Beauty

If you were to ask him, an impossible to tame dog or horse was not worth the effort. He tended to disregard anything that no longer interested him. Titus would either sell the animal or put it out of its misery. And yet, could a dog or horse not be trained and tamed? Surely, they could. As could a human with a certain amount of work if one put their back into it. After all, most slaves were tamed, even the most impossible. In Titus’ experience, mind games broke a person, especially their spirit, even the most resilient. But Marcus was right, difficult slaves were not worth keeping and had to be disposed of, if not changed. Titus returned the smile.

“Indeed,” replied Titus. It was true, slaves did have their uses and Titus was a man who always tried to gain something out of life, his slaves mere pawns in the process. “Have you ever tried taming the shrew? Rather than disposing of them, playing with their minds?” It was a gamble saying what he did so openly to another man but he’d already seen a glimpse of the man earlier and he simply wasn’t a man to trifle with, especially if a slave, which only made him more interesting in Titus’ eyes. “It brings another form of entertainment that one mightn’t see in the gladiatorial pits.” He chuckled lightly. “Sometimes pain doesn’t break a man, his own mind does.”

@Atrice

His lips nipped at her jaw, moving downwards to her throat and she could feel his breath tickle her skin. She let him kiss her and it was a new sensation for her. Her stomach fluttered and she grew warm, not just at her cheeks but all over, as his lips touched her. His hand slid up her thighs from under her clothes and at this point, she turned a little nervous and almost stone-like. She didn’t think herself ready for anything too explicit, merely because she hadn’t done anything like it before, and for whatever reason, seemed to strain and worry.

Feeling his lips against hers again, it took the air out of her and she thought her heart was about to drop with how fast it was beating. It was all very daunting, strange, exciting, and difficult all at once. And while she was convinced that Helios loved her and she loved him, it was all an act of love, she had to push Helios’ hand from her thigh and break the kiss. She took in deep breaths and pondered on what to say exactly about what she just did. She didn’t want him angry with her for ruining what was otherwise a lovely moment. The hand caught her off guard, that was all.

“Sorry,” said Nymphias quietly, voice trailing slightly.

@Atrice

When she asked him if he “eavesdropped a lot”, he answered her with a quick “you bet”. He didn’t go out of his way to gather information on other people but he heard and saw enough, perhaps from being in close proximity to others but also simply because he was a fairly observant person. He liked to be aware of his surroundings and know the people he was around.

He reached forward to take the leeks but his movements were deliberately slow in case she changed her mind. He didn’t have to offer help but he did so anyways in what he believed was a peace-offering or an offer of friendship. There were some who did kind deeds to get something in return, sometimes what they wanted was not coming from a pure place. But in Bassus’ case, he tended to want nothing. While he had surely wanted many things in the past, he couldn’t think of anything that he wanted in the physical world as of recent. He was content with just breathing and so he let out a laugh.

“I’m not helping you to get something out of you,” he said honestly, quite amused. “But that makes two of us because I have nothing of value that you or anyone could possibly want, which makes us a very pathetic pair.” He offered her a playful wink. He had very few items from the past few years, including his earlier life in Judea, and now in Rome, he tended to spend very little of the money he made. Not only because he was saving money but because he didn’t have people to spend money on anymore.

“Were you always working in kitchens, Safinia?” he said curiously. She seemed serious, very serious, in which case, she probably took her job very seriously and so work seemed like a good thing to bring up.

@Liv

Nymphias eyed Clio’s eyes curiously with a concentrated expression, her eyes practically boring into the other woman’s face. Nymphias began to wonder how she would look like with such a thing on her eyes and since they were in a little market area, Nymphias then wondered if there would be some of what Clio had on her eyes present there. She looked around, bright-eyed and thrilled, mostly forgetting about the strange man who had before been following her. It would certainly cover the redness around her eyes that came about every time she cried. And she cried a lot.

“Oh, no,” she said absent-mindedly as she searched around for something, anything, that looked like what was on Clio’s eyes. “Was this person a man or woman? Was their name Erea?” Nymphias still had yet to find her family at this point but hoped both her brother and sister were well. She was worried they were enslaved too or worse, dead. The not knowing was what ate at her, though she doubted she would survive if either one or both of them were dead. She was barely surviving as is.

She noticed a pile of what looked like black powder to her and pointed to it. “Is that what you have on your eyes?” said Nymphias. “I want some too, I want to look like you with your eyes.”

@Liv

Comedy? Bassus cracked a grin. He’d never found himself particularly amusing, the only people who’d ever genuinely laughed at his jokes were his young son and wife but that had been years ago. The conversation moved forwards. From old times to being unmarried, it was one of the reasons why Bassus liked Lucius’ company, one could never get bored by conversing with him.

“Of course, I’m still unmarried, take a good look at me,” he said, his tone was warm but Bassus’ expectations were low despite what women sought his attention at races. He wasn’t expecting another wife, let alone a lover. But if it happened, it happened. As a freedman, perhaps he had the luxury of having to not search high and low for it. But they were also less likely to be educated and thus, less likely to have the same interests as him.

“Anyways, if your sister is so concerned, she can do a little talking with the women of Rome or have her husband introduce you to some fathers and brothers eager to get their daughters and sisters wed to a man of your station.”

With the shopkeeper greeting them, Bassus gave the man a nod and listened before turning to look at his horses. Bassus set a hand on his chin, eyeing the horses as if inspecting.

“No questions,” said Bassus, concentrated on the horses. Just by looking at them, he could tell which ones were healthy and already trained based on their behaviour, there was always that little impulse that gave it away. From the latter, it gave him an idea where the horses may have been acquired but it also begged the questioned why such a horse had been given up in the first place. But the health of a horse mattered as well as their age. “Well, Lucius, see any of interest? Or is this too close to home, like looking for a wife?” He chuckled deviously, then pointing forwards. “This one here has good teeth. You don’t want a horse with bad hygiene but it’s not your breed.”

@The Young Pope

She accused him of being a psychopath, Titus merely let out a laugh. A hand to her mouth, he could visualise shock on the young woman’s features. Vibia’s sudden change made his lips turn upwards into a wicked smile. The girl’s muffled sobs could be heard in the background, almost like an unsettling tune.

The slave moved upright and Titus kicked the slave’s back, causing her to fall downwards, catching herself with her hands. Her eyes were glued to the hard floor, looking anywhere but at Titus. Titus’ attention was instead on Vibia, studying her as if he she was a specimen to be picked at and tested. He stepped forwards, the end of his feet crushing the fingers of the slave who then let out a wail, which sounded harsh and peculiar, given that she couldn’t open her mouth.

“I don’t want you to say anything at all,” he said, his words came out calm. “But I suppose tonight would be rather dull if you kept silent the whole time. Like this one. I contemplated having more sewn shut.” He nodded to the slave on the floor, then moving his foot from her fingers. He casually moved towards his wine, swirling it before gulping some of it down. “But I’m not going to hurt you, Vesuvia. If that’s what you think. You’re a whore, I’m sure you’ve dealt with all kinds of people. Surely, you can deal with a so-called psychopath like me. I don’t want to hear anything, I just want your company. So, entertain me. Do whatever you want to the slave girl. Beat her, touch her. I’ll be watching.”

@Sara

Nymphias woke up, feeling rather groggy, her stomach queasy and bubbling, and paler than usual. She felt sore all over, tired even but worked relentlessly regardless because there wasn’t much else a slave could do. But Betua, having caught Nymphias on what was meant to her break, noticed the girl seemed off and told her to get a some “fresh air”. A slave couldn’t be sick in their master’s household, it didn’t help the flow of things. So now a slave wasn’t allowed to be feel unwell too. The stupid rules made by Romans were ever-growing.

Betua wasn’t wrong in sending Nymphias off into the streets surrounding her master’s home. She slowly began to feel a little better. She wandered the streets, simply admiring the Roman structures, the well-paved roads, so unlike what she was met with in Britannia, for the most part. Feeling more like herself, she sat down somewhere on a bench so she could listen to some birds tweeting and whistling.

Everything was calm until she decided she’d listened enough. She rose but then felt something. It couldn’t possible be, she thought. Oh, but it was. One of those surprising ones too. Nymphias wasn’t great at keeping track of things, especially when all days moulded into one after a while. Practically attached to the bench with her clothing likely stained at the back, she remained where she was. It wasn’t all that bad, it happened to most women. But then caught the familiar face of her master’s friend.

“Hello, domine,” she said innocently in greeting but made no move to stand up. “Very pleasant day today. Are you hoping to see my domine? You want me to give a message?” Hopefully he was distracted by that.

@Sara

 Hello there.

I would love to plot with you! I'll look through my characters and yours (if you're not sick of me yet lol), maybe throw some ideas at you through DM?

@Sara

Bassus wasn’t interested in sex for the sake of pure pleasure with someone he didn’t know but he wasn’t a romantic either. He simply had no interest in anything fleeting with some face he would forget, someone he couldn’t talk to as either a friend or something more. Outside of his own complicated views on forced prostitution, he’d accompanied his friends to the Elysium due to its cheap prices but found himself keeping his mouth shut about how he felt a little unsettled within its walls. The whores did not look happy, even beneath those false smiles. He was one man who lingered quietly behind while his friends hungrily picked through the women or men that they found of their liking.

He was not a prude but it was ridiculous how quickly men’s wits disappeared in the face of sex. To Jews, sex was a sacred tool but was an act viewed in various interesting ways. Romans would be surprised if they looked past judgements. But there he was, bored out of his mind, he preferred mental stimulation to mindless “feel good” interactions. He had been an awkward fifth or sixth wheel until a familiar face approached him. Gaia, a woman he’d met a while back from another such event where he, once before, was a fifth or sixth wheel. She had the intelligence to bring him into a back room with fruits and wine for entertainment while his friends were being entertained in other ways.

He folded one leg over the other, sitting comfortably in the chair while he propped one fruit into his mouth and then another.

“You ought to run this place,” he said, beginning conversation. “Where is the big man himself?” Bassus playfully looked around him before settling his attention on the woman. She didn’t look like she belonged in such a place, no more than he did. “Thank you for nursing me while the adults are talking. And, tell me, how is being a midwife going for you?”

@Joaquin

Bassus had been in the middle of conversation with his fans, arms folded, laughing, seemingly soaking in all the praise and trying to ignore the young woman throwing herself at him by annoyingly interjecting the discussions he had with some of the others, even if he politely regarded her every now and again. And he got annoyed when some mentioned Menelaus. At the mention of Menelaus, some began to scream harder, slightly more than they had when Bassus made his entrance but not before long the people before him gasped, pointed and began to make more noise.

Bassus turned to see the mare Azarion had been holding becoming jumpy and the young girl with him fall down flat on her bottom. Bassus extended a hand to the fans as if saying “wait, I’ll be back” before rushing on over to see if he could lessen whatever damage there was. He placed a hand on the girl’s back and held her hand to pull her up gently. “On your feet, little lady,” he said gently. “Are you all right?” She nodded, lips white and shut, clearly nervous. “Not hurt anywhere?” She shook her head, staring up at him dumbly. Beneath his touch, he could feel her shaking. He let go of the girl.

He turned to Azarion, evidently impressed with the boy’s skill and quick thinking even if his words showed something different. “This is what happens when you flirt on the job, Azarion,” he said sternly. A swift scolding, he wouldn’t say more than that. He wasn’t the boy’s father. “You should put her back in the stables, I think she’s had enough for today, wouldn’t you say? We’ll talk later about this. You can join him.” He nodded to the girl, her falling down was punishment enough for walking where she wasn’t supposed to.

@Chevi + myself 

The good thing about having been the son of a wealthy scribe and orchard owner was that Bassus had the opportunity to have been able to travel throughout some of the world near to Judea, following others of interest or in need of his work, such as government officials, which ultimately had lead him to Lucius. He’d remembered the boy, curious and wide-eyed, as youths are, but now wizened with age.

“Just you and me? No one to bother us?” said Bassus, raising his brows but not before his lips upturned. “How very romantic. I hope I don’t fall in love with you.” A jest, clearly. Bassus, at times, could be quite the tease. Sometimes it was misread as interest but he had a way of sounding coy when he was just seemingly comfortable with himself and his surroundings. But for what it was worth, a visit to the countryside was a splendid idea. Besides, it wasn’t every day you met someone in Rome who wanted to have deep and thoughtful conversations. As much as he enjoyed his work, he missed being around educated, scribes and scholars.

“But I suppose I can make time to go in the summer,” he then said with a shrug. “And we can have one of our thought-provoking discussions.” As a freedman, he had more freedom but as a charioteer, any time away from the chariot meant his body lost its physical memory. But perhaps even a charioteer needed rest as soreness did not help with winning races either. As Lucius, spoke, he listened and as the horse handler approached, having heard the last bits of Lucius’ words. Bassus nodded to the man in greeting before turning to Lucius, setting his hands on his hips.

“Remind me why you never became a poet,” said Bassus. “The breed isn’t going to be the problem. Price aside.” Assuming the shop had what Lucius was looking for. “Horses are like people, each with their own personality. If you want a horse that works with you, you need a connection with it. I think you need an intelligent and well-mannered creature, not hot-headed.” The shop-keeper looked from one man to the other, appearing a little confused.

@The Young Pope

On one hand, Titus wanted to “sell” his sister to the highest bidder, the best option. After all, good connections were everything in Rome. And yet, all the same, he could not part from his sister. Not out of brotherly love, no, rather if she left, she would become her husband’s property and out of his line of power. He did not like that idea, not one bit. The man would need to be someone on the same set of mind as Titus or a fool, easy to manipulate. And then there was Gaia’s bastard to deal with, a boy who was growing into a man. Men were harder to control sometimes.

Already Marcus was making quite the impression. A good impression. Titus raised his chin, eyes looking around him as if in thinking “did he ever do such things?” The answer was yes. He wasn't interested in torture, it didn’t do anything for him. Perhaps it was the power. What was life without power and money?

“I’ve beaten my slaves,” he admitted casually, now the conversation was getting exciting and past all the polite words. Titus never did usually divulge too much of himself to anyone unless there was trust. Well, the two men seemed to see eye-to-eye. “I haven’t cut tongues, no. Not yet anyways.” He flashed Marcus a smile, a curious twinkle in his eyes. “More men need to be like you, Marcus. Strict on their slaves. I see too many wandering the streets like rats and multiplying like insects. You say cutting tongues isn’t enough. What would you say is enough?”

@Atrice

She nodded her head when he said her brother’s name and felt very happy with what he said next. Having someone as well-positioned as Lucius would surely mean she would find her brother. After all, men came to him with water when his fingers were dirtied! She could embrace the man in thanks or take his hands in to hers, shaking them in acknowledgment, but she didn’t, it was too inappropriate for a slave girl to be thanking a senator in such a manner, no matter how much gratitude she felt.

The mentions of “back home” kicked her into reality and she looked visibly shaken. A lot of time had passed. That was one of the terrible consequences of being a slave, even your own time wasn’t yours to keep. Nymphias pushed herself up quickly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, not wanting crumbs of honey cake on her lips. If anyone saw, they would surely ask. While she would have much preferred spending time with the senator, she had places to be and things to do.

“Oh no, I should probably leave,” she said but wondered if that was rude even to say. She felt like she was walking on eggshells with most Romans, especially those she served. “But thank you, domine, for everything.” It was a kind gesture, she thought. “And for help with my brother.” She moved to leave but first turned to face him. “Goodbye.” And with that, she scurried off quickly.  

@The Young Pope

Special and one of a kind, Nymphias gobbled that up. With his hand brushing her cheeks, it only worked to make her heart beat quickly and her lips spread wider into a flattered smile. He said they had a relationship, which then meant they were something more than friends. Nymphias had never been more than friends before with anyone. But she hadn’t lived very long. Hearing she was the only girl he’d brought to this temple solidified what she felt for Helios. It was fast, strong and impassioned but she was quite young and that was to be expected.

As it stood, she would not have it any other way either, simply because it felt good. To her, his words were like honey or music. When his lips came to hers, her eyes closed, accepting it without complaint. She did tense a little, a bodily response from the terrors she’d endured, which, try as she might, she couldn’t get rid of. It happened in crowds, around particular spaces and people. Regardless of it, Helios made her comfortable and feel like she was in safe hands. After all, he’d saved her. He’d saved her in more ways too than he knew.

She pulled away from the kiss, slowly and reluctantly. Her hands played with his hair, which was neatly pulled back. “I can’t get enough too,” she confessed, her words were soft, quiet and a little shy. Her eyes looked into his, captivated and stolen. “When you free… will you free me too?” She said, it was half-serious but half-fantasy as well, dreaming of being whisked away. Her eyes fell to his lips, eager for more but hoped they were destined for one another. She knew she would be heartbroken if ever they were separated.

@Atrice

Nymphias wasn’t sure if she wanted the other woman’s advice. For starters, she was not a slave and so couldn’t possibly know anything about how Nymphias felt. But, at the same time, with her elder siblings gone, with no true guidance from the same blood as her, Nymphias sought such things elsewhere. Now, it was with Valeria, her domina, who she believed knew a lot more about things in Rome and life than her. Looking to her mistress, she listened and nodded slowly, her expression still clearly unhappy.

Her eyes, not quite watering but no longer as bright as they’d been moments before, followed the young child to her mot’er's arms. Nymphias’ attention returned to Valeriana’s mother.

“It is not daughter who makes me cry,” said Nymphias honestly, trying to explain that the child was a handful, certainly, at times, but not the reason for her plight. She cried for other reasons. If the older woman were to ask any of the slaves, they’d tell her mistress anyways that she cried all night, especially in the beginning and well before she’d ever been entrusted with the family’s youngest.

“But I don’t want to fall behind,” admitted Nymphias. “How do I not fall behind? How do I be like you, like an older woman?” Her older sister, Erea, seemed like she had everything sorted, even when their life at home had been, quite frankly, falling apart.

@Joaquin

“Because people are people,” he said simply in answer to her first question. Most people liked to cause excitement or trouble where it wasn’t needed or picked and preyed on people they thought were “easy” targets, whether they were or weren’t. Even amongst communities or works such as the White Team, rivalries and butting heads happened. It was unavoidable. Bassus himself usually steered clear of that sort of thing, remaining rather neutral unless he had to intervene. Though, he sometimes felt competitive against the other charioteers. But that was different, you had to be or else risked being one of the charioteers playing catch up.

“And I have eyes and ears, I use them,” said Bassus to her second question. “Do you think I wouldn’t notice a fresh-faced girl? I can spot a pin in a haystack.”

With the way she spoke and behaved, he couldn’t tell if she was afraid and her fear came out differently than others, she was hiding nervousness, or was something else entirely. But she was new. She likely, he assumed, had no one to talk to, let alone be friends with. And no matter who difficult people were, Bassus tried and remained fair.

He then pointed to what she held. “Leeks, delicious,” said, trying to continue conversation as he set the cloth he’d been using to hang snugly on his shoulder. “Why don’t I lend you a hand with that?” A simple, nice gesture of trying to offer friendship.

@Liv

On most days Bassus was busy training and had very little time to read. A good charioteer had to keep himself not only in shape but able to manoeuvre the chariots. However, a good scribe, or rather former scribe, kept his mind energised with words. But even when he had the only chance and time to read, it was hard to turn down an outing with Lucius, who’d been a good friend for many, long years. One of the sole people in Rome who actually knew for who he was, not the image he displayed at the chariot games or hid from others. He’d seen the best and worst of him, just as family did.

The markets were busy and bustling as always, the smell of bread wafted throughout the air, voices were loud and came from all around them. The markets reminded him of those he’d visited in Galilee, the open-air markets with mounds of oranges, spices and thick sweets, only there was less of a welcoming, warm feeling to them. The bright sun bore down on him on that March day as he walked alongside Lucius and came to a shop with horses.

“I can probably get the price lowered. You know me,” said Bassus confidently, looking at his nails. “I can get anything done. It’s like dealing with a pack of beasts, you have to show who’s boss. Show no fear.” A senator was bound to be ripped off, especially a nice one. Shopkeepers always preyed on one’s “weakness”, if it could even be called that. He’d once helped his family with their orchard, he’d seen how businessmen worked.

“So, what type of horse you are after?” he said, folding his arms and waiting for a shopkeeper to approach them. “A big one to represent your Roman virility?”

@The Young Pope

When Lucius told him he was to accompany him to the gladiatorial games and sit with him in the senatorial box, he thought he was crazy. He laughed, tears flowed and his stomach felt like someone had just punched him, only to realise Lucius wasn’t at all joking. For one, Lucius didn’t seem the type to be interested in such games. Secondly, he was a freedman, probably smelt of elderberries, and was simply a charioteer. He wasn’t fancy by any means, regardless of his background before everything where he was rather privileged. But, of course, Lucius probably wanted to introduce him to some important people. Could have been pity or it could have been a genuine gesture to prompt his character or career. What was he to do, sit, smile and look pretty?

If Bassus was nervous, sweating waterfalls from his armpits, or felt like a complete outsider, he certainly didn’t show it. Instead, he appeared confident and proud as usual. He was dressed his best, hair clean and brushed, clothing spotless, fresh and unwrinkled. If he was going to be amongst the best in society, he wanted to look good.

“I still think you’ve lost it,” whispered Bassus jokingly to his friend, offering him a smile.

@The Young Pope + others!

She didn’t say anything which only pushed to further infuriate him. He looked down at her, dark strands of her against her pale skin as she opened her eyes. His hand extended forwards once more, this time, he wasn’t going to slap her cheeks mockingly but he began to stroke her head affectionately, perhaps sending very strange, mixed and uncomfortable messages to her.

“What happened to the woman who spoke so boldly moments before?” said Titus, his voice may have sounded soothing but that was completely beside his true intentions, which was to continue to push her down into her place. Or rather, what he saw as her place. But she seemed spellbound so he roughly took her by the hair and pushed her head. “Are you not going to tell me how to take care of my own slaves, woman?” He pushed her head again, this time a little more tough. His actions were perhaps not as violent as their brother Gnaeus had been but it was harsh in its own way.

@Joaquin

He listened to Marcus open up to him. It was not by much, as the man seemed difficult to crack into, but it was something and that something was interesting. He laughed, not because it was a funny story but because, in a very small way, he could relate. “It wasn’t good” summed up the entire affair regarding Marcus and his family. It certainly summed up Titus’ backstory as well.

“My father’s second woman was a whore after my mother died,” he admitted, rolling his eyes. “You would have thought he could do better. The woman spawned an equally loose creature, my sister. But she has her beauty so that was the one good thing that came out of it. She is quiet and obedient, the way a woman should to be. The perfect wife but now to find the perfect husband.”

As the conversation veered forwards, he saw that he could actually see eye-to-eye with Marcus. That was a relatively rare thing, considering most seemed to treat slaves and freedmen like they were equals. “Have you ever thought of breaking their teeth when they talk? Or cutting out their tongues?” suggested Titus, waving a hand innocently. He phrased it like a joke but he truly meant it.

@Atrice

“Dim, yes. Ugly? No,” said Titus as he moved towards the door. As he did so, he didn’t say anything. One might have assumed he was leaving but he wasn’t. Instead, he called for a slave to come to him but didn’t explain why, nor did he say anything to “Vesuvia”. She would just have to find out. Turning from the door, his attention returned to Vibia. He doubted she was telling the truth, she had to be playing with him. But he wasn’t interested in what he assumed was a crack wise response.

“I killed the real Vesuvia,” he said suddenly, coldly with no emotion. He hadn’t really, he’d only made her life miserable. He could remember sitting at her bedside as she lay dying, sweat rolling from her brow, and she could barely talk. He told her how he’d take care of her daughter while she was gone. But, of course, the real Vesuvia had seen Titus’ true colours by then. But he had orchestrated the death of a business partner and had no regrets.

“But I’m sure that doesn’t faze you,” said Titus. “I get the idea that not much fazes you. I like that.” Being both a whore and once a slave, he figured she had experienced all kinds of things. “But if we are stuck together, as you so kindly reminded me, I’m sure you can try harder with trying to get along with me, hm?”

At that moment, the door creaked open, revealing a small slave, poking their head through the door. Nervous, lips sewn shut. There was no means for the slave to say anything as a result beneath the stitches and swelling around their lips. Before they could step into the room, Titus hit the slave with the back of his hand, sending the slave flying onto the floor with a hard, loud thud.  

“That’s for every time you say something I don’t like.”

@Sara

Tapping her hand was much appreciated, it meant the other woman felt sympathy for and understood her. Nymphias didn’t know if it was paranoia after having been enslaved but everyone appeared so terrifying, their faces looking like it was carved stone. Any bit of kindness made Nymphias inclined to see the other person as a potential friend.

When the woman pointed towards herself, Nymphias merely blinked, trying to discern what the other, older woman meant for a moment, but then assumed she was saying something along the lines that she’d experienced the same. Or perhaps she was saying people took advantage of her voice, thought Nymphias. That was a very cruel thing, if so. People thought because Nymphias couldn’t speak proper Latin, somehow she was stupid too.

“I like what they do over there,” said Nymphias, gesturing towards the crowds. She could hear the laughter and music still. It was hard to be happy after losing coices, a part of her wanted to stall returning to her master’s home but that would only get her into more trouble. “Are you waiting for someone here, is that why you sitting?”

@Jenn

She nodded, she did remember that they had hoped to be alone. At least, that way it would be simpler for them to talk freely and be in one another’s presence. If others were around, crowding about, it would ruin what time they had together. What time felt like so little because soon enough she, and she figured Helios too, would be carried away to work. Nymphias’ eyes were glued to the world around her, absolutely captivated by the sight and allowed Helios to guide her to where there was a wooden bench. He sat down but she remained standing but only for a little while until he spoke some more.

Admiring each other? Surely, they were already doing that. She was certainly admiring him. It was better to see him in person than in the memory of her mind. Her cheeks went red and hot as she sat down on his lap, placing her arm carefully around around his neck to keep herself from falling off to the temple floor.

“You are nicest man in Rome,” said Nymphias and it was true. How many nice men were there in Rome? Not many, most were branded as evil by the girl, merely because they shared the same blood as the people who captured her and ruined her family’s life. Those were not Roman were exempt. “You treat me so well… with respect. First time I meet Roman men… it was horrible. And after, everyone think I’m stupid but you treat me nice.” They hadn’t done anything to her physically but they’d done so mentally, they’d tried and threatened, it’d certainly imprinted fear in her mind. She didn’t admit this out loud so often. Acts of gentleness were always much welcomed and with the first man to kiss her, it meant something to her.

She tilted her head. “Am I first girl you bring to this place?” she said, sounding hopeful. She had to have been, she hoped, and she wanted to hear that she was, just so she could feel special to someone.

@Atrice

She wasn’t watching, she was working. So she was one of those serious types, entirely missing his light, playful jest. He contemplated jokingly telling her to “lighten up” but knew that exact wording would not bode well. For one, it could be taken the wrong way entirely, like he was some overly entitled man. After all, women were told that all the time by overly entitled men who seemed to think them objects of their own satisfaction. And if you asked Bassus, he hated most men. He was aware before but never really thought deeply about it until became a slave. Before then, he’d heard tales from his wife which made his blood sour.

“Dates would be nice actually,” said Bassus pleasantly. She was much too young to be this serious but life had a funny way of making people grow up all too fast. He didn’t know this girl’s story to judge. “I hear they are good for, you know…” His eyes motioned downwards playfully and opened widely, hinting at restroom business. His son had appreciated such jokes, being quite young when he’d been alive.

Perhaps out of friendly habit, he slapped her arm gently and offered a soft smile. “I’m only joking,” said Bassus before whispering quickly: “Not really.” While his expression had previously been warm and welcoming, it changed to become more grave than it had been just to purposely throw her off for the hell of it. “But it’s good you’re asking why. You should always ask why, especially with all the people about. It gets hectic here.” He pointed his finger around. Whatever their intentions, be it food or something else entirely, they would probably think they could fool her because she was young and new. Somehow he doubted it’d work with this one yet it didn’t stop him from feeling protective somehow. “Anyone mess with you, you let me know. I’ll sort them out.”

He wouldn’t resort to violence, that wasn’t his way. Just a simple, stern, and tremendously awkward talk from one man to another.

@Liv

With the horse frightened and alarmed, it caught Nymphias off guard, startling her in the process. Since becoming a slave, she became afraid very easily. Every shadow dancing in the night as the moon came in through the window, sudden movement in the crowd or loud noise, snapped Nymphias back to how she felt the day she had been rushing through her village, mayhem, screams and violence surrounding her. She had been all alone then, so young and helpless too.

The sudden fit made Nymphias try to step back from the horse was, to be honest, a lot larger than Nymphias. A lot larger and weighed a lot more, enough pounds to crush her skull and bones. As she tried to back up before the horse harmed her, when really the animal probably wouldn’t have, she somehow managed to trip over her own feet, landing on her bottom and then her back.

Her first thought was, really, nothing at all. She’d just gotten the wind tripped out of her and her next thought was along the lines of: Did the charioteer see? Did Azarion now think she was an idiot? If he did, she couldn’t disagree.

“Shit, fuck, cunt!” said Nymphias. She’d just learned those words but they felt damn appropriate just about now.

@Chevi