you.”

“Me too.” She whispered, as if worried about saying it any louder and the Gods would strike her down for it. They had rules on chastity for a reason. One of which…three…two…one… “I…I can’t get pregnant can I?” She didn’t move beyond gripping his arm so tightly she was afraid it would bruise. “It’s not possible…you…left me…?” Her heart was starting up its frantic rhythm again. It hadn’t even occurred to her.

She exhaled a deep breath, nodding and shifting closer so her head was buried against his chest, legs tangled with his and heartbeat gently slowing back to a normal rythym. “I can’t believe I did it…” She murmured, fingers lazily stroking the arm that held her waist. There wasn’t sadness or anxiety in her voice, just confusion. How had Ovinia - good girl, lover of rules and order and duty, done this? What had happened to her?

She angled her thigh into his hand, exhaling a deep shuddering breath, trying to settle the remnants of her furious heartbeat. She felt utterly boneless and weightless where she had expected the crushing leaden weight of guilt to be sitting over her. It was…confusing. “Hm?” She tried to drag her thoughts back to the present and to him. She glanced down at herself and shifted to look at the sheet and then him. She blinked, utterly confused and a hint of panic was starting to creep into her eyes as she flicked them back to his face. She knew very little, but she knew pain and some blood was to be expected. “I…is there something wrong with me?”

FTB --- "How are you feeling love?" His words floated into her mind, but they were fuzzy and distant as if he was calling from another room. She blinked, trying to clear her vision and settle the frantic beating of her heart which felt as if it was going to explode from the chest he was currently resting against. How was she feeling? She didn't know how to answer that question. She should have felt enough guilt that it made her sick. She had done it - something she should have never done. She had given Lucius her virginity, something drummed into her from childhood that should only belong to her husband. She had dishonoured that man - whomever he was - by giving it to Lucius instead. She should have felt wracked with that guilt but...she didn't. She didn't even feel anxious - although she was sure that would come later. There wasn't even any pain, not really. She was a little sore between her thighs but nothing comparable to the hushed, tearful words her friends had spoken about after their wedding days. She suspected the unbelievably intense climax had helped with any pain she might have expected to feel. How are you feeling love? "I feel..." she searched for the word, peering down at him. A small, soft smile that was just for him drifted across her lips. "Complete." Her fingers moved to stroke his face, pushing hair from his forehead and running her fingers through it. "I...don't feel guilty." She breathed. "I don't feel pain."