Beauty

@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!

The gods of RP demanded it and who am I to deny the gods?

Aurelia Phillipa.

36 | June 39CE | Senatore | Widow | Bi/Heterosexual | Original | Annabel Scholey

Personality.

She can be defined in modern terms as a “party girl”, “primadonna” or a “frat boy in a woman’s body”. She enjoys being the life of the party. Chugging down drinks, dancing, staying up late, eating unhealthily at peculiar hours, chit-chatting, and (and gods forbid) flirting and/or toying with most that cross her path. It’s all for the sake of good fun. In her view, life is too short to be boring and likes feeling alive and younger. Generally speaking, she doesn’t care what people think of her and has a knack for pulling other women into her decadence, being bad influence. She spends money like nobody’s business on clothes and things she doesn’t even need. Living with her brother, she decorates his domus with unnecessary things to make it prettier, always investing in little projects as a result.

Her slaves are often sent to marketplaces for shopping or made to focus on the look of the domus first before anything else. She’s hands-off until décor or parties are concerned then she’s particular. While her attitude to those unfortunate is “let them eat cake”, she does engage in charity and prayer. Outside of partying and her materialistic hobbies, she plays instruments and enjoys going to the countryside. In relationships, friendship or romantic, she likes to be “on top”.

She’s experimentative, talkative, adventurous, lively, and always in need of constant stimulation and entertainment, making her a good companion if you want excitement. However, she can be temperamental, assertive and even combative, especially when under stress or when feeling justified, so she can also easily get on other people’s nerves. On top of the fact she seems to think she’s still in her twenties and peaked in her adolescence. She doesn’t bother with conniving or plotting, merely allowing life to lead her in whatever direction it takes her, being naturally carefree. This is shown also in her approach to being a parent. She loves her children but never wanted to be a mother, let alone marry, none of it appealed to her, but “went with the flow” as it was expected of her. As a mother, she is more like a friend or an older sister, whispering secrets and speaking plainly.

Inside, she’s quite empty and lost hence the partying and drinking to drown out her boredom and fill in a great abyss. And at her age too. But she likes to feel young, desirable, and free of obligations. She has a “Hakuna Matata” stance and does as she pleases. Her character is likely judged when/if known and rumours are surely abound. Not to mention that she lost three husbands and has had many lovers (of varying status) so is mockingly called “The Black Widow”. Her late husbands and ex-lovers are also subjects of a song sung by her slaves: “Bedded, Dumped, Died. Bedded, Dumped, Survived.” She had been devoted and faithful once but has battled with long-term promises, preferring spontaneity, and is cautious of commitment because she fears a repetition of the past.

Appearance

She stands at a medium and unremarkable height with copper brown hair and hazel eyes. She is pale for a Roman and her features are rounded, making her look younger than she is, which she takes pride in. She tries to retain her youth by using certain “products” and make-up, signs of grey hairs and wrinkles makes her anxious, reminding her of her own mortality and fearing to lose the one thing she is proud of: Her youthful beauty. She likes to look good, dressing like an exhibitionist fashionista, wearing colourful clothing with vibrant, lighter colours to purposely appear younger, and dons herself with glitzy jewellery because she likes bling and glam. Having given birth to five children, she has struggled with “baby fat” on her stomach and fluctuating weight gain throughout some years, and her unhealthy eating and constant drinking likely does not help with this but she is currently of an average weight as she exercises (in a way appropriate for a woman of her position).

Family

Father: Gaius Aurelius Philipus (birth father, deceased), Tiberius Cuspius Brutus (informal adoptive father, deceased)

Mother: Albia Flavia (birth mother, deceased), Rufia Acacia (informal adoptive mother, deceased)

Siblings: Numerius Cuspius Brutus Aurelianus (older birth brother), Cuspia Brutia (informal adoptive sister)

Spouse:

-       Faustus Fabius Catullus, born 31CE (deceased since 58), married in 54CE.

-       Decimus Salvius Marcellus, born 39CE (deceased since 65), married in 59CE.

-       Cnaeus Antonius Secundus, born 45CE (deceased since 70), married in 67CE.

Children:

-       Appius Fabius Catullus, born 56 CE.

-       Salvia Marcella, born 60 CE.

-       Marcus Salvius Marcellus, born in 64CE.

-       Antonia Secunda Major, born 67CE (deceased since 72).

-       Antonia Secunda Minor, born 70CE (blind since 73).

Extended family: Her children’s uncles, aunts, cousins, and her adoptive sister’s husband and children

Other: Body slave/other personal slaves (all made to look fashionable), Valeria Flacca (childhood friend)

History

She was born in the summer and from a young age was privileged and educated well. She had an older brother born before her. Fate had it that the two were complete opposites. He should have been born with her libido and thirst for entertainment and she with his self-restraint. At a young age, she was a ball of energy, wreaking havoc. The child that painted on the walls? That was her. The child who was always found with bruises and scrapes? Her again. She looks back at her younger years with fondness, especially at the moments she spent with her birth family. She could not sew to save her life and her dancing was dreadful. If it had not been for her love of fashion and being a social butterfly, she may have never later found herself three husbands and had five children. Her birth father died when she was young and in 47CE, when she was eight, her brother was formally adopted by another family. Some time around the age of twelve, her birth mother died.

By the time she reached thirteen, her love of thrill was not quelled. She was still young but now budding into a young woman. She was introduced to romantic dalliances by older, more experienced friends. As a teenager, she was more interested in being around other people than at home but did concentrate in her education in being a proper lady. Whenever something big or life-changing happened at home, she was often out with people, craving to belong somewhere. The older youth she hung around were bad influences and so ignored better friends, such as Valeria Flacca, thus shaping her into the woman she would become.

When she was fifteen, she married her first husband, Faustus Fabius Catullus, in 54CE, later having a son in early 56. She was happy at first but as a mother and wife, she became distant, simply because she was not content with marriage, how pregnancy changed her body, and it was her first time as a mother and wife at a young age. To spice up her life, she had affairs out of boredom. Her husband knew about this but did not care, accepting their son as his and later left to fight in Britannia in late 56. He was a stiff but good and patient man and nothing like Aurelia in personality, she had fallen in love with him in the beginning because he was knowledgeable and had introduced her to both literature and music, the latter she came to love. His mind was admirable but he reminded her too much of her brother, who the man got on better with. She often wondered if the two would have been better off married together instead.

By 58CE, her first husband Faustus died on the shores of Britannia with a letter addressed to Aurelia, telling her that he loved her still and anticipated his death. She never read it and married her second husband, Decimus Salvius Marcellus, the following year, a man she had seen previously. By 60CE, she had a daughter and then a son in 64. Her eldest son was well-cared for but it was not long before he grew troublesome, a response to his mother and her new husband fighting all the time over small things. Despite their arguments, they thought to keep their marriage but saw other people out of spite. The older she became, the more dissatisfied she was with life. Nothing seemed to attract to her, everything was bleak but she filled the void by hosting extravagant parties and making sure to be the first on guest lists.

By 67CE, she re-married for a third time after her previous husband, Decimus, had been found dead in a latrine while on business away from home in 65 with Aurelia’s brother. They had parted on bad terms. Her third marriage with the cocksure Cnaeus Antonius Secundus did surprise her but she went with it. She ended up happy, even if her husband was young, but together they went trekking in the country and played music until the dead of night. While married to him, she remained abstinent and loyal. She had two daughters, both red-headed, and he considered her other children as his own, even wanting to adopt them.

From mid-to-late 69CE, she slowly watched as Cnaeus’ health declined and was confined to his bed. Delirious, he was unable to move and talk. In late 70CE, Cnaeus finally died of his illness, her second daughter by him was born, and her elder daughter later died in 72CE. Aurelia experienced intense despondency those two years. A widow with broken friendships, she mourned her daughter, felt alone, and contemplated poisoning herself but had family to think about and relocated to live with her brother. In 73, her youngest child became blind, adding to her stresses but learned to adapt to her child’s needs, and Aurelia regressed, returning to old habits to cope.

Time has passed since her losses, her eldest son is nineteen and old enough to marry, her two middle children will be following suit, and her youngest is striving. Overall not much has changed since 73, she’s “happy” with the way her life is but because she feels cursed and unlucky, she is getting involved with charity and prayer as penance and is trying to make amends with old friends. But old habits die hard, she’s self-destructive, and she’s content with partying, gossiping, shopping, and behaving forever young.

Beauty | GMT | Discord

“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

Titus found himself in front of a wall in the Elysium, peering through carefully constructed holes, he could see the sweaty backside of one of his clients, rising up and down as the sound of one-sided groans filled his ears but he felt nothing, merely emptiness, as he simply watched. And yet, just for the sake of it, his hand reached underneath his garments but it was in that moment, as his hand sought his own flesh, that there was a loud rumble. It was so loud that it had practically rendered his ears useless.

Suddenly the wall fell before him crumbled, pellets of rock hit against him, and then fall into a large heap of stone near to his feet. Dust collected in the air and on the bed opposite of him, the whore and his client both stared at him in bewilderment. His hand around his cock and his eyes were bolted on them, looking at them in return. They stared back. He stared back at them. Their eyes did not move their gazes from him and he did not let his eyes waver, glaring back at them.

It was almost like an eternity, their eyes linking in a moment of uncertainty and chaos, but in reality, it had only been for a split second. The ceiling began to give in and the world shuddered, Titus watched carefully as a crack from above slowly made way towards the couple. Once it reached them, the a part of the ceiling collapsed right on top of them. Their yells had barely penetrated the air before both were unavoidably crushed, the bright Roman sky could be seen.

Titus sprinted for the door and let his instinct control his feet, bringing him to where his sister was last. A whore covering her tits, swathed in blood and dust, was weeping as she attempted to flee. Coming to a narrow hallway, Titus took a hold of the woman and tossed her in the way of a collapsing wall. A man lay partially crushed by a wall with blood pooling at his mouth, his pained eyes following Titus as he groaned. Titus ignored him as he entered one of the rooms with shaky feet. In one plunge, he grabbed Gaia and dragged her underneath a table. 

@Joaquin

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

His yelling only made her jump, she kept her eyes on the floor as he shouted. She tried to retreat into the nooks of her mind but his anger only pulled her into reality. Her stomach knotted and she breathed heavily, feeling as if finally, after such careful treading, she would finally die. She contemplated on striking him with the vase and plunging a shard into his neck but being a runaway slave, on top of being a murderer, wasn’t an easy task. If one was caught, life was going to be very difficult and she would fare just about the same as she was now, if not worse. Here, she knew what to expect.

She knew to clean it up but he hadn’t given her the order so instead, she remained where she was, head hanging low and eyes on the mess in front of her, the whole world a shadow around her. “I-I can buy some at the market,” she mumbled, assuming paper would be easy to find. Aculia had little clue as to how expensive paper was, she’d never bothered with paper her entire life and spent her entire life as a hunter. “I can make it up to you. Don’t get rid me of me, I can be useful.” She  felt the need to release herself out of fear, the need to flee. “I.. haven’t told anyone about… I’ve seen you shave, I can do it when you’re too busy and make it up to you. I can get the money and buy paper.”

The more she thought of it, the more he was cornering her but to leave his wrath, she had to think very carefully on how and if she stayed, she needed to be more careful and understand him better. Perhaps she was in the wrong. She had, after all, drowned one of his livelihood in wine.

@Atrice

Nymphias had spent much of her day with the eldest of her master’s daughters, serving her was a lot simpler than her younger sister. All these years Nymphias wanted to be a mother, she had helped women with their children back in Britannia but since caring for the young Roman child, Nymphias and being met with reality made her realise how much work went into caring for a child on your own. And yet, surely it would be different when she had Helios’ children? Nymphias’ mind went running as she wandered the domus, small feet pit patting against the cool, pale floor.

The rain outside made her think of Britannia where days seemed either grey or wet. She never thought in her entire life, she would be glad to see rain. She made her way towards the gardens, simply to sit somewhere comfortably and watch the way the rain hit the bobbing flora. She knew better than to rush out in it, she was a good little Roman slave now. It was the best way to be freed, behaving just the way Romans wanted her to. When she reached her destination, Florus escaped the weather and Nymphias jumped out of the way. She was awkward around him for a number of reasons. Firstly, he was male. Secondly, he seemed so distant. But she’d heard all about his secret love affair by now, just like her secret love affair with Helios.

She scooted closer towards him and then looked around them, then leaning in to whisper. “You have to hide your love,” she said innocently before extending her hand so that droplets would collect in the palm of her hand. She stared at the rain. “Masters don’t like slaves being in love. You didn’t hear it from me.” Wasn’t that along the lines of what Helios had said? That Romans even owned one’s heart?

@Ejder

Late May!

He left the brothel to be tended to by his sister, Gaia Lupa, as he headed out to the Ludus with another man, following after him. He was tall, golden-haired, sharp-faced and stupid. The man’s presence appealed to him, if only because he accumulated some wealth by renting gladiators. Of course, the man was innocent of Titus’ truer motives but it gave Titus a reason to explore other options of making money, his mind always ticking as he sought after opportunities. The day was warm, sweat collected at his brow and when they arrived at the Ludus, his eyes laid upon a woman. He watched her for some time before turning to the other man.

“Who is she?” he said, pointing to the blonde.

“I believe her name is Annis,” said the man, gawking at Titus.

“Bring her to me,” said Titus quickly but the man did not budge, simply staring. Titus’ hand then wrapped around the man’s neck and shoved his head downwards. “Don’t keep me waiting.” His tone was barely cruel, merely disconnected. Like a hawk, his eyes followed as the man headed forwards, muttering a “Titus Aspanius Lupus wants to speak with you” to the woman and then pointing to Titus before motioning for her to follow him. Titus’ face was bare, revealing no reaction, as he waited and only spoke when she was indeed close.

“Annis,” he said before vacant eyes wafted to the lanista who then scuttled away. His attention returned, studying her. “How long have you been shedding blood?”

@Echo

Little girl? Nymphias was a woman now! She opened her mouth and then closed it, taken aback but immediately felt every bit of courage she built in the last few months become nothing more than an image in her mind because of another woman’s tongue. Ever since the woman’s arrival, Nymphias felt a distance between them and couldn’t understand what she had done to offend Zia. Nymphias was so used to a loving family and friends back in Britannia that when met with the fury of anyone, she was at a lost.  But Zia’s behaviour might’ve been because she was frightened, thought Nymphias, the way Nymphias had been when she first arrived and felt alone. Nymphias had been miserable herself in the beginning.

Noticing the gesture, Nymphias beamed happily, eyes shining with joy, and joined the older woman, sitting down opposite from Zia. Nymphias’ hands came together tightly to stop herself from trembling. Nymphias kept gawking at the older woman, her eyes following the way her face curved and her powerful eyes. She was so beautiful and seemed so mature. She didn’t know a single thing about Zia and didn’t think the woman knew anything about her in return but it didn’t stop Nymphias.

“It’s very important,” repeated Nymphias. “I want to get naked with you and go to the baths. The ones for slaves. Just us.” It was a thought that randomly entered her mind but reasoned it was the best way they could get to know one another and the water would be cool against their skin in this weather, wouldn’t it? They could even braid each other’s hair, she thought, giggle together, even go shopping for pretty things and stay up late together talking about men. “It would be good for us to be friends because we can make each other very happy, we are the same. Romans are… good people but not our friends. Do you know what I mean?” She wasn’t the most fond of Romans but tried to be subtle. How could she forget how they killed her brother and took her family, including Erea, from her?

@Sara

“I got lost” caught his attention as did what followed. Would what he perceived as fear give her disorientation as he marched opposite of Bacchus’ Cup? It’d distort her understanding of where they were to begin with. Those under stress often became vulnerable and the world became a mere mirage. That was, until something snapped them out of it. “Of course,” he said without hesitation, there was often a deadness to his eyes while the muscles of his face moved to showcase his so-called emotions. He did feel things, just not the same way as other men and whatever he did feel, let alone think, he buried deep inside him. The thought did cross his mind, to kidnap her, no differently than some gods did with mortals, and lock her away. Would anyone even notice? Did he think himself that highly to compare himself with gods?

“Allow me,” he said, taking the palla from her hand. It was soft and smelt quite distinct in a good way. She seemed to have fidgeted with it. He thought of keeping it, pawning it for money but would that be too low, even for him? He even entertained keeping it. Just because. Titus turned his heels to begin walking. “Come along,” he said to her like she was a dog. His sister, her mother, “Vesuvia” the blonde woman he used, none of them were human to him. Not that he looked at most as human. For some people, alienation made it simpler to abuse but for him, he didn’t need that distinction between human and non-human in the first place to do what he did.

“Tell me, what is your name?” he said casually. “And what were you doing out here?”

@Liv

Nymphias could neither read nor write so sending a letter of sorts to Helios was out of the question. So when they met at some point during the spring, she had told him a time, which was the evening, and the location, which was the Garden of Sallust, the place where he’d taken her, and then a date in June. She did not want them walking together because it was to be a surprise. With money given to her by her domina, she bought some wine and cakes with honey. The latter, which she was addicted to. Life seemed better to her, perhaps because time had eased some of her hurts or because she felt closer to being free, but she still missed her family dearly, particularly her sister, who she was aware of being in Rome as a slave. Nymphias had been promoted, her Latin improved, and, if you asked her, had found love. She hoped her sister was faring just as well, if not better.

Nymphias found a secluded area of the gardens where they had been many weeks ago. She dressed in her best gown, fashioned her hair in a way that appeared Roman and the hairpin she had bought when with her friend Clio was worn on her head. She was no noble woman and so had nothing to make her truly stand out but did what she could with what she had. To pass the time while she waited for him, she had created a plethora of crowns made of flowers, carefully and perfectly crafted, and other chains of flowers were present to “decorate” the area, making it appear more wistful.

Nymphias had zero knowledge in how wooing went but her heart was in the right place. When finished decorating, she quickly laid on her side, arm propped up by the elbow, her cheek resting on her hand while the other rested on her hip bone. In this position, she thought she looked naughty but it was something that would likely look incredibly awkward to anyone should they have passed her by. By the time Helios arrived, she grinned widely.

“Hello, Helios,” she said playfully, she hoped he was stunned by the amount of preparing she’d done. In reality, it wasn’t much but for her it was. “Care for some wine?”

@Atrice

@Echo The ludus is good for me! I have an idea that would work well with the ludus (works better for the title I have in mind).

And a Jewish Temple sounds great!  He can be found anywhere so if you find yourself changing your mind, it's all good! 

@Echo That sounds good to me! I'm in the process of replying/starting to threads (and trying to go in order) so I should get something up by tomorrow-ish or so  Bassus could be literally anywhere so don't worry about location. Any preference for Annis/Titus? 

@Echo

Bassus & Agalaea: It looks like they can both use a break from the Romans. Sounds like a plan! 

Titus & Annis or Gaius: I'm fine with either one. Titus and Annis sounds hilarious though (Warning: either way, he will be terrible ). I think we can do Nymphias/Annis in the future! 

I'm cool if you want to do one or both. I'm pretty much open to everything lol. I have a bit of threads to get to/start but I leave the choice up to you as to whether I start or you do  I won't be offended either way, just lmk what you prefer!

@Echo I hope you don't mind me posting in here. I see Aglaea is Jewish!  I have Bassus who is also Jewish. He's not a slave though, he's a charioteer. He's a bit of a yin-and-yang character but he's a good guy. Flutters from being very much into himself (he fancies himself a celebrity) to being humble and charitable, he can be playful but a bit empty and sad.   

I have other characters as well, if not him. I have Nymphias, who is a Briton slave to Titus Scul-something Rufus and his wife Valeria played by Joaquin. She's naïve and overly girly, she's the little sister of Charis (slave of Tertius, brother to Livia's husband. If I have that right) so there's a connection with Agalae but might be funny to see her bump into Annis, who looks to be the complete opposite of her. A brothel owner Titus Aspanius Lupus (I guess if Gaius visits brothels, he might visit the Elysium?) and then Aculia, a Gaul slave to Marcus Barbatius who shaves. Not much ideas for her but if Gaius needs a shave, he might bump into her at Marcus's place but she can also bump into Aglaea or Annis too. Just ideas, feel free to ignore! 

Another Jew might have become offended but Bassus was quite patient at times, likening her comment to unfamiliarity if anything. Admittedly, he struggled with his own fate from time to time. On one hand, he believed nothing else but on the other, it was hard to believe in a god that took your loved ones from you. It was hard to devote to something, anything, these days except for survival. Bassus merely laughed, his lips spreading into a smile. “You can say that,” he commented as he followed her to the fountain in a leisurely pace. The sun bore down and like a curious cat, he watched as she moved the basin.

“Long enough to know who are worth my time,” he said, leaning up against something and folding his arms. He liked to think he was perceptive of other people, though some were easier to read than others. Safinia was not so simple. In a way, she was almost distant but Bassus did not take it to heart. “I would say employment is steady so long as you do your part, stay out of trouble and don’t die.” Death was more likely for a charioteer. However, death could come to anyone and at any time. But he wasn’t being serious. “As for sorest losers, I would say everyone is a sore loser in Rome.”

The fact that the general population of Rome read and enjoyed the works of Landicus only reinforced this idea in Bassus. There was something comforting about the sun’s warmth, it reminded him of home. But home was a long way away and he was likely to never return. His Jewish practices to be spent alone. “So you asked me if I knew a lot about Jews,” he asked, more out of curiosity. He often didn’t go out of his way to mention his background, even if, perhaps, it was obvious enough looking at him that he wasn’t at all Roman. “How would you feel if I told you I was one? Would that change your impression?”   

@Liv

Nymphias was a little self-important now, if only because she had been promoted. No longer was she the whimpering little child that she was. She was a grown woman now. She was mature. At least, that’s what she thought. Now she even tried fashioning her hair in ways that appeared Roman-like, after much struggle and awkwardness, of course, and she prayed to their gods now, Helios had told her it was a good idea and if she continued to listen to him, she would be free in no time. Together, they would be married and have a humble number of seven children. After working many long hours, she was dismissed, giving Nymphias time to herself.

She walked with her head held high and tried to adopt older mannerisms. She had been promoted, after all. This was how promoted individuals behaved. Rome was hot now, so hot that she felt her skin bubbling and the air around her was thick. Wandering through the domus, her gaze fell onto a familiar figure. When she first met Zia, she had looked up to the woman, even wanted to be like her, she had seemed so confident despite enslavement, but as time went on, Nymphias’ wasn’t sure anymore. She did not have a single cruel bone in her body and hoped in some small way, they could one day become friends. And she was promoted now, who was she to fear anyone?

“Zia,” Nymphias said, playing with her fingers, for a moment her “mature” façade disappeared, showing her youth and evident nervousness. “What are you doing now? I want to ask you something. It is very important.” In reality, the thought just popped into her head. “Are you free?”

@Sara

He was “glad” she was eager. At his words, Aculia’s lips remained thinly spread across her face, neither developing into a warm smile nor a frown. She watched him, seeing merely human flesh, no different than her own. Seeing him that way made it hard for her to want to take a knife and slice one of the veins of his neck. Perhaps it was the sliver of humanity in her that the man seemed to lack.

Swallowing her thoughts whole, she slowly backed up, heels pressing against the floor, and headed into the kitchen, emerging later with a jug and cup in hand. She carefully set the cup down on the table with a clink before gently pouring contents within the jug, just the way she had when he had guests being shaved. She could practically fell her brow perspiring and hear her own heart banging against her chest loudly. Her hands were trembling, trying not to spill even a drop but the palms of her hands were warm and wet. In attempts to steady her pouring, one of her hands moved to hold the handle better but in that, her other hand slipped, causing the wine to soak everything on the table.

“Shit,” was all she could say under her breath after the damage was done, gripping tightly onto the now empty jug. Partly for security but also in case she needed it, not that she was even sure she could use it, even in self-defence. It didn’t matter if she’d once been a hunter or did push-ups every morning to retain her athletic physique. Slouching her shoulders, she avoided all eye contact like a submissive dog. “I’ll clean it up,” she said quietly as if somehow it might lessen the blow.

@Atrice