Beauty

“Yes, like Caesar,” he said sarcastically, looking down at her and trying to fight back a laugh. For all her seriousness, there was some strange innocence to those words. At least, the way she said it. He’d met important government officials of Judea, certainly not the Caesar himself. Scribes played a very important role in his country, a similar way that senatores did in Rome. But Bassus did not long for his old life, he simply went where life took him. There was no point wanting anything.

“A very important text written by important Jews or their god, depending on who you talk to,” he simply explained to the young woman, soon entering into the kitchen. The coolness of it certainly took away every bit of heat that had been prickling against his skin and making him feel more like a roasted boar than a human.

He copied the way Safinia placed the leeks down. He’d cooked for himself before, he wasn’t a novice when it came to cooking but he certainly was not as skilled as someone who was a cook or their assistant. Bassus waited for her to continue her work as he looked around. Kitchens where he was from was set very differently but being rather adaptable, Bassus learned quickly to accept it.

“You must be quite the lucky young woman working in the shade all day,” he said, folding his arms. His hands now smelt of leeks. “While I’m sure you are fully capable on handling yourself…” Young people liked hearing that sort of thing. “Anything you’d like to know about this place? Or who to avoid when the races get really rowdy?” It was always good to give a head’s up or see if one of the newest members of the White Team was missing something that they otherwise wanted to know.

@Liv

Bassus didn’t doubt that the establishment took a lot to keeping run, most businesses did. Bassus’ own family had owned lands, one in which they cultivated into an orchard to earn more coin than they already had. Admittedly, Bassus did not like Gaia’s brother, the owner of the brothel. There was something off about him and the unhappiness of the prostitutes in the work place left Bassus with a bitter taste in his mouth. But the man had money and was a born and raised Roman citizen, and with a touch of power came evil.

“My dear, these claims are sorely mistaken,” he said, seemingly coy and swirling his drink before downing it. “Certainly my stunts, my moves are all real.” She wasn’t entirely wrong but the people weren’t fond of engineered games, they wanted something real, not fake or they got bored, and that was what Bassus liked to give them, if he could. He’d give a trick or two for the people to gasp before moving his chariot in a way to entice cheers. “You sound like you could use a visit to the circus maximus and see the races for yourself and if it looks rigged to you. I tell you what, I’ll give you the perfect seat, perhaps next to the infamous Aelia. She often gives us a visit.” He nodded around him. “It will be a day away from all this and locking arms with notorious company.”

He then reached for some grapes. “And when that time comes, you ought to give me one of these midwifery literature,” he said, deeply interested in what she had stated before. He did not have many female friends, and much preferred them too to his male ones, so he took a woman’s friendship where he could get it. “There are some Jewish passages that state a midwife knows whether a child is a boy or girl based on where there face is confronting. A boy looks to the ground because he was made from earth and a girl upwards because she was made from a man’s rib. Are you made from your brother’s rib?” A mocking jest towards her brother.

@Joaquin

“May I?” the man said and Nymphias nodded her head, crouching down felt rather uncomfortable, feeling every bit like a toad. The moment he showed her the bronze coin, her mind went swimming elsewhere, even if she fought to pay attention. “Quadruplets,” said quietly Nymphias with a nod of her head. She didn’t know what a “prow of a galley” was but took his word for it so she nodded again.

And then the rest of what he said made little sense to her, she phased out. Numbers and coins were not her forté, sewing, dancing, and pretty things were. If one looked at Nymphias, she would have been noticeably bored out of her mind but trying to pay attention for her own sake. It was important to know Roman coins and handling money in general.

“Four quadruplets are same one asses,” said Nymphias with a nod of her head a third time. But then her mind wandered elsewhere and blurted out: “Are you in love with my sister? Do you have woman you love?” Was it improper to ask such things? But love was such a fun topic to her, not coins and surely they were finished talking about coins?

@Sharpie

The world glowering escaped Nymphias’ understanding but the rest of the woman’s words made some sense to the girl. Raise one’s voice, speak up, stand straight, stop looking so hurt all the time, Romans really did think they knew everything about life. Her domina, as well as the rest of adult Rome, knew next to nothing about life at large, being cushioned by riches and touching shoulders with polite society. And still Nymphias listened because no matter how old she felt, she was really just a child still and looked at everyone else older than her to tell her what to do and how to think. Nymphias let out a sigh, perhaps it was her who knew next to nothing.

“I don’t have tears to wipe off,” explained Nymphias, her hands gestured at her eyes which were completely dry, no matter who sullen she looked otherwise. She cried going to bed, waking up, and looked a little lost when out of the domus, simply because she was a young girl trying to make sense of everything and survive.

“You say you want bounce ideas with me,” said Nymphias. She hoped she would be able to prove her worth. The faster she did that, perhaps the faster the family would free her. “I am very good with ideas. I have a lot of… image in my head.”

 @Joaquin

Any day could be her last and it could very well have been the last day walking in the markets, smelling baked goods being sold and seeing all the things Rome had to offer. She didn’t have the time to enjoy the world around her, as captivating as it might have been. She had a job to do and had to do it well.

Her coin purse clinked as she walked, safely tucked where no one could reach it, and a basket hung against her bent arm, not yet full. Her eyes followed all the items and things laid out at stalls. One shopkeeper was busy talking to another man, both engrossed in a conversation deeper than Aculia’s insecurity.

Colourful, well-made dresses and jewellery were laid out for all to see. Aculia’s hands gently caressed one of the dresses. She’d never truly dressed in anything pretty before, having lived on a farm and been a huntress, and then later a homeless woman in putrid rags. Clothing had been about practicality, not beauty. While the man was distracted, Aculia contemplating shoving the dress into her basket and briskly walking away. But it was much too large, instead her eyes settled on a shimmering necklace, which she quickly picked up and shoved somewhere that no one would see it. She had money but it was for another purpose.

She turned her body to continue, expression blank, and immediately, her eyes linked with someone else’s. She stood there stunned. Slowly, she took the necklace out of its hiding space and put it back. She opened her mouth and then closed it. Shit, she thought.

“I put it back,” she said calmly. This would reflect poorly on her master and in turn, make him angry with her. “Just don’t tell him about it.” By him, she meant her master. She feared him more than anything else.

Note: What Aculia is wearing

Aculia hopped into gear, walking swiftly like a startled rodent and placed the plate down in front of her master before hiding her hands behind her back. Standing tall, she said nothing as she hid the cut on her thumb in case he thought her incompetent or unable to do a job. She liked to think of herself as more than capable, not weak and powerless as others might have thought she was as a voiceless slave, but being underneath her master’s roof made her second guess her abilities and her worth as a person, no differently than being abandoned more than once had done the same.

She was taken aback when he asked if she’d eaten or drank but did not show her surprise, instead her features were neutral. She’d expected the worst. Yelling, a brutal beating or death but instead she read his words as concern for her well-being. When she was first his slave, she had been terrified for her life but as he did not kill her, keeping her alive and well-sheltered, she believed him somehow generous. She was disgusted, at first, at her own feelings because how could anyone with any bit of self-dignity feel warmly towards someone like Marcus Barbatius.

“No, domine,” she said honestly, voice lifeless and avoiding eye contact. “I wanted to be able to do whatever you asked of me without interruption.” She placed her basic needs aside in case she had to attend to his. What would have happened if she was in the middle of a meal and he needed her? “I won’t pass out, domine. I will eat later tonight when all your needs are met.” She’d been hungry and without food before when living without shelter, this paled in comparison. To her, she now lived in a palace with regular feasts. “Would you like some wine?”

@Atrice

The girl looked to Titus with pleading eyes but Titus felt nothing. To him, she was just a commodity. Not even worthy of breathing the same air as him or calling herself human. His initial reaction, which was the very one that Vibia got, was to laugh. And so, he laughed. It was not warm or hearty but instead a quick, demeaning laugh.

“Entertain me?” said Titus, he sounded almost as if he disbelieved her. “How do you suppose that you would entertain me in a way that countless other women have not already?” His brows rose as if to emphasise his point. To him, most women were the same, each not any different from the other, only some were more obnoxious than others. And uglier too. Men were of a different breed entirely unless a slave or freedman, then he was as good as a woman. Still, she’d likely seen half of Rome’s richer men unclothed, if not more, but Titus wasn’t a man who kicked up a fuss if a woman wasn’t a virgin.

“Very well, let’s see how entertaining you can be then,” he said, no real emotion to his voice and waving his hand at the slave girl, who then pushed herself up and rushed for the door. Her body rocked from side to side like she was at sea, her feet couldn’t hold her body with all the fear she felt pumping through her veins. The door slammed shut and Titus returned to his seat casually, folding one leg over the other. He sized up Vibia’s body, looking her up and down.

“And you will keep the wig on,” he said, or rather demanded. “So, entertain me.” He sat there, practically waiting.  

@Sara

Titus nodded, non-judgemental. The more Marcus spoke, the more Titus found that he agreed with the man. Titus turned to look up at the building, it was humble but a home nonetheless. Titus’ own home was lavish but simply because he liked to live in luxury, though he ironically kept his money all for himself. Titus stepped into the man’s home after Marcus did and he looked around the place, not necessarily inspecting it or judging but out of habit, studying his surroundings.

A man’s home said a lot about him. The house revealed nothing about Marcus’ nature, however, making the man only more of a mystery to him. The slave present was quiet and obedient. He eyed the male slave at the doorway, admiring the man’s physique. Regardless of whether or not the slave was within earshot, Titus spoke up, returning to their previous conversation.

“You ought to try playing with their minds a little,” said Titus, who, unlike Marcus, much preferred playing with a man’s mind, the way a lion played with its food before devouring it. “Violence is like the grand meal and playing with their brittle minds like the appetizers beforehand. One is the act, the other its foreplay. Though violence has its perks, I’m sure, you ought to come to my place for dinner and I’ll show you just how I break a man’s mind from the inside.”

It wasn’t just slaves he did it to but his sister as well, who he was cruel to one moment and then kind the next, a cycle that kept her loyal and locked to him entirely.

“I was thinking of trimming my hair as well,” said Titus suddenly, rubbing his chin and feeling the prickles of hair against his fingers.

@Atrice

He had a way of making her feel desirable without even offering him her body. He didn’t seem to mind that she was not yet ready for such an endeavour with him and with the way he brushed her hair, she blushed, more than she had ever blushed before. Her stomach twisted in knots and she began to relax again. She lowered her head shyly, absolutely captivated and eating every single world he said.

It wasn’t that she did not want to go further when Helios, more that she wasn’t ready. She needed womanly wisdom, the advice of an older and much more experienced woman. Someone who would tell her what to do and what to say when she did get to that point. She didn’t want to disappoint.

“I like the kissing and I like being with you,” she admitted. She could awkwardly admit it ten times over and feel the exact same way every time. “But when we… It will be very special. I want to cherish you too.” She then wrapped her arms around his head, hugging him closely. In her mind, they were destined to be together forever. “Thank you, Helios. You are most thoughtful man in Rome.” Erea, or now Charis, would love him, Nymphias thought.

@Atrice

Nymphias worried for the boy. What if the charioteer was mean to him? Her domine never was cruel, nor was his wife but they were stern and had many rules that made very little sense to Nymphias. If she ever had the ability to write in Latin, or at all, she’d have made a very long list of their rules and read each and every one of them back, just to show them how stupid they sounded.

But then she noticed Azarion look her up and down before chuckling. Nymphias breathed out of her nose like a horse. Was the charioteer, right? Was Azarion flirting with her? When she wasn’t moping, she liked to delve into her imagination where half the men of Rome were fighting for her affections but she wanted to be ever faithful to the radiant Helios, who she’d just met and barely knew as a result.  

Then he pointed down at his ankles, showing her a tattoo on his calf. She tilted her head, trying to get a good look at it.

“Did you get hurt?” she said, believing that was what he was trying to say. She hadn’t seen him twist his ankle but then again, she’d been flat on her bottom and terrified. “What if you tell the man that you try saving me? And that your ankle hurt trying to saving me. Maybe he will be not more angry but less.”

@Chevi

Holding the leeks, he followed after her and headed towards the kitchen. He remembered when he would return home in Judea, sweat embalmed on his body from his land’s heat and the sweltering kitchen’s heat sticking to his clothes. “Everything” could have meant anything, it was fairly vague but then she went on to elaborate and he nodded his head in what could only be read as genuine interest before she turned the tables on him.

“No,” he said amiably enough. “You could say I did a bit of everything as well.”

He’d been well-off in his “past life”. He’d been many things as a slave, from an object used against his will to an accountant. He admired her work ethic and the skills she’d developed throughout her young life. But he supposed she didn’t want to hear about that, that he had been a slave once, though it was likely obvious with hints here and there if one squinted hard enough. From the scars beneath his close to, perhaps, his name. It wasn’t that he hid the fact that he was a slave, he just never mentioned it.

“My family owned an orchard,” he said matter-of-factly. He turned to look at the young girl, a smile still on his face. “They were scribes too and so I worked under important people. But life has a funny way of shifting our journeys. And so here I am and you are stuck with me.” He nudged her playfully. “At least, until you decide to get rid of me, that is. Earth you are, and to earth you will return. Have you ever heard that before?”

@Liv

@Sharpie I would love one and was hoping they'd meet at some point! Feel free to start one if you wish to/have any ideas . Otherwise, I don't mind starting. 

Aaaand posting a sad gif because I can use some more threads/plots for Bassus and Aculia (esp. the latter)! #shameless. 

TW: Violence!

Trying to teach Germanus a new word was like trying to drill a hole in marble with a fat, blunt thumb. And he spoke so loudly too, which only irritated Aculia and wave him off. He was a lost cause. But a woman could only cook quietly in a small kitchen for so long. She enjoyed any chance she got when out of the house and buying supplies in the markets. Remaining inside only made her feel more alienated from the world, unable to see Rome’s liveliness, and seeing only her master, tending to whatever needs he had, only made her see him most hours of the day and, thus, somehow see the human, not the monster.

Though she thought of escaping at times, it was better than freezing on streets and eating discarded foods from the dirty pathways just to live another day. She justified why she put up with it all. And just like most days, she was “confined” to the kitchen, chopping away at some tomatoes when, in her clouded thoughts, she hadn’t been paying attention and cut her thumb. The blood began to pool and she sucked at it before quickly finishing the small meal she’d prepared.

Setting the knife down and taking the plate, her thumb stinging  all the while, she became nauseous as she softly tip-toed throughout the home to where her master was. He had worked a long day and was likely hungry, she hadn’t eaten yet. She wanted to make herself available. She had been in his service for a year, while she was subservient, which had never been in her nature before, she still found herself testing boundaries. If he became angry that she dared think of him before herself, at least, she knew.  

She didn’t say a word, she just lingered by the door and waited until he noticed her hovering with a vacant look on her face, holding some food for him to eat. A peace offering that said she was more useful to him alive.

@Atrice

If she was shaking, it was barely visible as she stood rigid and tall. Her eyes were staring forwards, practically past the two male customers and her master. She held onto the jug of mug tightly, so tight that her knuckles were white and the muscles of her hands were growing tired. She did not dare look anywhere specific or say anything. Any little cough, sniffle or movement would annoy her master. Annoying her master meant the possibility of death. The men in the room had no idea what those hands were capable of, what she’d seen him do. As the the blade rested against one of the men’s neck, both men were oblivious as to what those hands had seen.  

She was zoning in and out, her attention was mystified and the world hazy. The mention of dogs made her snap into the real world, everything suddenly becoming material. She’d once dealt with dogs when hunting and had seen deer die by her arrows but seeing people die was different. The idea did come into her head of trying to get a quick word with one of the men for help but that was out of the question as intervention could go awry and be of more danger to her.

And so there she stood near to the door, glazed eyes staring unnervingly with a lost look in them. So quiet, so still, she was practically invisible.

@Liv @Sara @Atrice  (cameo as per requested by Atrice!)

Nymphias squinted, looking past the crowd to see an older man communicating with another man. Well, Nymphias had “time” before she was to head back but she didn’t want to, simply because she’d made a grave mistake again. If only she paid attention to her surroundings more and was less gullible, she thought. She tried to imagine herself like her domina, Valeria Flacca, sitting reclined and being all smart… but then Nymphias’ nose wrinkled, she’d be stealing people’s hairs and making them look like bald, naked baby rats.

Perhaps because she was buying her own time, before Betua tore off her ears, or evading the walk of shame back to her masters’ home, she chose to have the other girl serve as a good distraction from her own melodrama.

“Do your master ever try to take your hair from you?” said Nymphias curiously. It had be a common experience, it couldn’t be her domina talking about it as she eyed Nymphias’ hair like a hungry beast.

@Jenn

Rufus squatting down made him look like on of the frogs Nymphias tried catching when she was a lot younger. Being as young as she was, she tried not to laugh at the thought. She told herself to be serious and to pay attention. The faster she learned, the better it would be for her in the long run. She squatted down next to Rufus, enjoying the temporary shade that the wall provided. She opened up her purse slowly and showed him what was in there.

“What do I know already?” she said. “Nothing.” She had to be honest. If she wasn’t, she would never learn. She recognised the coins, some of the names but placing the names and how they looked together was not a simple task for her. Money bored her. She much preferred sewing and making things, that required a certain amount of attention and discipline but also creativity, which was more her strong suit.

“This one is…asses?” she said pointing to one of the coins, she’d heard him say it earlier. “It sound like funny word.”

@Sharpie

Updated my plotter to include my newest, would love some threads and plots for her  (Stuff for Bassus is welcomed too).

Come and get some love! 

Titus had had lunchwith a man who claimed to have a “business opportunity” for Titus, only to have then wasted his time. The entire time Titus had spent with one leg folded over the other, an elbow on the arm of the chair while his fingertips stroke the stubble growing on his chin. The man went on and on about his sexual conquers, his mother’s decaying teeth because apparently, just apparently, he kept her skull somewhere in his house. Titus sighed and his attention turned to the young man behind him, eyes staring towards the floor as he held a jug of wine. But before the man could continue on his long-winded tall tales, Titus rose a hand and came up with an excuse as to why he was leaving.

He’d made a bad judgement. But he was desperate for making a name of himself and filling his coffers with more coins. Leaving the man’s home, two slaves followed after him as if he was someone very important. But it he soon grew bored of their company, even annoyed and waved them off. He needed time to think, refresh his mind. And so, he wandered the streets. Fate had a very different plan for the man the moment he caught a nice palla and dark hair. From the manner of the woman, she seemed lost, perhaps nervous and thus simple to take advantage of. It was hard to tell her station from where he was but he soon followed slowly, deliberately slow at first so that she would not notice him.

But it wasn’t long until he caught up. When she turned to him, he could note, a lot more easily, her thick, silky dark hair. It was the first thing he noticed.

“In a hurry, I see,” he said, his lips upturning into a delicate smile. “You look to be in obvious distress and like you’re not meant to be here.” A predator would smell such a thing from a mile away. They craved after it. “With your breasts heaving as they are, you’ve alerted half of Rome that you’re in a vulnerable state of mind. I’d be a little more careful if I were you, especially dressed as you are. You should do yourself a favour and remove that palla.”

@Liv

Aculia.

20 | Spring 55 | Cook | Slave | Bisexual | Wanted | Elizabeth Olsen

Personality.

Aculia is of the more serious-minded variety, not really one for jokes or playfulness. But that isn’t to say she is beyond jokes or fooling around altogether, simply that she won’t usually seek it out. She tries not to show her emotions or thoughts to others, it’s uncertain as to whether this is for self-preservation or shame. Either way, she doesn’t like looking weak and more often than not refuses help from others, preferring to take matters into her own hands. To have some semblance of control. On the outside, she is calm, collected, timid, and obedient. When one gets to know her, she’s insecure and emotionally vulnerable but surprisingly insightful and different than she might otherwise appear. Beyond the horrors of her life, she has an interest in theatre, interesting conversations, and has a preference for athletics, such as hunting.

She’s slow to open up but willing to make friends with others. In her master’s domus, she’s silent, barely says a word unless told to or, when in the presence of a fellow slave, is certain that her master is not able to hear them talk. When she’s not around her master, her fear shows itself as “nonchalance”. It’s not that her life doesn’t bother her, it does, it just comes out in her not wanting to show her pain to others. A lot of her feelings are repressed. When around her master, her fear might come out more, though she will hide it when clients are present. When there are troubles in the domus, if she can, Aculia is one of the first to fix the problem. Some things are outside her control, which she doesn’t like because she is unconfident in herself.

Her predicament has left her distrusting of others, suffering from nightmares, confusion among other things. Strangely enough, she has developed positive feelings for her master. Not romantic. It’s a defence mechanism. It is perhaps this reason why she’s so complacent, submissive and takes on her inferior role well, justifying her own inability for running away sooner. Her master, Marcus Barbatus, takes her to his bed but she convinces herself that this is the best she deserves, owing to her insecurities. At least she’s useful to someone.

She constantly questions herself, her obedience, and her willingness to keep silent about her master’s treatment. Somehow she feels just as responsible for their deaths, saying and doing nothing while people die. Deep down, she doesn’t know if she can keep living the way she has been or to continue being her master’s lap dog, all to save her own skin because he scares her that much.

Appearance

Looking at her, right off the bat, she will noticeably have a “thousand-yard stare” or an emotionless face, one that withholds what she’s thinking or feeling. Standing at five foot five, she has long, cascading golden-brown hair, big green eyes, a rounded head, and distinct cheeks and thin lips. Slim and well-toned, evident of someone who is healthy, she tends to wear natural colours or reds, which compliment her hair and eyes, and her clothes cover her body entirely, particularly scars that have been inflicted on her from slavery. Her movements are mouse-like, small, delicate and nervous.

Family

Father: Cudius, born 34CE (Biological father), Damos, born 30CE (adoptive)

Mother: Abruna, born 36CE (Biological mother), Peccia, born 35CE (adoptive)

Siblings: Talos, born 50CE, Tasco, born 48CE (adoptive brothers)

Spouse: N/A

Children: N/A

Extended family: N/A

Other: Her Master, Marcus Barbatus and fellow slaves

History

Much of Aculia’s earlier life before slavery is a blur to her, she remembers bits and pieces but never the whole thing. The stress of her current life has caused her memory and thoughts to become clouded. Aculia was born and raised in Gaul for much of her early life and it was fairly unremarkable. Her father was a renowned warrior and her mother had only one child as far as she knows. During her very early years of life as a toddler, her parents did not dote on her. However, her parents later abandoned her when she was only five years old, leaving her then raised by others within her tribe. Aculia never really knew her parents but had vague memories of the pair, though she is uncertain of whether any of this is because of what she had been told by others or how much of it is actually what she has remembered.

Being taken in by another family did not give her an identity crisis in childhood as she was close to her adoptive brothers and seemed to find love at last, though her abandonmet by her biological parents may have fed into her future insecurities. Her new father was a highly appreciated man and well-liked by his tribe, being a farmer and hunter who provided much of the food. As she grew, she learned to hunt, farm, care for animals, and cook. Cooking was a skill that she would later use in her master’s household. But Aculia’s true skills lay in hunting and farming, being wild and in the natural world.

Tasco, her elder adoptive brother, looked after her as if she was his blood sister and Talos and Aculia were inseparable, two peas in a pod. In the past and as a child, she was cheeky, mischievous, a bit of a spider monkey who climbed trees, and was prone to getting into trouble, a little impish but since slavery, her personality has gone an entire detour, which is to be expected. She was happy to have a home and a family that loved her. This remained until the time she was twelve years old in 67. Her adoptive parents died that year by illness, leaving behind the two boys and their adopted girl, Aculia. The farm was later taken by competitors in 68 who took advantage of their youth. They claimed they were going to help out, only to take control of the money earned and the farm.

Tasco left to make more money elsewhere and apparently send home, only to never return home. This ultimately left Aculia and Talos alone in their teenaged years. With no skills and practically still children, the two took to begging and eating leftover scraps thrown to the floor to survive. Her brother Talos started gambling but was losing more money than he was gaining. Depressed and full of hate for himself, Talos began drinking heavily and focusing on what pleasures he could get than what was practical. In a moment of vulnerability and not exactly in the right state of mind, Talos sold his adoptive sister and friend, Aculia, for money by 73CE. Aculia was heartbroken, destroyed and was then shipped off to Rome.

Much of the journey, she does not remember but the fact she was abandoned hit her hard and only brought back feelings she had felt as a young five and six year old. The treatment she had endured as a new slave was less than ideal. She became a slave to many Roman senatores and wealthy figures throughout 73CE, each abandoning her for a number of reasons. Some lost money, others had wives that didn’t like Aculia, or Aculia didn’t fit in for whatever reason. It did hurt her self-esteem when she was sold yet again. After all, she’d been abandoned by family twice (three times, if one counted her eldest brother Tasco).

In early 74, Aculia was bought cheap by Marcus Barbatus and she’d expected the outcome to be the same as her past masters, tossed and thrown to the next buyer. Upon first joining the household, she was introduced to how her life would be from Manus. Aculia hadn’t believed it at first but erred on the side of caution, she soon found out. Months passed and she didn’t seem to be abandoned and so Aculia grew “comfortable” in her surroundings. But her master’s darker side seemed to show and Aculia became more muted than she was in the past. But her master’s home gave her shelter and food and in that way, he was benevolent. It was better than being on the streets, begging, or being abandoned many times over.

For the past year, she has worked for the barber as a cook in his household and eventually found herself being called to his bed, which she does not like but doesn’t show. She has also seen the death of, at least, two slaves, which has rendered her even more silent than she’d already been. As of recent, she is unsure of how much of her current life she’s willing to put up with but has since made no move to try and escape. But the future is full of possibilities.

Beauty | GMIT+ | #4454

@Gothic 

“Good looks” wasn’t what Bassus saw when he saw his own reflection but took Lucius’ word for it. He reasoned any woman coming to him for his reputation or looks wasn’t a woman coming to him for his character, which was something Bassus valued above everything else. And naturally, as a result, he felt protective of his friend and cautious as to what type of woman the man would attract. Bassus himself didn’t care much for looks, a woman’s weight or her station, so long as she was kind and contributed decently to conversation. He expected a similar woman for his friend. A companion, not a trophy or someone only interested in the man for his money. Whoever he married, he wanted to get to know her but it would not become a marriage of three.

Lucius surprised him with an amusing quip and Bassus let out a laugh as the man brought the attention back to the horse. Of course, it was hard to concentrate and Bassus couldn’t help but say one thing about it. “Great, shining teeth,” he said. “All the better to kiss your new wife.”

Another voice came into the picture, snapping Bassus out of his trance. He turned his attention to the man and at the mention of “Oriental”, his ears shook curiously. While he trusted this shopkeeper in particular, owing to why he’d suggested the man in the first place, Bassus wanted to see for himself if the horse was everything the shopkeeper said it was.

“That you ought to know about? No,” he said, picking up the pace and trying to keep up with the third man in their midst. “Just stable boys flirting with slave girls without inviting me and kitchen girls looking at me like I just defecated into their hard work. You know, the usual. And yourself? What has the noble Lucius Furius Pontius Thracius Minor been up to? Tell me every juicy detail, leave nothing out.”

@The Young Pope

“Good,” said Titus, gently releasing his sister. He had never been as bad as Gnaeus, or so he told himself. He was not entirely deluded to think he was a good man, though he had saved Gaia long ago from being a target of their brother’s antics and had small moments of kindness, but he knew he wasn’t the worst she or his slaves would come across. At the Elysium, he enabled much cruelty to take place within the walls but the slaves generally meant nothing to him. A slave could be replaced by another. Unless, of course, it proved that it could be of use to him.

“Why don’t you stand up?” he said, gently resting his hand on her elbow to pull her up. It was a complete turnaround from how he had been just treating her. Her hair was all rumpled and all over the place from his outburst so he began to brush her hair from her face, strands that were fly away, he smoothed down. “It’s late, I think you have had quite enough time outside in the world, wandering and trying to be useful to a society that hardly even notices you. It’s exhausting and who knows who you might come across. I do worry when you walk alone in the streets, especially when alone at night. A man might just take advantage of you.”

He patted her shoulder before leading her away from where they had been. “But you’re tired,” he said. “Let’s get you to bed. You don’t want your son seeing you like this. Hysterical and over-stepping. What would he think? What are you teaching him?”

@Joaquin

She had been on the ground, seeing the side of the horse and Azarion on top of it, until the charioteer from earlier lifted her up, speaking to her. Her reaction to him was as emotional as a tree stump, from falling and the man holding her, she became a little shy and awkward. What came next sounded almost like scolding. Flirting? Where’d he get that idea? Nymphias’ cheeks turned red and her brows creased. She couldn’t flirt to save her life. Embarrassed, she followed Azarion quietly. The man’s arms were folded and he watched them, eyes boring into the back of their heads. If anything made her feel like a child, it was this.

“He seem really angry,” said Nymphias awkwardly when they were a considerable distance away, her motions stiff from her nerves getting the better of her. The charioteer didn’t seem the angriest but it still made Nymphias nervous for Azarion nonetheless. What would the charioteer say? What would he do to him? “He won’t… hit you? If he does, I will hit him.” She couldn’t even hurt a fly and her going against anyone of a higher station than herself was a laugh. She’d faint within two seconds. “But you were very brave person for going on top horse. You are braver than Romans.”

@Chevi

Titus suddenly disappeared, leaving her with the other two. She hadn’t told him to leave the room but he did so anyways. She made a tutting noise to those who were left behind with her, folding her arms and tapping her fingers against her arm as she waited for him to return. She hummed a tune, slow and deliberately unpleasant as to make the others know she wasn’t at all happy. She was about to say something about Porcus dirtying the room with his piss but then Titus returned and she’d forgotten all about her anger, instead her attention was on the melon.

She hoped the melon being placed on his head would cause Porcus’ neck to strain and crush his skull. Sadly, it did no such thing. She watched silently, almost bored. That, of course, changed once Titus lifted the knife and threw the knife. The moment Porcus let out a wail, Nymphias cackled loudly and hysterically, holding her stomach as her cheeks turned red with mirth.

Nymphias wiped her eyes. “Again,” she said like a child demanding for another round of tickles. “But this time Valeria joins you. You both should compete against one another to hit that melon. Come on, Valeria, you’ve not said a word for a while, you’re simply standing there stunned and quiet. It’s boring. Why? Join in on the fun or you’ll take Porcus’ place.”

Porcus was covered in not only his own urine but his blood also, his hair greasy and his face riddled with tears. He was blubbering, muttering under his breath a hopeful “please, domina.” But Nymphias didn’t listen. After all, Porcus looked like a pathetic fool and was sodden with his own filth, it disgusted her. She could smell it all the way from where she was sitting, having pushed herself up from the reclining chair. Porcus, as if he had enough of this shit, stumbled from where he was and tossed the melon onto the ground where it splattered. Nymphias wished that had been the man’s skull instead. She gasped as if his actions were shocking.

@Liv @Joaquin