Beauty

“Me? Poetic? Ha! Never!” she said, waving a hand. She left that pursuit for her youngest children, who so enjoyed writing. Perhaps one day they would become little Homers. What would she even write? Landicus did it all for her while she sat on her ass cackling like the bored widow she was. “I am neither Landicus nor Ovid, though if I were to become a poet, perhaps I would be noticed by Landicus and finally fuck someone who’d fathered all of Rome and therefore possibly even be my own father.” The mere idea and scandal of it, to her, was amusing. Marcellus could take that comment of hers whatever way he wished to. She eyed his naked body, letting her eyes trace every bit of it, slurping her wine. She’d always been a little perverted but it worsened with age. Still, the women she had invited were in for a treat. It was a massive orgy waiting to happen, though lamented not having invited Vibia. That woman knew how to fuck. She leaned against a wall, making herself very comfortable. “No need to be surprised, sweetheart,” she said playfully. “And you know me, I have been quite busy being a terrible mother, horny widow and doing as I always do. Living every day as if it’s my last. Speaking of being a terrible mother, my youngest son is a fan of yours.” And practically all of the Whites, she thought. He wouldn’t stop talking about charioteers. She herself hadn’t been to the races in a while, purely for being hungover to the point that she could barely move. If you asked her, it was worse than childbirth. “I was hoping after drowning you in a plethora of sweaty tits and delicious wine, that you would show my boy your chariot and horse. Your actual chariot and horse. He’s eleven. Consider it the craftiest thing I have done in my entire life. Outside of trying to get under someone’s garb.” @Echo

Bassus had just arrived at the stable yard, he was earlier than other days, and had been whistling an old tune his father used sing out loud. All of a sudden, the earth shook and Bassus almost lost balance, his arms flailed around him as he tried to catch something to hold onto. He could hear structures being torn apart from far off, aloud moaning sound which was eerie and as if a god was sighing. Trying to discern what to do, he heard Marcus yell. It was just like Marcus to remind everyone about the horses. As a man he was certainly no match for an earthquake, that was for sure with the way the world seemed intent on tossing him about. Trying to maintain stability, he walked slowly, simply because it didn’t look smart to be running as the ground was moving and shaking in ways that mortals weren’t used to. One slip after a run and there could be an injury that one didn’t want. As a charioteer, he couldn’t risk that. Slowly and surely, he made it to the stables and took hold of two horses, guiding them outside of the stable just as he was told, trying to keep them from being too skittish. Seeing Azarion, he turned to the boy. “Have you seen Safinia?” he said, he hadn’t seen her yet. Whether she was at the Circus Maximus or not, he didn’t know. Still, he was deeply concerned for her but tried to remain calm overall. All one could see upon looking at him was the usual expression he gave daily, one between neutrality and friendliness. It didn’t do to panic. @Liv @Chevi @Sharpie @Echo @Jane

Titus sipped the wine and listened as she spoke. Aside from behaving like a good hostess, he liked how she spoke only when spoken to, it made her a little more desirable than perhaps other women of her same status. When it came to business, he much preferred smoother transactions and less bullshit. “I think you misunderstand me,” said Titus, his tone equally cold, shaking a finger and setting his cup down on the chair’s arm. “I am not concerned about what your master thinks or wants. Do you truly wish to let a man have ownership over you? He may own you in law and title but surely, you are your own person with your own governance. I am giving you the option of accepting my offer, not him.” But he did consider the idea of speaking with the man, giving him a handsome sum which would, with the woman Annis, give him riches in turn. He was only thinking about money. He titled his head. “But if you are truly concerned,” he said after some time, sighing because the woman’s response wasn’t exactly what he wanted to hear. “I will need more than that. Giving me the name Longinus doesn’t tell me anything.” He waved his hand so that she would spit out more of the man’s names. “Give me his full name and where to find him. I believe this Longinus and I could come to an agreement. And eventually give you an allowance to buy your freedom when your uses are spent. Without him, we would only be splitting two ways.” @Echo

Aculia shook her head. No, she would not like that. That was a sure way to die horribly by internal bleeding and shock from the sheer power of pain. No physician would be able to help her and even if she survived such a thing, she didn’t want to look weak, let alone have them see her like that. It was not long until her back slammed against the wall with a thud and she groaned as her hair fell down. It happened rather fast, so fast that she hadn’t had the time to really think, he had placed both her hands above her head. She did not dare struggle. One thing she had learned from her brothers, when rough-housing with them, was that more energy was spent struggling and moving than it was achieving anything of value. The first thing that came to her mind was that he was going to use the knife between her legs. But she was proven wrong, feeling the knife against her skin, ripping it slowly. Her wound stung, blood was pooling and rolling down her face. Her eyes watered but she fought from crying or shouting out in pain, even if her toes curled from it. Now, he’d just about taken it all. Her virginity, her happiness, her humanity and now her appearance. But she would hide it from the world so no one would ask questions. It would definitely scar, she couldn’t sew it herself and knew no one. To her, one cut was enough. It left her exhausted and beaten, even if she had tried to sustain what little energy she had to begin with. “I’m sorry,” she managed to choke out softly. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She repeated it a million times over and doubted that that would suffice or be the end of it. It was just the beginning. @Atrice

As Zia gestured, Nymphias lowered her head, feeling her cheeks grow warm with embarrassment. Helios had said it was a good idea for her to show interest in the Roman gods. She believed taking a farther step would allow her more freedom. She didn’t know who to listen to now, both spoke with confidence and reason, and she was still so young and inexperienced, she knew that much and her siblings weren’t there to guide her. She raised her head upon hearing “you’re pretty” and smiled, feeling at last like she had won Zia’s approval, but it soon faltered, hearing the rest. Her arms hugged her middle in revulsion. She shook her head furiously at Zia’s question. Should she have been? Erea had been married at seventeen, Nymphias was almost there. Her domine seemed fairly disinterested, which was a good thing, and the men on the ship to Rome, they had tried to fondle and threaten her, but nothing had, thankfully, come of it. The thought still left her with sickness and upset. In Nymphias’ opinion, sharing one’s body with someone had to be a magical experience, not one of force. “I think it almost happened but I wasn’t ready,” Nymphias explained quietly but that was all she was keen to share. “And I am sorry about your life. All we can do now is pray now, perhaps we can pray together later tonight when you are free? I will pray for you too. Before bed, I mean. I think the gods like listening to people when they are sad.” Nymphias’ hands came together. The fact that Zia had once been important had Nymphias in awe, clearly impressed. Zia was now not only beautiful to her but smart and important. Her brows furrowed in confusion not long after, however. “A son? I haven’t seen any child here… And I haven’t heard anything about a husband before this… What happened?” Her heart dropped, was she about to not like what she heard? @Sara

Name: BeautyDescription: A graveyard & amusement park for my character head-canons @Anna

She could feel his gentle hand against her chin and he lifted her head up to look up at him, her eyes settled onto him and gazed into his eyes, which she often got lost in. Soon, his lips were upon her and took her breath away. She slowly closed her eyes but then opened them to see the face she came to admire so much when the brief kiss was broken. Her heart was hammering, her cheeks flushed and she could not help smiling because it was like a dream. Before she had lay in her bed, wondering about her siblings’ fate, dejected and crying but now, her nights were spent dreaming about Helios and the future she wanted with him. She, too, looked forward to when they met but wished to not hide, though she feared losing him. Another problem was Helios and Erea, the two were not fond of the other, so she came to learn. But perhaps that was something that would have to be settled at a later time. “I do believe it,” she said cheerily. Her eyes watered not from sadness but out of joy. Helios had rescued her, guided her and had been nothing but kind, she saw no reason to disbelieve him. She leaned forwards to wrap Helios in a great, warm hug, careful not to spill her drink of wine onto the garden’s floor. She could feel his warmth, it was comfortable and inviting. “I don’t ever want to be parted from you. I want to spend every day of my life with you.” She let go of him slowly, embarrassed by her sudden flow of emotions, and sat back, offering a silly grin. “Would you marry me if you could, Helios?” she asked suddenly, taking a hold of her cup but not yet drinking. “I know slaves aren’t allowed to do anything but if you could.” @Atrice

The way her blush complimented her cheeks under the glows of the sun was endearing. Bassus did not mention it in case out loud in case she became embarrassed by it. There were the more obsessive fans and then the fans who knew of him only in passing, she did not seem to be either and simply a woman living her life, but wanted to be cautious nonetheless, he never wanted to take advantage of his popularity. He was not a fan of power imbalances. To him, a man and woman had to be a team. “It does require a lot of preparation,” he said honestly with a nod. Training was rigorous and he made sure it was daily. Much like Aglaea, he found the races a lot more enjoyable than the area but he was also biased. He was a charioteer, after all, and quite enjoyed being in the midst of it. From the pressure of being watched to the cries and gasps of the crowds, it did very well to make one feel energised. “I would love to,” he said. It was strange, it was something he would have suggested had she not suggested it first. Right off, he could tell she was a thoughtful woman and that was something he admired. “Are you in the mood for honey cakes? A friend of mine mentioned it once. It’s on me.” If she was a slave, there was no use in her using what little money she was granted. Once he heard her answer, only then would he walk in whatever direction they were to find food. “And tell me a little about yourself, Agalaea. Do you like written works? How do you like Rome?” @Echo

His voice was recognisable, it was the slave of the domine with the difficult name. She covered her face with her arms still, convinced that it would stay stained for the rest of her life. Would water even clean it off? She should have educated herself first, she thought. She didn’t dare move yet. If she slowly lowered her hand, he would see the horror that was her face and the answer to his “what’s wrong” would become abundantly clear. Helios wouldn’t love her looking like this, there was no point in being alive if she wasn’t beautiful. Compared to other women, she felt rather flat-chested. Perhaps if she was stuck looking like this, she could make herself somehow bigger for Helios as compensation for the loss of a pretty face. She had to consider seeing a physician sooner rather than later about that or pray to the Roman gods really hard to restore her former beauty. “What’s wrong is that I look like…,” said Nymphias, practically choking on her words. She wanted to say “you”. Was he not the slave with the scar on his forehead? Yet for men, scars and discolouration upgraded one’s attractiveness, Attis probably gave off a rugged manly vibe to the women in his life, which made him desirable, but as a woman, she was destined to be discarded if her skin wasn’t smooth or the same colour. “Life is hard if you are an ugly girl! Now I am ugly! Even my own sister won’t recognise me! No one will!” She lowered her arms, waiting for him to confirm what she already knew: That she, Nymphias, was a monster, the sort that haunted the dreams of children late at night. “And domine will send me to the Elysium.” She hadn’t, for a second, thought of what she was unleashing onto Attis. @Sharpie

She winced as he shouted at her and felt her strength leave her the moment, he confirmed the way she thought about herself: that she was nothing. She had never been anyone or anything to anyone or herself. Her parents died, she was then taken in by others who died and her brothers abandoned, one in which solved her to slavery. Not before long, again and again, she was sold until Marcus kept her and she had remained with him the longest. She always felt like she knew and understood him, like some strange human connection, only to be proven wrong. She didn’t. Her head was snapped backwards the moment he took a hold of her hair and she grunted, her hands reached for her hair. The razor was right before eyes, she could see it clearly and for a moment, she felt nothing, not even fear. Just nothing, merely accepting that she was about to die. Still, he had not yet struck her and made her bleed so the tension was building, making her wonder when he would just get it over with. Whatever he did, she was intent on not crying. She had been robbed of everything that made her human and so would not cry as any other person might, nor did she would she scream in pain. She didn’t want to give him that satisfaction either. Instead, she kept herself emotionless so he wouldn’t know a single thing she felt or thought. She could feel the blunt end of the knife caress her cheek. He was playing with her, that much she knew. “Fuck you,” she said quietly, staring right at his callous eyes. She didn’t know if it was sudden courage or defeat. If he was going to kill her, she didn’t exactly want to die with such lack of dignity and prayed he’d end her life soon before she felt fear. She’d seen the way he killed the others, how their bodies turned pale and limp. “Just get it over with.” @Atrice

Admittedly, some were strange or downright cruel if you worshipped different gods. There was much debate even within the Jewish community about what it meant to be a Jew and a number of other things that Bassus usually didn’t think mattered at the end of the day. He liked her casual outlook to his background, he was not always awarded that. But thankfully being a charioteer meant that people often looked at his career first and then him as a person, including the god he prayed to. Or rather, the god he tried to pray to. He had led different lives. He had been a scribe, owned an orchard, lived life as a slave and was now a charioteer. He was a father and married, now widower and childless. In the end, none of it mattered. His life changed but his core was the same, so he believed. He thought nothing of her suggestion for him to lift the basin and did so, first bending his legs and then heaving it upwards with a straightened back. He let out an old man’s grunt. “I am getting old, Safinia,” he said in passing. He would have a good number of years left in him still, he hoped, but there would come a time when he would return to the earth. He didn’t bank on dying soon, especially not in a race, but didn’t fear that day either. If he could avoid it, he would try. “Lifting things this way is good for the back,” he said, holding the basin tightly. His fatherly instincts told him to educate her on something that she probably already knew. And imagine pulling a muscle as a charioteer, he couldn’t afford that. “To the kitchens?” It was probably where she wanted him to bring it anyways but asked anyways just in case and waited for her to lead the way. “So about little tidbits, think you could sneak something for me to nibble on in-between training?” @Liv

As soon as Marcellus’ presence was made known to her, Aurelia gracelessly bounded towards his location. She was sure the whole of Rome could hear her running. But not without grabbing two cups full of wine first, she was careful not to spill anything on herself or the floor. Messes were for later. She had specifically chosen him because he was both handsome and someone willing to have a good time. Sex appeal was always needed for a party. And let’s face it, half the women of Rome didn’t go to the races for the horses, they went for the sweaty eye candy and there was plenty. “Marcellus!” she called when he was in view, raising the cups above her head, doing a little dance, before shoving one in his hands when she neared him. Her eyes settled on his clothes and she made a clicking noise with her tongue. “No, no, definitely no. Sweetheart, we’re going to have to undress you and get you into something different. I want you sporting something that will make us women like cat’s in heat.” Preferably, that would be nakedness but, for now, they needed to heed some level of restraint. Spinning on her heels, her forefinger motioned for him to follow after her, leading him in the direction of her brother’s room. Her brother would not appreciate it if she lent his clothing to a charioteer but what he didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt him, it would be cleaned, and the next time, she would be prepared. Marcellus would have a new set of clothes, specifically tailored for his figure and charm. She downed the wine as she entered another room. Years of expertise allowed her the ability to do so with ease and no dripping. “Here,” she said, grabbing something from her brother’s belongings and holding it out for him to take. She herself was clad in naughty and glitzy clothing, purposely trying to show off her bosom, and all simply to be the talk of the night. She watched him, waiting for his opinion on what she had chosen. “That one should work to accentuate the intensity in your eyes and the machismo of your arms. Have faith in my eyes and every woman and man will have you tonight. In every position imaginable.” @Echo

She looked up at him and her brows crinkled in confusion before her face expression loosened. Perhaps that was his way of showing that he agreed with her and that he understood what she meant. They were speaking in codes now. “Me neither,” said Nymphias. If he was pretending they totally hadn’t had this conversation, surely she should follow suit? “I am not in love either and I don’t leave the house in secret to meet the one that I do not love. You should not go to the Gardens of Sullust with the one you don’t love.” She hoped he got the hint, that that was what he, too, should do if he hoped for their masters not to intervene. “I don’t know anyone who was in love with a woman and that their master separated the two of them,” said Nymphias. She was beginning to confuse even herself now, especially because she was speaking Latin in a peculiar way, but talking in riddles and codes was very fun and amusing. Imagine all the things their masters wouldn’t know about if slaves spoke this way and their masters were near, especially since she was forbidden from speaking her native tongue. “Who is it that you do not love? Is it Zia?” It had to be, Zia was very pretty. Was that the name she had heard when accidentally overhearing something about love and feelings? @Ejder

Valeria Flacca. Dead? What was this shit? One couldn’t kill Valeria Flacca if they even tried. The last time she had seen Valeria, they had been about fifteen. The Valeria she knew was likely not the same Valeria of present. Time had a trend of forging people into a different person entirely. And then there was something about the Longinus she grew up with shagging someone. Good on him, his sexual victory was now eternal. Plenty of things had been said about nearly everyone in Rome, which made her laugh hysterically, but reminded her of her childhood. With so-called steadiness in her life, she felt it high time that she made her apologies. She was stalling, of course, because one, she was proud and two, she had practically ditched her friends to indulge in sex and parties. Did they even want camaraderie after that? A lot had happened in her life and she was certain a lot had happened in theirs too, she left their answers to them. Aurelia married young, whisked away to the unwelcome world of motherhood and that of a wife. Two more dead husbands and many insulted lovers later, Aurelia was celebrating her life away while Valeria seemed to be happily married, living the perfect life of a Roman wife. Aurelia was not envious in the slightest but did quietly wonder why the gods favoured some over others. That her last husband Cnaeus had to die and Valeria’s husband was still striving. She arrived at what was Valeria’s place of residence and upon making her presence known was met with a dopey, little blonde slave. Aurelia pushed herself inside, uninvited, bumping shoulders with the girl while looking the child up and down. The girl was flustered, stammered and stumbled aside. “Go get Valeria Flacca, tell her Aurelia Phillipa is here to see her,” Aurelia barked as she eyed the home’s interior design and the young girl, baffled, hurriedly left to do just that. Aurelia’s slaves hung awkwardly behind her, all dressed just as expensively as her. They truly looked like a band of peacocks. She slowly circled the room, inspecting everything with her forefinger pressed against her lips. When she heard footsteps, she spun around to see her old friend and beamed impishly. “Valeria, you haven’t aged a day. I hope you aren’t too alarmed that the ghost of your past is here.” @Joaquin

Nymphias sometimes felt like a stranger even in her masters’ domus, she did not speak with most of the other slaves. But she kept her head down and did her work as well as she could. Serving her master’s elder daughter now awarded her more freedom and less stresses, she sometimes talked to the girl but felt obvious differences in their class. But Nymphias watched the other girl, imitating her Roman way of behaving. Surely, that was a good idea? But in hopes of gaining freedom, in her own silly way, she took to fashioning her hair to appear more Roman and had been experimenting with make-up to make herself more likeable. Clio, her friend, had worn kohl around her eyes the day they met and Nymphias thought it looked beautiful on the older woman. In her room, the girl fumbled with the product, caking it around her eyes hurriedly, smiling widely while humming. Her hands were shaky, talentless, and unaccustomed to running make-up along her face in any way, least of all kohl, she had never had use for it. Looking into the mirror, she was stunned to see that she looked nothing like Clio and instead like someone had punched both her eyes a million times until it was blackened. In panic, Nymphias searched the room for water to wash her face but there was, of course, nothing. She tried wiping it off with a cloth but the cloth was dirtied and it just spread. Getting up, she decided to rush somewhere, before anyone saw her, to wash her face. She raced out of the room, practically crying but fighting from wiping her tears, and then down the hall. Turning the corner, she collided into someone. She didn’t see who it was yet, instead choosing to cover her face with her arms. “Don’t look at me!” she cried loudly, believing she had collided with a fellow slave. “I’m hideous.” @Sharpie

Titus tailed after her, his motions seemingly leisurely and taking his time. As he wandered the Ludus, his eyes did not bother to observe his surroundings and instead was bolted on the woman’s figure from behind. Once inside her room, he made himself comfortable at the chair that she pointed out for him. He looked about the place, it looked hardly to his tastes. His own home was lavish for a man of his position while the Elysium was left as it was, it only served one purpose to him. There was an air of superiority with him as he raised his chin and his eyes met her. “Yes,” said Titus simply, snapping his fingers. She made a good impression on him, she was as of yet neither too fragile nor too bold and looked to his comforts first, behaving every bit like a good businesswoman. Still, she was a slave and he looked at her no differently than he looked at mutts or the filth from under one’s feet. “As I said, I have a proposal,” said Titus, getting straight to business. “I own the Elysium, I am sure you have heard of it, but I work in other avenues as well.” That was as far as he was willing to frankly admit in regards to his criminal ties. “You’re a gladiator. You will die one day when you grow too old or too weak to fight but I can offer you freedom. Become a part of the Elysium and I promise you, you will be making a good amount of money to see you through your years and without fear of death. You would have enough to buy your freedom.” He doubted a woman like her would fear death, gladiators saw death everyday but he was offering her a way out. And he had no intention of ever paying the woman well. “But there are other alternatives, should that not interest you. I am willing to negotiate.” @Echo

@Sharpie I would love a snark-fest thread with Attis! Did you want one with Aurelia or with Nymphias? (Making sure I'm reading English correctly here!).

The woman’s “no” sounded like a definite answer, what with the way she choked. Nymphias frowned, she had imagined an outing with just the two women, becoming very good friends while they both spoke about things, primarily love because, at Nymphias’ age, that was mostly all she thought about. Zia was right on one thing, the Romans weren’t good people. Except one but he felt like a dream. Still, she had to be fair, the Romans seemed to have eyes and ears everywhere. For the most part. They seemed a little slow with noticing her meetings with Helios, which was for the best. A wide smile, Nymphias sat down as instructed. Nymphias enjoyed being in the presence of an older woman after tending to her masters’ children, even if the elder was closer in age to her. Being near to Zia made Nymphias somehow feel more mature already and watched her behaviour curiously, intent on imitating. “I was stolen by men,” she mumbled. She often avoided those memories, they were still quite raw and felt nauseous with the thought of her abduction. “I don’t remember all of it anymore. It all happened instantly like this…” She snapped her fingers. “I think my village burned down and the Romans attacked. I lost my family but my sister is in Rome as a slave too. I don’t know about my mother or brother. What about you? What was your life like before Rome?” This was a conversation she didn’t want but supposed it was one of the steps to forming a friendship. @Sara

The Romans had a talent for choosing Greek names for slaves, it seemed. Unless she was a Jew from Greece who happened to be in Rome, which wasn’t far-fetched but something told him otherwise. But who was he to judge? He had been there once. “Aglaea,” said Bassus, repeating her name and giving her his undivided attention. “Ah! The name of the goddess of beauty, is it not? One of the Charites?” But she had asked him a question about him and his work. Bassus was the sort who could sit and listen to someone talk about themselves for hours and feel completely fulfilled. He did feed off the energy of fans shouting from the stands and his fellow charioteers, he revelled in the attention but when it came down to it, he much preferred learning about others and having one-on-one conversations. “Yes, I am. I race for the Whites,” he said proudly with a nod. In his opinion, there was no better team, even if they were a band of the oddest personalities mixed together. Something he never voiced out loud. “You ought to come see me race some time if your line of work allows for it. Perhaps bring those you serve, if it would please them.” He extended a gentle invitation to those she worked for and allowing her to see him again, if she found his person agreeable. “You won’t be disappointed, I promise you. And are you in the markets for work or for your own leisure?” @Echo

Azarion looked suspicious of him. Did he think he was going to lead him into an alleyway and stab him? Bassus carefully watched the boy gesture and so Bassus pointed ahead of them. “It’s not far from here, you want me to care you?” said Bassus in jest but he figured there would be plenty of carrying when the day was done. Unless, of course, with Bassus’ so-called expertise, the boy ended up in a pile of disrobed women. Who wouldn’t be all over the little guy? He was handsome and talented, thought Bassus. Rome was a melting pot. Bassus had grown used to being around people of all shapes and sizes, no matter their ability and background. While Azarion wasn’t the warmest figure, Bassus did not take any of it at heart, merely accepting the boy as he was. Bassus wrapped his arm around the boy’s shoulder, dragging him in the direction of their destination. “Is there a woman in your life, Azarion?” said Bassus cheerfully, looking down at the boy. The boy was now upgraded from being a mere stable boy. In this small way, they could celebrate through Bassus drinking with him but teaching him how to navigate the seas of wooing as well. “All these Romans worry about who they are going to marry but you, my friend, are destined to have any woman you desire. A little direction from me and they’ll be screaming your name. Not just from the stands but…” He gave Azarion a wink. “You understand, don’t you?” He was sixteen, was he not? Although Bassus’s own head had been in books at that age, Bassus remembered being that age very well. He had just begun noticing girls his age. “All it takes is standing tall and confidence.” @Chevi

“This” sent Aculia jumping out of her skin, she kept her gaze down and bowed her head, the same way dogs showed submission to those larger and more dominant. She had never been the passive sort but he had made her this way and he had that power. Years ago, she would have laughed at anyone in her same position, wondered why they didn’t just leave or fight back. She loved to hunt and kill for not only survival but sport. Now, the mere thought of it all reminded her of the slaves Marcus had killed, how their skin turned from colourful to a sickening blue-ish white. The memories seemed to roll into one. And she wanted to avoid thoughts of death, even if it was always ever-present. Without any other word from her, she hurried to the kitchen, set down the jug and brought rags to clean the wine up. Her hands were shaking, her breathing quickened but difficult. Slowly, she wiped the mess clean and put things away. Her thoughts were racing. The door was not far from her, freedom lay beyond it but she would only be dragged back or worse. She stood up and placed the rags back in the kitchen, hearing her heart beat against her chest. Her eyes settled on a knife, glittering in the soft light. She did entertain the thought, to kill him if he even tried to do so to her and to take him down with her. Killing wasn’t foreign to her, though her game would be larger and deadlier than what she was used to. But to survive, she had to be smart and play things his way. She headed to her master’s office and lingered by the door, eyes downwards. Standing before her master took more strength than any courage she had mustered before a hunt. “Master,” she said emptily. @Atrice

Edited to include my newest, Aurelia Phillipa Would love threads & plots!

“Good,” said Titus simply. His eyes bore into her, untiring, already calculating and steps ahead of their present conversation. Her golden hair and foreign features made her look exotic enough. Women as a whole and some men, to him, were just play things, mere tools for him to make his own way in the world. His sister was lumped with the rest of them. She was just a thing, even if he felt a connection through blood. He had held high hopes for her but she disappointed time and time again with her weakness, the same weakness he had as a boy, being someone else’s bitch. But things were different now, times had changed. He liked to think that no one, not even the gods had power over him. “Titus Aspanius Lupus,” he said, not yet exposing who exactly he was or what he did for a living. His name was one that he hoped would one day be heard on every corner of Rome. A mentor of old once told him that knowledge was power; however, to Titus, the only power one could have in life was money. Without it, what were you? Nothing. It was a life he was not willing to live again. “I am a man of business with powerful associates.” By powerful, he meant criminals. “I have come here to bargain. I have use for some of your talent and have a proposal that I believe might award you with more freedom, should you accept. Shall we speak somewhere more private?” He then offered a smile, there was no true feeling to it as his eyes did not brighten or show any ounce of joy. Admittedly, he cared little for what a woman of her status would get out of his offer but a business proposal was often a two-way street. Not that he gave some who crossed his path that privilege. @Echo

Nymphias nodded her head profusely, proud of her efforts. She had always enjoyed cooking, cleaning and making things presentable. A long time ago, at least it felt that way now, it was in hopes of becoming a bride and one day a wife. Now, her future was uncertain but longed to be free and with her family. His compliment sent her smile widening from ear to ear and her cheeks turned rosy, likely visible against her pale British skin. She watched him from where she lay, practically entranced and it was only when he sat down, she pushed herself up. Taking a hold of the wine, she poured some into a cup and slid it towards Helios before pouring herself some. She’d visited enough now to be comfortable around him and trust him. He was the sole person she trusted in Rome as of yet. She didn’t expect that to change. “My domine sometimes gives me money,” explained Nymphias cheerfully with another nod of her head, sitting back down onto her bottom. “I saved money for this. It wasn’t a bother.” It wasn’t as though she bought much else, merely saving as much money as she could. For what, she didn’t know but she was also, for the most part, not in want of anything. Except love and family, of course. Whenever the sky darkened and the stars came alight, she hoped that it would paint an even more romantic picture above their little picnic. She watched him, spellbound. “Thank you for always being so supportive of me,” she said softly, holding her cup, her thumb playing against its side. “I did all this for you because…” Her eyes darted downwards. “You are very special to me.” @Atrice

Bassus usually avoided places of worship, preferring to practice in quiet by himself. Religion, to him, was something intimate, like a marriage or sex. It was between you and your god. Still, he wasn’t fond of Romans to begin with and had recently decided to make more of an effort to get to know more of his own people in Rome, particularly in their place of worship. There was no hurry to return to the tracks to train and so Bassus decided to travel the markets. As he ventured, his eyes locked on a woman, who then gave him a smile. Hearing his name in public wasn’t out of the ordinary. At first, it had been strange but he grew to welcome it, giving his “fans” the attention they wanted, if only to make more of a name for himself and his team. The more that came to see and cheer the Whites on, the better. While he much preferred reading, the attention did boost his ego and the coin he found in his purse. He figured the woman was either a fan or someone who hoped to talk about the service, which he was open to. “Yes, the one and only,” he said, flashing a smile of his own, but there were plenty of Bassus’s in Rome but how many of them were the Bassus? He felt bad for not knowing her name and was interested in getting to know her as a person, beyond appearances. “And what is the name that belongs to the beauty standing right before me?” @Echo