Joaquin

JOAQUÍN Gaia Lupa - HERE (She wasn't listed) Valeria Flacca - HERE Hector - HERE

Setting aside her own travel preparations – namely packing enough costumes to decorate the Roman legions, Valeria had made certain the younger children were preoccupied one way or another while she had her guest, but Flacca was intended to arrive later for a brief introduction, though Valeria hadn’t yet made mention of that to Clio. As a writer, Valeria wanted Flacca to know and hopefully associate with a writer closer to her own age in hopes of lighting and cultivating that fire for writing in her own daughter. The day was humid and the heat almost suffocating and staying in the shadowy indoors offered very little solace, leaving Valeria to shoo slaves out from the gardens so that she could sit there with the gentle breeze and an arrangement of cooled drinks. Valeria herself was dressed in flowy summery garb and floral jewellery in an effort to stay away the temperature. Save for the distant dog bark or the far-off crooning of the cicadas, the inner gardens were relatively quiet. Once Clio’s presence was known, Valeria had the young woman led into the gardens. Valeria was reclining comfortably and when she caught sight of Clio, she slightly rolled her body to greet the new arrival with an outreached her hand for her to take. “Oh, Clio, take my hand,” she greeted with a smile. “Unfortunately, I am far too comfortable to properly embrace you, but you must forgive me and have a seat yourself. What do you think of the gardens?” In Valeria’s opinion, it had changed far too much for her liking now since the earthquake and regardless of Clio’s answer, it would be an invitation for Valeria to voice her own thought. @Chevi

“Very true, it is most understandable,” Valeria answered sympathetically as Pinaria made mention of her late husband and while she would have liked to have offered her condolences, she wondered if the other woman had grown tired of hearing the same empty expressions of pity. Valeria had enough years under her stola since the loss of her brother. There had never been a body to give a sense of closure, but the clumsy good intentions of others never helped bring closure instead they drew-out what was already painful. Although, the memory of her father hiring professional mourners to wail at the funeral of her brother simply to pad the numbers that would have otherwise been significantly smaller, given that ‘Porcus’ was an obnoxious man in life, always made crack into a smile. “I, for one, am most happy that you re-join us.” Valeria placed a hand on the woman’s back unthinkingly as she turned towards Circus Maximus as if she had just remembered it standing there in all its glory. At Pinaria’s suggestion that they go inside, Publius’s face lit up. The races were bustling as ever, and it was possible that there were not many seats close-by. “If there are none, I’ll simply sit on someone,” Valeria jested with the wave of her hand as she walked, keeping an eye on her son. Her daughter dutifully followed, carrying her second daughter. “It’s quite busy today, isn’t it? Must be the weather. There would be no better time to rub your sweaty shoulders against someone else’s.” ‘That’s not true!’ came Publius’s protest, annoyed that his mother and her jokes couldn’t appreciate the races just as much as he did. @Atrice

In contrast to Titus, Valeria was enjoying herself. On the boat, the hot day had grown slightly cooler as the wind out on the water almost seemed to take on a life of its own. The boat bobbed up and down with the arrival of every rise in the water that had appeared more serene on land as it shimmered and sparkled beneath the sun. Valeria was filled with a sense of adventure, the same that she had felt initially when she was met with the scenic Dacian country of deep forest and slopping mountains. From the beginning, she fully embraced the wild sea as the wind had begun to unravel and undo the morning work of the slaves that had curled and tucked her naturally straight hair. She observed the distance growing between them and the city of Naples as they were rowed, eventually their view was met with shoreline and the occasional opulent seaside villa beyond the city on one side and a scattering of boats and then the endlessness of the sea on the other. Through the sound of the wind whipping in her eardrums, Valeria angled her head down towards her husband. “Did no one tell you this boat was a ten-day journey?” she asked with feigned surprised, brushing her thumb gently against his hair in a subconscious gesture to at least say that she was there for him. She could both understand his impatience, having felt that to a degree while sitting in a carriage on her way to Dacia, and equally take some pleasure in his pain. The island itself was beginning to materialise into something more than a dark blue shape in the distance, she could make out its greenery and sandy beaches. After briefly pausing, she said, looking up towards Aenaria, “Rejoice, Titus. I can actually see land now. I’m not joking this time.” @Liv @whoeverwantstotorturetitustoo

Aurelia had audacity. While they had once been companions in their youth, their choices had led them along very different paths and that no longer lent her the same permissions to speak so familiarly about her husband as she had – or even to bring up her own deceased so pitilessly. Had it perhaps been Horatia, Valeria might have laughed as Valeria enjoyed a little vulgarity and mockery sprinkled like seasoning into her life. But with Aurelia, it was uncomfortable and awkward, especially with her reputation in mind. It, of course, had nothing to do with her nether regions which probably looked more akin to something that had died by the roadside and had been sitting in the hot sun for a few weeks. But rather how she was known for her irresponsibility and recklessness. Unfortunately, the gods did not grace everyone with good sense. The stupidity of others was often entertaining but from only ever so afar. It was a different thing when it found itself in your own home. So long as Valeria kept some form of distance – emotional distance – then perhaps, she would indulge the other woman. “Very well, one cup of wine and then you must leave,” Valeria relented. She never held Aurelia responsible for the deterioration of their friendship. Life happened. However, she hated unexpected visitors, strangers that were far too familiar, and being dressed down in the presence of guests and Aurelia had managed all three. “This way now, or do you intend to stand there and flatulate at the door?” she shot over her shoulder as she turned to bring the woman out into the gardens. @Beauty

Valeria’s feet crossed the warm floor of the tepidarium as her eyes crossed to the older women that Horatia referenced with a smile tugging at the corner of lips in amusement. They were deep in their conversation. Their expressions, the shake of their heads, and occasionally audible “oh, nooo” made clear how much they enjoyed feeding off one another’s energy as they shared the confused details of some scandalous occurrence or other. “I’m already lamenting the middle-age beauties. Everything has begun to sag,” Valeria jested with a loud laugh that made a few heads turn and a solitary distant tut in disapproval could be heard. She did not dread age, by now she had come to terms that one day, it would certainly be her and she hoped that if that were the case, it would be Horatia there with her just as those matrons had each other. “Though I am in the right mood to be just as outraged by some gossip as they are. Here, let me start, there’s talk of a gladiator with three cocks.” As she broke the water surface and slowly lowered, feeling how the warm water eased the stresses in her muscles, she understood Horatia’s contentedness in the time away from home. “Let us not forget the drunken men who sleep on the floor of our domus,” Valeria added with a chuckle, but she agreed. Being a mother and being a person were two things that women like them often had to balance. “Then we must make plans for the next week and leave our husbands wondering if we’ve finally set them aside for each other as much as we do with them and the little triumvirate they have arranged with themselves and Longinus.” @Sara

It seemed other families in Rome had the same idea to make use of the summer weather to see the races. “Oh, yes, this is all of us, but I haven’t been counting,” Valeria joked with the shrug of her shoulder, while her son impatiently turned around to stare at the Circus Maximus in youthful longing. The magic of the races just a few paces away, but his mother was an obstacle. “Valeriana, Flacca, Publius, say hello to Pinaria,” she instructed. Valeriana was the first to greet the woman, followed by Flacca, and Publius’s lifeless and sombre ‘good-day’ followed. “I have been well, thank you,” Valeria answered. “Although, you might have heard about my father. No, he has not died, not yet, Gods be willing, but his health has been ebbing and flowing for a while now. I must have told you that, hadn’t I?” She likely did not need any direct telling, it was as good as common knowledge now, much to her father’s dismay given his pride. “I was not able to make the reading group with Horatia Justinia. How did it go? Any gossip that will wake me up before the races?”

“Poor little pear,” Valeria offered with a sympathetic tut. She was a late bloomer, but it still felt as if it were a wave good-bye to the carefreeness of childhood and a welcoming gift into the pains of adulthood. “Sulpicia had a prior engagement with a girl friend of hers, unfortunately.” That was Valeria’s go-to answer whenever she did not feel like diving into a ‘well, my adolescent daughter is going through one of her inexplicably strange moods and it’s best not to take her out of the house’. Besides, it was freeing to be her own person without having to stop and remember ‘did I feed the child?’ “But I remember when Sulpicia was that age,” she mused, moving her body to ease the battle of removing her clothes for the slaves. But gods, did she feel old saying that. It sometimes amazed her that it was possible for her to be a grandmother. She peered at her friend who was already fully undressed. “Are you this quick with Aulus? Anyway,” she said, returning to their original lovely conversation. “I believe I kept it quiet it from him for a while but detailing shocking news to husbands always requires a little diplomatic expertise. A little word foreplay to get him ready, some lubrication to soften it, then you go in with full force with it. Titus has not broken into a traumatic sweat in the middle of the night… yet.” The marriage of their daughter was an inevitable future and that was one area that Valeria could not jest about. Finally, free of her clothes, Valeria sauntered towards her friend. “Ready,” she confirmed, giving Horatia an approving slap on the ass. It deserved a poem. @Sara

“Oh, I will be,” Hector promised Tertius, half-swooning because of his master’s show of concern. Tertius could drop a pin and it would give Hector the breath of life. The slave then vanished back into the domus with the kind of bravery that only a narcissist could have. Underneath his bare feet, he could feel the ground quivering still, as if Terra Mater had a change of mind after a morning quickie and decided to prolong her waves of pleasure. Inside the domus was quiet and devoid of the other slaves that were usually scuttling around like vermin. As Hector headed towards the kitchens for a cloth and water, he paused to peer into Tertius’s room, just the way it had been left. In all the earlier mayhem, Hector hadn’t noticed his tunic had been thrown aside on the other side of the floor, and seeing a wine cup that had set aside the night prior, he took a quick sip and then pressed onwards. The kitchens were dark, plates and vases had jostled from the surfaces and crashed into the floor, creating little shards that poked into his feet when he first entered. On his return, Hector bounded up to Tertius’s side with a happy smile like a puppy looking for its pat on the head and a high-pitched ‘good boy’. “Here you are,” Hector said to Charis in one of the most insincerely friendly voices while thrusting both the cloth and the nearest water he could find in her general direction. “Would you like to know the state of the interior, domine?” he asked, turning to Tertius in a way that seemed like he was giving the man his full attention but with the subtle body language that almost communicated a ‘you two aren’t a part of the conversation’ to the other two, especially Charis. @Atrice @Sharpie @Sara

If anyone was dead, it was Aurelia Phillipa. Perhaps not dead in body, but certainly to Valeria’s memory. Years had passed and usual slogging through the everyday took precedence over a friendship that met its natural end in childhood. In fact, that was what sourced all the confusion in Valeria’s face as she was embarrassed by what was now essentially an acquaintance assuming a close friendship. “I appreciate the flattery, Aurelia Phillipa, but it seems your sight has aged since the last you saw of me,” Valeria replied, though she did not know how well the other woman would receive her comment. She had not been expecting any guests and for once, dressed in far less pomp and theatre than she usually did. “Since you speak of ghosts, I don’t suppose you were coming to see if I were still alive, were you?” she asked. Oddly, in the last while, there had been plenty of people checking in with Titus or offering their condolences but where the news of her death came from, Valeria did not know. The silver lining being that it offered Valeria the creative inspiration to fuel conspiracies of wives being replaced by lookalikes through her writing. “Well, now you’ve had one good look at me in the flesh. You are free to leave now.” @Beauty

Valeria grinned and brought her wrist back under her nose to re-examine the smell. Now that Horatia mentioned it, there was both an overwhelming sweetness and overwhelming something else to the scent. The kind that now reminded her of Porcus – her brother – when he believed that fragrances perfectly substituted bathing, leaving his family to fall victim to the stench of ass and roses. Would it wash from her wrist? Valeria sensed that Horatia wanted to be in the baths and she gave a disappointed sigh, the type of sigh that a friend gave when they were told ‘we have to go home’ while standing beside the bar. But luckily for Horatia, she did not have to pry Valeria’s stiff corpse from the stall, the excitement of the shopping was dulled by the now strengthening smell of the perfume on her arm, her friend’s observations regarding the gold, and by the growing realisation that what had looked endlessly interesting from afar was just a glorified display of junk. Rome was rife with charlatans looking for easy ways to make more coin, the crowds of the baths offered just that. “Trying to be rid of me so soon, Horatia Justina?” Valeria said in feigned offence, while her hand picked up one of the gold-pieces curiously. “I have as long as Landicus’s long cock.” That meant ‘forever’ in other words. After all, the man’s cock reached Britannia and back, so his poems said. It must be hard, though, folding all that several times over under the toga. It was so long that people screamed about a snake at the bathhouse. Despite her joking, Valeria heeded her friend’s wishes. “Fine, I need to wash this off me before I faint anyways. Let’s get naked,” she said casually and turned to leave the stall behind them. @Sara

Outside the Circus Maximus, the crowds were swarming and increasingly smellier as they began to bump shoulders under the hot sun while trying to push into the complex and its seating arrangements. Naturally, Valeria had very little interest in watching the gladiatorial games, much less the races, and household names like ‘Menelaus’, ‘Bassus’, or ‘Marcellus’ of the Whites evaded her. She often left such things to Titus to take Publius, but she thought of it as a treat for her children, a spur of the moment decision following a morning’s visit to her father’s. The younger two particularly would find excitement amongst the crowds, charged by the social energy and adventures that circled the track over and over again. Flacca, on the other hand, was at the age where she seemed to want to be elsewhere and instead carried reading along with her. Regrettably, it was not the great Landicus, but it was still something that made Valeria smile. Although years ago, when Valeria had done the same, would have made her father hiss a “put that away”. It was poor manner to read in company, after all, but to Valeria, it was poor form to be unread. As they tracked through the crowds towards where they could make their entrance, Valeria instinctively held onto her son’s shoulder to keep him close, while her eldest was carrying her squirming sister, who kept trying to climb over Flacca’s shoulder to point out people or animals in the surrounding area. As Valeriana pointed in one direction with a “look!”, Valeria followed as she swept through some of the people spread out and around the stadium and caught the familiar face of Pinaria Gaia. “We’ll go inside in just a moment,” Valeria told her children, only to be met with Publius’s complaint. “But our seats!” “But Pinaria Gaia!” Valeria complained back, mimicking her son’s whine, before she added “it’ll only be a minute” even though in momspeak, that essentially meant the same as when she created a side-trip to the markets with her children and had them bouncing from foot to foot in exhaustion as she turned minutes into hours of looking at fabrics and jewels. As Valeria approached, she tilted slightly as if to get a good look at Pinaria as she excitedly opened her arms. “Fancy seeing you here,” she greeted her with a laugh. @Atrice

The early summer sun was out, brightening the city’s white columns and terracotta, and with good weather came the endless prospects the outside world had to offer. While Valeria was often content staying at home with her wax tablet and scrolls, she also found herself in need of stimulation and company outside her family. Because the high-end bathhouse was a place of both leisure and a cultural hotspot with the occasional theatre or music performance and a collection of literature housing reading rooms and a library with shelves for scrolls. Despite having the litter brought to the baths where she intended to enjoy a warm soaking and massage, Valeria was gowned – for the journey – as an artist would express herself: in bright colour, with a thick, styled wig, and kohl. She made sure to have Horatia accompany her. “Think of the fun we’ll have,” she promised. After all, the weather, and an excursion anywhere put her in good spirits. As they left the heat of the sun in the front gardens of the bathhouse, they were welcomed by the coolness of the bathhouse interior. Although music or the projection of dramatic lines were not yet filling up the frescoed walls, the high domed ceiling compensated for it with the sounds of echoing footfall on marble and the flapping of birds that had found their way inside through the skylights. “Oh, I was hoping they would be here,” Valeria gasped eagerly as her eyes caught the set-up of stalls near the entrance, each were brimming with colourful trinkets and perfumes. The woman made a quick beeline towards them, pressing her fingers with their polished and coloured nails here and there as she pulled one thing out after the other followed by a “how much?” before she put it back. It was never a question of money as it was that Valeria simply liked the victory of a good bargain. After having some perfume sprayed on to her wrist, Valeria took a whiff before turning to Horatia, holding it out for the woman to smell. “What do you think? It doesn’t smell too much like a centurion’s sweaty ass, does it?” @Sara

Hector’s eyebrows rose. The ceiling in Charis’s chamber had partly come down. Why didn’t it try harder? The fleeting thought was overwhelmed by a feeling of sympathy where he could recognise that Charis was visibly shaken. He still hated her, but his hatred had its limits. Although from the sounds of it, it might not have been the case for Jocasta and Eirene. They saw it, implying they were passive. So, had they left Charis out of natural fear or had that been on purpose? “They’re fine,” Hector answered dismissively, having caught sight of Jocasta somewhere in his headcount, but Charis’s concern for them seemed nonsensical, if it were the case they simply ‘saw’ but did nothing – unless she truly was that stupid and Hector was always happy to believe that. He watched with a wrinkled nose in disgust as she pulled back the makeshift bandaging on her arm and felt sick from the sight. “What do you think you are doing?” Hector gasped. “Do you want the bleeding to stop or not?” Pressing a hand to his face, he shook his head. Was it a headache coming in or was it the aftermath of the earthquake? He had to bite back a hefty portion of the cattiness that he reserved for Charis when it was just the two of them. “We need to get that cleaned up before you get sick from it.” Before it started to look even grosser. “I can get something,” he said, though from the tone it sounded like he was asking for Tertius’s permission first. @Atrice @Sharpie @Sara

Hector had remained in close proximity to Tertius, keeping his master in sight, even after his daughter had scrambled past towards one of the female servants and instead of following her, he seemed to be searching for something – or someone – Charis. Gross. It was a bitch-slap to his smugness just seconds earlier. ‘She’s fine’, he wanted to remark through gritted teeth – whether ‘fine’ meant she was under a pile of rubble or not. Still, he lingered behind him and found the chance to unleash his annoyance on a stray innocent fellow slave passer-by that was trying to go to safety. “Are you hard of hearing?” Hector said in a high-pitched voice. “Go fucking outside!” As Tertius re-emerged in view, Hector follow and as he stepped out, he was able to make out Teutus and Charis, the latter of whom gained a pair of accusatory eyes in her direction. Just to make a point of pomposity, he repeated Tertius’s question: “Is everyone here?” like two-second delayed translation. It was also to further stamp in a point on his master’s governance. Already tall, Hector began to count heads – all of whom belonged to others who probably wanted to see him made into a tagenitai with blonde coiffed hair – while combing a hand through his hair in an effort to make himself marginally presentable. Hector sighed. No one was shrieking in inexplicable misery, so it was likely no one (important) had died. “The gods clearly favour you, domine,” Hector smiled, though he felt as if he had just walked off a rocky boat at sea – not that he even knew what that was like. In all the disorder, Tertius was well, his family were well, as was – as much as it pained him to count her – the mother of his currently unborn child, though he purposely excluded her as he spoke again. “All your offspring are untouched. That is a definite sign of good fortune.” From behind his master who had his daughter in his arms, he affectionately brushed a bit of dust from his back as if he were tasked with polishing a shrine. @Atrice @Sharpie @Sara

If Tertius had not roused him, Hector would have died. He had been deep asleep, comfortably sinking into the bed, like a cat that had decided it loved the comfort and had become permanently affixed. With the shaking of his arm, his eyes peeled and blinked up open but the regular slow introduction into the morning had not quite happened. The most he understood of the situation was that one moment he was staring at Tertius’s beautiful backside and the next Tertius was clothed and out the door, all while everything seemed to be moving. Groggy, delirious, and confused, the slave haphazardly rushed to follow his master like a shadow but became tangled in bedding and everything went white as he found himself face first into the floor. In the background, he could hear screaming in the distance and then it became clearer what was happening. But if there was anything far more terrifying than the threat of death at the hands of forces that seemed far beyond his humanity, it was that he did not even have the time for his morning preening. Oh gods, he thought. His creams. As he scrambled just a little behind Tertius like a duckling after its mother, he simply parroted whatever Tertius yelled while cupping his hands around his mouth, even if no one asked him to, and sounding annoyingly smug and self-important in the process. Now fully awake, any opportunity for pomposity would not be lost, not even for an earthquake. “Alright, everyone out! You all heard him, out! And into the peristyle with those dreadful curls of yours,” he added as one of the female slaves collided into him before continuing on. He remained outside of Antonia’s room as Tertius entered, still barking “outside!” at people’s backs, occasionally so far as pressing his face up to them and giving a “where do you think you’re going? The peristyle is that way!”, and loudly clapping his hands in a ‘chop, chop, get with it’ manner. Despite his energy, his intent was to be at his master’s side wherever that would be. @Atrice @Sharpie @Sara

@Anna Valeria Flacca - #6 - Orange - Joaquin Gaia Lupa - #2 - Violet - Joaquin Hector - #8 - Blue - Joaquin

I have an away up (Discord) until the end of February, but here's my roll call. Joaquín ~ staying ~ keeping: Hector, Valeria Flacca, Gaia Lupadropping: Nada

Saturnalia had been enjoyable in the past for Hector, but it always presented itself as a bizarre experience. Not serving Tertius in the way that he always did was like asking a mother not to be a mother, there were moments where he would see his master do something as small as tip the wine vessel over his cup and almost want to reach out to do it for himself, as if there was an art to it. Even if the only artistry about it was that he was doing it for him. But instead, he tried to enjoy the festivities rather than grimacing at how he could have or would have. This year was different than the last ones. First, there was Charis being the apple of his master’s eye – or one of them – and then there was Teutus. The whole situation with him was strange and admittedly awkward. Hector had yet to figure out how to address him, his transition from slave to a Varus by name and position didn’t exactly ‘compute’. Thus far, Teutus was the receiving end of a mixture of confused constipated but annoyed looks. As Hector entered into the hall, his first instinct as always was the wine. As he took a cup for himself, he turned around and took another, handing it out for Jocasta like an unspoken treaty. As he had learned from his time with Helios, there was nothing more unionising than a mutual hatred. It was mostly out of convenience than anything that ran any deeper – as if Hector made friends. His eyes caught Charis’s makeup and he felt himself almost choke on a gasp. “Oh. My. Hephaestus. She looks like a fish,” Hector mumbled through his teeth and under his breath, purposely out of his master’s range. He had spent literal days in preparation for the feast with his legion of ‘beauty products’. He wanted his skin to glow for the celebrations, even if inwardly he felt dark and bitterly. And yet Charis shoved her face into a dead flame pit and emerged with dark eyes and what looked like a horse’s ass at the back of her head yet had the gall to stand there and ‘flirt’ with his master. Moving off from the drinks, he began to pass Teutus as more slaves arrived. “If it isn’t the man of the hour,” Hector greeting Teutus, sounding pleasant and even offering a smile, albeit one that was rather empty on any further inspection. @Atrice @Sara @Sharpie

In a classic show of self-importance, Hector wrinkled his nose in light disgust; as predicted, the jest had gone over his head. Trying to break a genuine laugh from the slave, if that was ever the purpose, was like chipping away at a block of ice. As Attis proceeded to make introductions, Hector limply followed, and his interest mildly increased at ‘Felix’ with the perk of his ears before his attention fell away again, listlessly completing the round of names as it ended on the only woman of the group. She smirked in his direction and proceeded to greet him in Greek to which his brows pressured together in confusion. She couldn’t have been making a pass at him, could she? Why else would anyone smirk at him in such a way? Hector let out a ‘tut’ sound. “So, you can all speak Greek, congratulations,” he observed dryly, deciding then was a good time as any to enjoy his wine like a cat at its milk bowl. That was until by a matter of bad coincidence, someone passing from behind jutted into him in all the crowdedness and mayhem of the midday eating. The slave looked like a mix between horrified and annoyed but then cleared his throat, brushed a hand through his hair, and proceeded to pretend as if nothing had happened. “No, stay,” Hector barked at the one called Felix, catching his ‘I can leave’. Even if he decided to leave, then Hector would follow. “Just as…” – there came a constipated pause as Hector’s expression wrinkled with an attempt to run through the new names – “Rumpus said, we’re all friends. Have your meal here and listen to Attis and his jokes.” He took another sip of his Titan-sized wine. @Sharpie @Liv @Chevi

“You’re lost?” she asked, more surprise than mockery in her voice, even though she was lightly amused and smiled by that point. “It could happen to anyone,” she added with reassurance, although she herself was still trying to recover from her own mortification. If it hadn’t been so dark, then the rising colour in her cheeks and the flustered look in her face might’ve been seen, despite her attempts to keep her voice natural behaviour and small talk. “Where were you before Rome?” She had guessed that he mightn’t have been from the neighbourhood, he didn’t carry himself in the way that most did when they were. He had taken an interest in the sights that had become so repetitive to her that they had melted into backdrop drowned out by thoughts and imaginings. Yet by the way of his words, it seemed that he originated from farther than she had imagined originally. By comparison, she had seen little beyond the neighbourhood and far less beyond Rome. It cost to travel and she rarely, if at all, had that amount of money. It was lucky at least that he’d encountered her, she wouldn’t leave him until she felt comfortable that he was a little more certain of where he was. Call that a mother’s instinct. “If you’d like, I could show you around,” she suggested, growing more relaxed where the man had a calmness that radiated, and she was in no hurry to go home. “It’s not exactly the forum so it may prove disappointing.” @Chevi

It was crowded inside and that alone was enough to drive Hector away. While others were met with the beckoning smell of food, he immediately took notice to the characteristic airlessness of a packed room and suffocating body odour and just about covered his nasal passage with a hand while he made his way for wine. While he often made a complete show of how much he couldn’t spare his valuable time of preening or bathing under the warm sun with a bit of wine, he found that he secretly did enjoy being around other humans. If only because it provided him the wonderful pastime of wrinkling his nose or looking scandalised at minute but strange habits in the streets. As he spun with what was a group’s serving of wine appropriated into one man’s giant cup, he was left with the torture of pressing against loud and red-faced strangers, who occasionally reared their ugly faces into view as he passed by, to find somewhere to plant his bottom and vegetate for the night. “Oh, you,” he greeted Attis, the first face his eyes fell onto as he slid into the first free chair before he briefly observed the others, all slaves, and moved his gaze from face to face with an air of judgement and disinterest. It was evidently barely interested in what they were doing, they could have been planning an uprising for all he cared, until his shallow attention halted on one who had a triad of qualities that caught his attention: male, beautiful, and very beautiful. Hey, a slave could look. But it was after looking at that one slave that his head swept along the other slaves a second time as if to double-check what he was doing associating with the rest, as if it was unfathomable that people found company for reasons beyond looks. “What’s going on? Is this some kind of a joke?” he asked, sounding almost as if he were making an accusation. @Sharpie @Chevi @Liv

@Lauren I'll hit you a PM tonight

Gaia’s brows pressed together in a show of equal confusion. In the light-and-dark of the lamplights and night-time, it was difficult to search for any telling of the truth in his face. She was left with the uncertainty in his voice but with Titus, she was always left with a confused instinct and often second-guessed herself. Still, if he was indeed a slave, then he was unfamiliar to her both in the sense that she had not seen him before and that he had a more polished air than the servants she was used to. In fact, more than most, generally-speaking, given that people on the streets were often in a hurry and abrasive, just as she had been with him. Particularly in the madness of the crowds or at certain hours, usually later in the day and more-so once the sun fell. Normally, expletives would have been thrown back rather than a question. It might’ve been that which made her reconsider. “I’m sorry,” she answered slowly, sounding confused in her attempt to diminish the earlier accusation. “I thought you were someone else.” But she didn’t elaborate any further, she couldn’t, and yet there was some relief in her voice but only for as long as it lasted. She could have left it there and continued as one might in Rome, but the curiosity had the better of her. “Are you not from here, anywhere near then?” @Chevi

Right at ‘Charis’, Hector’s amiable ‘service face’ tensed, microscopically it had disintegrated into a scowl where his lips tightened. All had been well until he uttered ‘that name’. Despite all the annoyance rising once again through every fibre of his making, he gave his master a sycophantic smile followed by a quiet brown-nosing ‘of course’, even though the words tasted sour in his mouth, accompanied by an adoring nod. As he bowed and backed away to make his exit from the room, his first quiet steps quickened into a brisk walk that led him out into the gardens in search of the rat. As he entered, he stopped a few steps short of her, looked as if he were confused by the proximity, and then backed up and retracted those few steps. “My master wants you, you elephentine turd,” he said through gritted teeth. “And try not to smell, he has company.” @Sara ( @Atrice @Liv )