Joaquin

“Oo, I like honest,” Valeria said, as if Nymphias had suggested something daring, and while that was certainly true, she didn’t feel that she would be getting any candour out of Nymphias anytime soon. Not when the young slave girl had repeated a promise not to gossip after Valeria told her not to gossip, an act of parroting which the woman found unnecessary. Slaves often did so, perhaps something about it was intended to set their masters’ minds at ease but after years of it, it was one of the things that made Valeria feel bored very quickly. With that, Valeria began fishing again through what she had written down on paper and as she silently skimmed through each, determining which or what she would share first. “You probably won’t understand a single thing I say, but I like my poems to be cohesive and unified, a collection that is almost like one large story.” 

She glanced between her daughter, busy butchering and disembowelling the wax tablet, and Nymphias on the floor. “Did I ask you to sit?” Valeria voiced, accompanying her words with a perplexed expression. Such an act might have been ignored if it were a personal slave that she had known for years, considering that the familiarity and friendship in some cases allowed that leeway, but it was different with a new slave, a completely new one, who had yet to learn much. “Stand up, stand up,” she commanded with hurried waves before purposely waiting as if someone had hit a pause. “Now sit down, girl, because I told you to.” 

@Beauty

A loud laugh burst through her mouth unceremoniously, which might’ve turned heads as if a lightning bolt had suddenly struck the gardens if it hadn’t been that most guests had already been acquainted with it for the past while. “It’s where most of Rome rightfully belongs,” Valeria added, following her remark with a short mischievous smile. Men behaved in ways that called for the mass production of leashes for the sanity of the empire but plenty of women she’d known were no less deserving of the same.

She adored planning parties, there was an artistry to them. “What I would do differently… I’m sure it would take much to shock the likes of you, less for my peers, but indulge a woman like myself,” Valeria said with a lazy waving gesture of her hand, referring to what the younger woman likely and rightfully saw: a boring upper-class woman and mother, which didn’t upset her at all. “I would have started with a change in the dessert. Just when all has settled down and the guests have grown full with food and sleepy from all the wine, the slaves would roll in a great mound of cake in tow, the height and weight of an elephant, in the shape of copious breasts, a nice jiggling centre piece, just to get everyone’s hearts beating out of their lethargy. Call it compensation, if you will,” she expressed with animation in her voice, gestures with her hands, and all the energy and relish of a twelve-year old boy who just discovered tits. “But you know what would be a far more interesting party? A gathering of all the stumpy, old lechers of Rome with the promise of a nude and blind-folded festivity with the fairest maidens from far and wide and a naughty frolic with whomever they can get their hands on, only to have them cop a feel of one another with no girls in sight.”

@Sara

Their mistress was small, but she had the bloodthirst of a Roman legion. Valeria didn’t know how far or for how long even this would and could escalate if Nymphias had her way when their master was gone. For the time being, it was surviving the next minute and then the next. She caught the warning in Titus’s face, there was a short acknowledgement of it in her eyes, but she kept smiling a rather tense, wide, and rigid smile which mirrored a grimace more than happiness. At least, Nymphias was curious about her contest and it meant that they might be able to prolong what was likely the inevitable.

“A contest of knives,” she answered, still trying to sound as engaging and compelling as possible, even if she was making everything up where she went and the faux enthusiasm in her voice did not match the dread in the pit of her stomach. “What will it involve? Knives. Endless knives.” She nodded her head for emphasis. In a way, Nymphias was like a child enamoured with a shiny ball, except with knives in this case. “Titus, Porcus, and myself will compete against each other…” – at least no one would be throwing anything at anyone, decreasing the possibility of death— “… test our skills with the knife. Which of us can carve the best and the fastest, for example?” She took one of the knives that Porcus had and a fruit she’d taken in, rested it in her palm, and cut into it. 

“Ow,” she feigned cutting herself, dropping the fruit to the floor and quickly pressing the root of her thumb into her mouth just for show. If Nymphias thought that they’d be clumsy, hurt themselves, then she might just agree to it. 
 

@Liv @Beauty

She would have assumed that he wasn’t listening if it weren’t for the fact that she knew him, and his purposeful delay was a little play for power. It also made her immediately regret speaking at all. If Titus wanted her to feel stupid and small, he succeeded, and he didn’t even need to speak yet because it was all in the way that he made her wait as he read and showcased his enjoyment of it. When he did speak, the twisted workings of his mind came out, which only further justified her regret. He’d washed his hands of the blood so as far as he was concerned, he’d washed himself of any further issue. But he hadn’t seen her face. ‘Her face would scare away customers’ was what she wanted to say, the ones that mattered at least, but as he began to turn the conversation on her, the words along with any of complaint of hers died before they even made it out. Did he forget that before they had slaves, she was the one to clean his subligaculum or that even now, she went into the market to haggle prices for the fabrics to be used for bedding?

“You were clearly in the middle of something important,” Gaia said after he was finished, knowing now was not the time to engage with Titus, if there ever was such a moment anymore. She hadn’t sat down when he invited her to and instead, had remained standing. She had no intention of changing that either. He had berated her dead mother – yet despite all the bad that he said of her, he found her good enough to sleep with. “I’ll leave you alone.”

@Beauty

Gaia stepped out of the Elysium and into the cool night, pulling a cloth close over her head, both to keep herself warm and to keep any clear view of herself obscured from sight. She was used to travelling alone back and forth between her home, the brothel, and the homes belonging to expecting or new mothers at late hours, but the familiar streets often grew rowdy after the sun went down, especially as men and women began to stumble out onto the stone-paved roads, drunk off wine and shouting into the night. Enough trouble came where there was a mixture of drink, boredom, and bravado, and she’d learned to keep herself largely invisible, where inebriation might draw them over to her. 

As she walked, Gaia glanced over her shoulder, a habit that she’d made when she’d started to realise her brother was getting people to follow her and her son. Even though what he intended to find out from either of them evaded her.  She caught sight of tall figure directly behind her and at first, didn’t think anything of it until after a few steps and deliberation, she slowly began to wonder and second-guess. She stopped in her tracks and waited for the man to come nearer, it became clearer that he was a slave, though one could never be too certain with the way some dressed. “Are you following me?” she asked frankly.
 

@Chevi

Valeria’s brows furrowed in either vague or uncertain recognition of the name. While she was widely read or acquainted with most well-known names, at least those prior to Dacia, including those in brief passing, there were certain areas of literature that she admittedly gleaned out of disinterest, chiefly those that would normally be of high interest to her father: the non-fictions. For some writers, it was unmerited prejudgement but after travelling beyond Rome and Italia and being at the periphery of her husband’s military service, there was a small seed of a thought in Valeria’s mind to stretch her feet into writing she trekked less. Either way, the name intrigued her, and was kept in the back of her mind for later investigation, certain she would find something of interest. 

As the girl answered her, Valeria sat back down into the stone comfortably, while looking on with a smile. “Scholarly like your grandfather?” she asked curiously, which might’ve been meant her earlier suspicions were correct, but it also provided a window into the young girl’s mind, which was proving to be curious to a far older woman who found such works dry. “Let’s say that you’ve written something, something scholarly,” Valeria gestured her hand into the air, “what would be about?” There were a few scholarly works that wrote with authority in matters pertaining to domestic life that were by men under female pseudonyms, but Valeria never felt it was quite the same as what she did with her Landicus persona. Although, this conversation made her consider the idea of having Landicus comment about the sewage system. 

“You also shouldn’t be pressured to pigeonhole yourself somewhere, let your writing reign free,” she said just a touch theatrically and with a grin. “I wrote everything under the sun over the years until I realised what I like best, a little like the marriage bed.” 
 

@Chevi

By the time, Gaia returned, the sky had turned dark and the street was illuminated by oil lamps. Stepping in from the quiet of the outside, which no longer had the rumbling of crickets of the summer and late autumn, Gaia already felt a wave of dread. It was strange that there had even been moments where she regarded him as a brother in the sense of the word as a sister should, like when they were younger, and he would join her on the floor with her wood horses. Over years, it soured. In one of the rooms, firelight was glowing, falling into the dark hall, and as she slowly stepped into the light to pass, a seated Titus came into view. Their eyes met and she entered the room to join him instead of hurrying away.

“Your slave Barca, her entire face is swollen,” she informed him rather than giving a greeting and honestly it disgusted her to even speak. The fingers rested on her leather satchel had lifted to gesture lightly at her own face the extent of what he had done. “Her eyes wouldn’t open.” She didn’t elaborate on what she did to help her, only because Titus wasn’t likely to be interested of the things, that through trial and error or from Hippocrates, from physicians, midwives learned. And while she was certainly no replacement for a physician by any means, she’d seen enough from the aftermath of a birthing bed that she knew a pungent injury when she saw one.

“She can’t work like that. For every slave that you indispose, there’s one less to make an earning.” If he couldn’t understand by sense, then perhaps by money.

@Beauty

Titus’s summary was succinct and honest, he had hardly even coated his words, and without a pause, Valeria cackled, finding more entertainment in the reaction than from the inanity of the story. As a part of a process of critique, Valeria often considered ‘he or she could have written this, he or she could have written that’ on syntax, flow, diction whenever she read, it guided how she approached and improved her own but with this, it was objectively bad and hearing Titus say so validated her feeling that there was nothing to learn here except that perhaps Romans weren’t always as cultured as they liked to think. Then, who was the intended audience? “I could keep shouting like Tullus if you like,” Valeria responded in her deepest voice.

“I felt like you would be curious about the horse chase,” Valeria said with a self-satisfied ‘I knew it!’ look, but it was possible that his interest extended only as far as her reading went. “Publius would have thought the same, but he would have said it was crap too.” Thankfully, their elder two had enough sense to distinguish bad from good, while Valeriana was probably too young to care – or even pay full attention. “But you see, Pustula has us. We have to know what happens next now…” she trailed off, pulling the scroll up to find where she had left off: Tullus hurled out of the brothel, drenched in muck and likely blood, forlorn and at a loss over his stolen daughter. 

“In his quest for senseless violence, Tullus was a man to fear in the presence of pottery, a man to fear for the sheer volume of his voice. ‘THIS IS NOT THE LAST YOU’VE HEARD OF ME!’” She broke back into another laugh and twist, careful not to drop the scroll – what a horrible thing that would have been. “By the gods, all of Rome would tremble from his fury, and yet it was the last they heard of him for he threw himself upon someone’s horse that so happened to be conveniently stationed near the brothel and proceeded to charge it down the streets. Where? Only the gods knew. Will he find his beloved daughter? Not likely, if this is what his search was amounting to,” Valeria admittedly was beginning to skim, re-write her own version, while also stringing in commentary. “More guards spawned and regenerated from thin air, inexplicably invested in taking this man done but given his hazard to society and the pottery-making industry, perhaps it was well-justified. Oh, this is just terrible, Titus,” Valeria went from her reading voice into a pained whine. “He destroys half of the city in this chase and I can tell you, he doesn’t find his daughter until the end. Not after bludgeoning most of the population. Rome has gone mad. Do you think your brother would want this scroll?” She tossed the scroll gently in Titus’s direction.

@Liv

“I suppose not. You are profiting from them in the end,” Valeria stated with a sense of endorsement, even if, unlike the musician, she was not used to such glances. Certainly, growing up as a horse in a field of lilies that were the other nobile daughters had contributed there. But while she would never – and didn’t intend to – understand the woman’s situation fully, she couldn’t fault someone for making money however they could. After all, she had her own outside her father and her husband as Landicus amassed money by benefitting from the stupidity of others and the controversy that they loved to feed, rather than consume. Still, it was times like these that Valeria was reminded, though she already knew it, that she was essentially a woman of privilege and for all that her literature covered, her joy of digging into the vulgar and the bawdy, she was easily removed. She wasn’t necessarily sheltered, she was a grown woman, but she was still shielded by the luck of her birth. Even if women like herself were never safe from her own parodies, given she was always poking holes in everyone through all the jokes in her writing.

“Oh, he is handsome,” Valeria said. The woman would have to take her word for it. For all, she could have known Titus could have been a feeble, hunchbacked man with missing front teeth and children of a previous marriage thrice her age. “Too handsome, in fact. I like to keep him locked up and every so often to let him out for a bit of air or food.” It was very likely that Valeria’s joke wouldn’t be received very well, they weren’t always, but that was part of the enjoyment and she couldn’t quite help herself with her absurdity. When she had been younger, she had been acquainted with The Cough, a warning sound that her father made at social events that Valeria likened to what a small dog gave just before a bark, but there were none to have there. “All to keep women from climbing all over him like a pack of hungry wolves.”

@Sara

Socialising was a lot like the anatomy, all it needed was a little lubrication before everything warmed up, and it seemed Valeria’s question had done just the thing. Valeria was probably considerably ‘friendly’ with her slaves, if only because she was vivacious enough a person to enjoy conversation. Some slaves were better than others. 

“Wouldn’t you say it was broken, though, if they’re both dead?” Valeria couldn’t quite help but ask. It wasn’t to purposely tear down her love of a genre, it was a respectable genre, but it was never a surprise that a girl as young as Nymphias would be enamoured with it, especially the most heart-breaking of the lot. Valeria had been the same but only briefly, she felt more fulfilled by literature and the arts than by the material world and the older she became and perhaps luck in a marriage contributed partly, the more she found herself preferring something a little less fiery and volatile in turn for something strong and sturdy where romance was involved. Yet most writers never wrote about that. In fact, under Valeria Flacca, she had written a poem about the quiet bond between an elderly couple in the country, though in her dissatisfaction with people made her feel that it wasn’t what anyone cared to hear or read about. They wanted to read about warty testicles, sagging breasts, and deathly flatulence. 

“I write a lot of romance stories,” Valeria explained with something of mischievous grin, although ‘romance’ wasn’t exactly the truest way to describe what it was that she wrote most of the time. “Now, I am going to tell you some of my story ideas and I want you tell me how they make you feel but you mustn’t tell anyone what I say.” 
 

@Beauty

Hector smiled back to Helios. He was at least happy with what he was getting out of the exchange, although what the other slave wanted in payment was yet to be determined. Pettiness made him feel justified. Inside the home, it was a far easier task to keep his eyes on Charis or at least, subtly weasel out her whereabouts from someone like Jocasta. Even if the woman wasn’t too fond of Hector either and the process of doing so often felt painful because the dislike was mutual. However, nowhere near as painful as it would be if he were to be welcoming of his master’s second lover. “I am as well,” Hector replied with a smug look in response to Helios being glad, deciding that by this point, he could relax and enjoy the drink that he loved so much.

He wondered about the possibility that Charis was not up to anything and that she was clear of all charges, but the slave shook the fleeting consideration from his mind. He didn’t want to even tiptoe near believing that.

“Are you out often or are you normally on your back at the Venus?” Hector said. It was his way of asking how best he could find the other the next time if he needed. “It would seem better that I seek you out again, that way she doesn’t catch wind of anything.” Hector often looked at Charis like a sulky teenager looked at their parent, he doubted her intelligence but still went sneaking around her back.

@Atrice

Valeria played stunned as her fingers were swatted away like flies but inwardly, her stomach was doing backflips in celebration, before she turned towards Titus as their mistress’s attention was on him. The juggling was inventive given that they were limited by the spur of the moment request and the young woman seemed to be amused enough, even if it was temporary, and for that fleeting moment, she was relieved. The look that began to transform onto her face was telling and Valeria almost knew what was coming. Except she didn’t predict it to be as bad as catching knives. She pictured herself on the floor like a pin-pillow, putting even Julius Caesar to shame. She didn’t want to subject one of the slaves from the kitchens to such a fate, but she also didn’t want to subject herself either.

At ‘don’t keep me waiting’, Valeria instantly got up, did a rushed performance of how she was going off to the kitchens, then entirely vanished through the doorway. As she scampered through the halls, her mind raced with new ways of distracting Nymphias from her original plan until she entered the kitchen, but time wasn’t exactly on her side. “Porcus,” Valeria said to the first slave that came into view, thankfully it was one of the slaves that her mistress described: one of the ‘useless and hideous’ ones. “The domina wants a large number of knives. Can you help me with them?” 

She knew leaving Titus alone with Nymphias wasn’t the best idea and after the fact, it must’ve been worse than rushing around, collecting knives with the knowledge of what they were going to do. It was very likely that the mental gymnastics were on purpose but being in a room with her was as well. 

When she returned with Porcus and the knives in tow, Valeria was carrying a tray of fruits and other foods. “I was thinking, domina, would you like to see a contest?” she tried to sound excited so that the excitement may rub off onto her. 
 

@Liv @Beauty

Spurius Gaius Lupus

Request for the son of Gaia Lupa by me and nephew of Titus Aspanius Lupus (owner of the Elysium) by @Beauty. 

• Spurius was raised around the Elysium brothel from the age of nine after his uncle acquired it. Treated as his inheritor, he was made to observe the business and “business” (stranger clientele with strange agreements, under-the-table dealings, etc) that went on over the years.
• His home life would have been shit (to put it bluntly). His uncle is a manipulative, perverted, and scheming man, who mistreats his sister which Spurius would have been witness to plenty. He was probably victim to some of his uncle’s manipulation himself.
• His mother (Gaia) would have been the only positive feature of his family life, but it’s also possible that he could have felt frustrated towards her.
• He never knew his biological father and his mother never told him who he was. Presumably his father was a shitty person and lowly criminal and his conception might’ve been dubious too, which could possibly be an identity crisis for him when/if it comes up: ‘my uncle and my father are horrible people, is that who I am destined to be?’
• Age-wise, he’s roughly 21 (give or take, my math is bad ok) and his mother was 13 when she had him.

This is open-ended. Personality, sexuality, how Spurius feels about his family, whether he genuinely wants to take over the brothel one day, his interests, and his career and career aspirations are changeable and up to the writer. Name/age are the mainstays. 

Pictured is Timothée Chalamet, he could be used but the face is fully open (race can also be open).

“Now that’s wonderful,” Valeria uttered at her mention of sharing her writing with her grandfather who also happened to write. The image in her mind was endearing and something that she hoped she could share with her children, beyond reading or performing for them. “Is your grandfather an author, would I know of him if you named him?”

When asked about publishing, Valeria wasn’t certain of how honest she should be. It wasn’t that she wanted to be discouraging because the process itself was one thing and, in that sense, Valeria had to learn to bargain. It wasn’t that she hadn’t before but in terms of writing, when it came to putting her work out into the world for consumption with her name attached, she turned into something of a businesswoman, controlling her creative vision. The discouraging rather was other things. It partly had to do with being a woman because for every single woman there was about twenty men that could be named. There was simply a difference in emphasis and attention, so she believed, but partly it was her fault that she played into it: focusing more on her fake persona and male pseudonym over her own a lot of the time. Horribly, she enjoyed the interest Landicus gathered.

“It wasn’t hard because it was something that I wanted to do,” Valeria explained, and her drive was what made taking the plunge easier. Granted, she was not new to publishing her writing at the point either, just the name ‘Valeria Flacca’ was. She couldn’t exactly explain her entire experience to a young girl that she had gone behind her father’s back to essentially publish what was purple prose parodies of pornography. No matter how proud of that she was. “I was married by that point and pregnant with my first daughter. When you have nothing better to do than lie around in bed, it also makes it easier to simply not care anymore, though I’m not recommending it,” she grinned. “But it does have it challenges. There are many who expect or want you to quietly sit aside and leave the performance and participation to one’s husband. Even with myself, I’m an exception in some literary circles, excluded from others.” She shrugged; it gave her more for her to satire through Landicus. “I take it then, you’ve been thinking about it at least? If you ever need another pair of eyes or guidance, I would be happy to provide it.” It was hard for Valeria to say ‘no’ to the possibility.
 

@Chevi

Gaia Lupa.

34 | 29 September 40 CE | Plebeian | Midwife and Helper at Elysium | Bisexual | Wanted-ish | Bella Dayne

Personality.

When he was alive, Gaia’s father had been a crook, while her mother was a belittled sex-worker, and their first son domineering with an inferiority complex, and the second sadistic. Gaia had arrived in the family approximately eleven years as a part of her father’s second marriage, being wanted as an extra set of hands in a household that couldn’t afford its own slaves. She and her mother were a close pair but as the only daughter, she was often teased and harassed by her brothers that she would follow her mother’s footsteps, which Gaia stills carries around with her. Her brothers had bullied her over the years into keeping her head down, while her father turned a blind eye. Out of a case of ‘learned helplessness’, Gaia adjusted by being a pushover in their company, complicit to their schemes, and enduring their rough-handling or berating.

In her brother’s conniving, Gaia has often been used as an unwilling accomplice or as a pawn. Inwardly, she resents herself for being weak and afraid of her brother, even though she had braved for long as she had due to resilience. Because of Titus, she has grown to be cautious and sceptical of others but also slowly learned to ‘fight fire with fire’, as in to become dishonest with him herself, though she hates taking on his traits. Out of a sense of pride or at least to save face, she tries to portray the opposite in the public eye: that everything is well and that she is happy. Without her brother, Gaia can be just as shrewd as he is, though he likely doesn’t believe it. She also has a nurturing and nursing personality, which partly explains her gravitation towards midwifery. 

Although she is more commonly found helping him in the day-to-day domestic running of the Elysium, since becoming a mother she fell into midwifery out of happenstance. Midwifery can be ever-changing and difficult work, but Gaia finds it rewarding, mentally and emotionally. She enjoys being with other mothers and with children. She knew she wanted to be a mother very early in her life but after one difficult pregnancy and a few subsequent miscarriages, she feels the possibility of any more children is unlikely. Because of that, she is also close to her son who is the most important person in her life.

Appearance

Gaia is of a medium height and olive-skinned with tight wavy brown hair and large brown doe eyes, often accentuated with makeup. She is better described as curvy and pear-shaped, typically dressed in swathing, flowing gowns of lighter colours, and often moves with a soft and mannered demeanour that contrasts with her common origins, but only because she carries herself in the way of someone who is consciously and cautiously of their impression. 

Family

Father: Gaius Lupus, deceased.

Mother: Vesuvia Epolonia (of Pompeii), deceased.

Siblings:

• Titus Aspanius Lupus, half-brother.
• Gnaeus Aspanius Lupus, half-brother and deceased.

Spouse: N/A.

Children: Spurius Gaius Lupus, son.

Extended family:

• Maternal relatives in Pompeii.

Other:

• N/A.

History

Gaia’s father was a questionable character who smuggled to avoid import and export taxes and was often away for lengths of time throughout her childhood. Although his presence made very little difference. He had already had two sons prior to his second wife, both of which were at the cusp of adolescence when Gaia had been born, and who were permitted by their father to behave according to his belief that ‘boys will be boys’. Gaia was hardly old enough to understand it, but she had been made witness to their whoring, drinking, and whatever behaviour they might’ve brought home with them without much care for the hour of the day or for her youth. It had been made very clear that they ruled the home however they liked, while their father looked the other way, especially where his aggressive son was involved. Neither son respected Gaia’s mother who had been a free-born woman, originally from Pompeii, that had worked as a self-employed sex-worker to meet ends and continued to work as such whenever her husband was away or where money was tight. Their general disregard extended to her daughter who they treated like a servant or harassed to satiate their boredom.

When Titus had left, it had both improved and worsened at the same time. There was one less of them and the rowdiness lessened but without an older brother to stop him, Gnaeus was unrestrained from broadening his cruelty from animals to his step-mother and younger half-sister. His aggression and sadism had already been known to them previously, he had displayed several behaviours over the years that were red flags for a growing problem. As brothers who were often together, Titus had been aware and subjected to it and given mother and daughter were often disparaged, they were easy victims. In contrast, Gaia’s father brushed off the warnings, either because he was aware and unwilling to intervene or he was oblivious as his attention was selective. For roughly five years, Gaia and her mother weathered Gnaeus’s behaviour until his murder when Gaia had been aged eleven. Often together, Gaia had been aware that it had been orchestrated by her mother with a customer and lover of hers. Her brother’s death had been upsetting but not because Gaia had witnessed his death but because of how pitiful he seemed at the end of his life, given his arrogance and reign of terror.

Not long after Gnaeus’s passing, Titus returned home and it was a credit to his risk-taking business ventures that he had brought wealth into the family, changing their lives. Although it strangely did not impress their father whose character had changed after Gnaeus’s death and it took perhaps two years before he died, leaving Gaia and her mother under Titus. Quickly, there was tension and a quiet power struggle between Titus and her mother, who did sleep together at least once, perhaps more than once. Gaia’s mother was worried of becoming irrelevant, of the situation becoming like it had under Gnaeus, and of Titus being around her daughter; while Titus wanted to get rid of his step-mother who he imagined as dead-weight and who blocked him from doing everything he pleased. Around a year or so after Titus became the head of the family, Gaia became pregnant, the father having been someone outside of the home. Gaia gave birth to a son who Titus had claimed to rear. Being as young as she was, the birth had been difficult, where Gaia has since realised her difficulty or even potential impossibility of becoming pregnant again.

For a brief period, Titus married but it didn’t last which was not necessarily a surprise, given that it was Titus. Gaia had been happy when he had his wife, when there had been another woman around the home other than herself and her mother. After the divorce, it returned to the two other women until her mother died from an unknown illness, which had been present for a few months before it worsened, and it became clear that she would inevitably die. Compared to her father’s death which had felt more like a matter of fact, Gaia was upset by her mother’s death given how close they were throughout her life. It also didn’t help that she had the realisation that when her mother went, it would leave her alone with her brother, who was still her brother but he had never been pleasant company and the buffer between her and him was now gone. When he purchased the Elysium, Gaia’s relation to Titus had him assume her support, so she fulfilled the role of assisting him in all the domestic or feminine matters, but it was a love-hate endeavour. The Elysium was essentially a discount store which would attract all kinds of people, including the strangest characters. Being a plebeian in Rome, Gaia had to be thick-skinned but some of the visitors and especially her brother left her taking up more midwife work among the common women. 

Joaquin | GMT+0 | PM or Joaquin#3689

@Gothic

Valeria almost snorted into her wine at the mention of ‘polite company’, given that everyone there hid behind a veil of normality, including herself. “Oh, no, no, we wouldn’t want to get anyone’s subligacula in a knot,” Valeria said with another one of her laughs, doubting that anyone would have much interest in what she had to say but it was only because she knew she was doubted in return. In some ways, the manner of thinking among the elite matched the animal kingdom and Valeria didn’t care herself like the chief baboon to the waterhole. She never underestimated the decadence of Rome, Landicus was purposely an over-the-top exaggeration and for as much as he was met with distaste and criticism, which interestingly contradicted the recognition of his name, Landicus was still their mirror. From her brother-in-law and his wife to Porcus and his porci lovers, everyone had something, it seemed.

“Ah,” Valeria answered in a ‘that makes sense’ manner. The musician’s suggestion that she could employ her in either capacity sent Valeria into an amused state, she couldn’t help but grin and she would have been sure to tell Titus about the proposition, if she didn’t consider the look he might give to rival her father’s.

A young, beautiful woman in the performance arts on display at a party, it hadn’t entirely escaped her, but it was a fact of life that went without saying. Still, even if the other woman hadn’t been employed from the brothel, there would be a man somewhere tonight that would want to pay her a sum for her time after seeing her. A career in music rarely paid on its own, after all, unless you were of the lucky few. The information did give her an idea. “All the more reason to find the hosts and enquire after the pretty musician. ‘Where did you find her? I simply must know.’ Which one was it, Decius? Fabia?” she asked like she was at the horse races. “My bet is Decius. His eyes don’t ever rise above here.” Her hand created a line at her neck. Not that she had much for her to stare at to begin with, but his efforts never went unnoticed. It would be entertaining to watch either of them squirm. Pretend as they may like many others but people clearly frequented and brought business to establishments like the Domus Venus.

@Sara

Hector smiled in return and being very appreciative of the suggestion, expressed it with a: “I can’t describe how happy that would make me. You are incredibly kind.” He often said that of and to Tertius but felt the man was deserving of the claim and he knew that he was lucky to be in the position that he was. Of course, he had seen him when displeased but being a parrot in a human suit, Hector felt without fail that his master’s displeasure was justified.

As Tertius kissed back, Hector almost impatiently discarded his own cup as well, moving it out of the way so that he could put his hands onto his master. He often saw his Tertius’s body in various states and while Hector felt attraction to the combination of older age and masculinity, it wasn’t always sexual but in the current situation, his nudity only served to send his dirty twenty-some year-old mind places. Tertius could so much as breath a single molecule of air and Hector would’ve managed to find a way to have a boner about it. He breathed in when they separated. “Oh, I could tell you,” Hector said and 99% of it had to do with Tertius, sharing a smile that was playful before biting his lower lip in suggestion. “I could tell you or I could show you.”

@Atrice

Hector smiled as Tertius did but only partly because his instinct was to return Tertius’s happiness. Much of his own happiness was because he had been given what was the official go-ahead to ‘keep an eye’ on the other two. Even though, ‘keep an eye’ was more synonymous with words like snoop, spy, eavesdrop, or meddle than it was with attentive observation and that had been predetermined as it was. Hector would have done it even without Tertius’s blessing because ultimately, as he saw it, he was being cheated.

“Of course, it is never any trouble,” Hector assured Tertius pleasantly with a wide smile and a nod. There was no lie. He wanted his master to place his approval and trust in him and he felt fulfilled knowing that he did. And it seemed that he did when he brought up his promise, which was at least one thing amid everything else that Hector looked forward to, and asked after what he wanted. “Well, there is one thing,” Hector said, brushing under his jaw as if he were contemplating, even though he had a good idea of what he wanted. He liked to play humble at times. “I do find myself parched in the night and it would be wonderful to quench my thirst with some wine.” Hector could drink like a sea sponge, but the gods knew he would need a drink at his disposal.

As he spoke, there had been a slam. He might’ve shrugged it away as a result of the other slaves arranging the new room, but it didn’t sound incidental. Rather, it seemed purposeful due to the way it resounded, but he only swung lightly and inclined his head towards the doorway to acknowledge it in his face when he sensed Tertius had heard it too. 
 

@Atrice @Sara @Sharpie

Hector felt encouraged at least that Helios seemed to believe that his ideas were of good quality but whether they were or not, Hector had already made up his mind, that he was sow enough trouble for Charis, making living as difficult as possible for her. “And what would that favour be?” Hector asked immediately at the other’s assertion that his help wouldn’t be free, taking another bit of his wine. Naturally, Helios would want a favour. It wasn’t a surprise, Helios lived in a world where he had to be savvy and this was no different. He couldn’t give without taking as well. Hector understood it, though he couldn’t identify entirely. In some ways, they were like the house cat meeting the street cat. “I’ll see what I can do once I know what it is.” Helios was like an unlikely ally, an amiable position to be in with Hector who had no friends beyond his master. If it had been Tertius, Hector would have agreed without any knowledge but that spoke of his faith in him. 

“I’m not sure how nice I could play with Charis, Helios,” Hector admitted with a sigh, glancing briefly away from the table as if he were combing through whoever else was there. “It would break me if I did.” The idea of befriending the woman who happily shared the bed of his lover left a sour taste in his mouth and his face wrinkled at the thought, even if the reality was it was ultimately Tertius who decided who spent time in his bed, not Charis. Hector simply did not want to see that, not when he had known Tertius for much longer and felt everything from love, trust, and admiration for the man. No, it was impossible, and while he wanted to weigh the options, he leaned in towards the option of having someone else watch her outside the home. 
 

@Atrice

“Nothing like me?” Valeria repeated with a laugh, namely because the young woman’s choice of words came across as endearing. It had also been humble and polite, the latter which Valeria hadn’t expected truthfully but still riding the high from the reading and typical Valeria, excited by the company, it hadn’t occurred to her that the girl might not have anticipated being addressed at all. Valeria had been her age once and likely would have felt and said the exact same, even though she had the clown of her group. She had a library of writing that she had created as a young girl, but she had never called herself a ‘writer’ where she felt it was more appropriate as an earned title, similar to how a man of the military might achieve the designation of ‘commander’. In a way, that was true, but it was also such a writer’s train of thought to focus on the meaning of words.

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” she smiled, intentionally giving subtle encouragement where she hadn’t exactly gotten the same at that age. Her brother, who she lovingly called ‘Porcus’, did skim some works and gave his… lovely insight but his interest, if it could be referred to as such, hardly counted. “It’s like they say: if you write, you’re a writer, if you choose to be one. Besides, I’ve always been of the opinion that each have their own merit and brings something individual to the table.” Valeria had plenty opinions when it came to writing, which she did prattle on to her husband but like a lot of artists, the kind that got strangely academic and analytic about the arts while equally finding entertainment felt more quenched when they could speak with someone that understood the language. “Do you ever share it or perhaps, do you intend to publish one day? Not that you must. It’s just that I remember, I always wanted to put my writing out there. I wish I had sooner.” 

@Chevi

Valeria smiled at the ‘I give you anything’, if only because in her mind, it came across like something that had sprouted out of a scene from Landicus, involving an unsuspecting girl on the verge of an oncoming night of debauchery. Valeria bit her tongue, it wasn’t her intention to pollute the slave’s mind with her imagination. The most she wanted from Nymphias was that she did her job as Titus had instructed and secondly, her hair. It was exotic, to her, it was fair with light waves and much different from her own hair, which was dark brown, straight, and lacklustre, perhaps the latter was a consequence of curling her hair to achieve same effect as what her slave naturally had. But for Nymphias, Valeria didn’t intend to make her part with her hair so soon, she wanted her slave to look good as she like many of the others reflected the household. As mulled over Nymphias’s hair, she felt a bite of inspiration: Landicus’s perverted son would steal the hair of virgins as they slept. 

“I need your brain because I need someone to bounce my ideas off and you just happened to be there,” Valeria explained. Normally, it might have been her personal servant who had been with Valeria for long enough that she was essentially a soundboard. It was her, in fact, that had become almost like a liaison in a chain of liaisons for Landicus and publishers, which partly helped with the fact that no one had ever seen Landicus, despite apparent sightings here and there. Valeria rummaged through the papers that she had haphazardly spread around her person like a conspiracy theorist in the middle of detective work. “What are your favourite type of stories?” She hoped the girl would understand because otherwise she might have to abandon the idea.
 

@Beauty

Valeria had been in the middle of preparing makeups for her domina when she had been informed by her that she was needed in the atrium. She carefully and quickly placed everything away and scurried out, where her mistress was, placing her hands at her front and her head down in submission. The matter seemed pressing, the manner in which the other woman had stood from the beginning made it seem so until finally she spoke. She was bored, bored – Valeria’s face expression seemed blank, perhaps a little dumbfounded but inwardly, she would have strangled the young woman with the same ornaments she had placed in her hair that morning.

As they were directed to follow, she did and not before tossing the other slave a look that was mixed between confused and exasperated. Their mistress liked to prattle on to which Valeria had thought that it might’ve been better if she took up reading to occupy her time, not that Valeria could read or write herself. Brushing the peach fuzz on her head, where her hair had been taken and used by the domina as a wig, Valeria kneeled into the floor to begin pressing into the woman’s small feet. She wasn’t going to touch the fruits when she was busy touching feet.

“No, we would never run away, never. Sometimes the streets get very crowded and coming home takes longer,” she said, assuming the woman’s ‘boredom’ was just an act to witch hunt. She also wondered if Nymphias had asked about running away because Valeria had purposely taken longer routes when leaving and returning to the home. “And yes, we have heard of the Elysium, we have it very lucky here,” Valeria said, certain her fingers were going to smell like Nymphias’s toes. 
 

@Liv @Beauty

“Ooooh, would you?” Valeria elongated jokingly in a voice that was slightly higher than its usual pitch, as if she were a young ingénue like Nymphias losing the strength of her knees, while she cocked her head to one side as she regarded Titus from the opposite side of the recline. She always had to be the clown but Titus’s willingness to lend a hand with the shadow of her father’s illness over her head was only a small part of why she enjoyed having him back in Rome with her rather separated by borders and stretches of far-off lands, which were only names on a map for her, save the ones leading into Dacia. It had been difficult being a mother juggling three young children, even though naturally that was her given role, and while she’d always been given help, it wasn’t the same having the other part of the unit there. And here he was looking for physicians for phlegmatic old men and tickling her feet. She considered herself lucky, she could have been married to a man who was essentially her father in everything but name and life would have likely played out very differently. 

“Not fair, Titus,” Valeria had given in answer when he caught her foot, which was immediately bad news, and she tried to pull her leg back, though her disadvantage was in her sitting position. In the beginning, she put on a brief mock rendition of Publius (the elder)’s stony, unamused face expression, as a part of the challenge, though it didn’t take very long for it to crack given Valeria had always been quick to laughter. “Titus!” she said louder, almost scolding, and had a look on her face that bordered astonished, even if she was laughing a little too much. It did give inspiration for one of Landicus’s forty or so children, one of whom who was described suspiciously similarly to Titus in appearance, and she realised she hadn’t written about a sexually depraved old man’s son and his foot fetish yet. 

She couldn’t help but carry on the humour with her expression as she recognised Titus’s change in expression over their slave, which had been a flippant comment of hers, but it seemed to have hit a note. But she didn’t dwell on it so not to dampen the mood. In her mind, there was always scandal hiding somewhere in Rome.

“Well, if you count Cūlus Maximus, yes,” Valeria said with a knowing grin, but certainly when it came to shitty (literally, shitty) entertainment, she was indeed the master, or so she felt, when compared to Pustula who was a newcomer to the scene, although his presence was unintentional. Someone who likely prided their writing for its “grit” and subject matter but ultimately fell flat and landed into comedy. Part of the reason why Valeria had even considered it was the synopsis featuring an ex-military man and purchasing it, she had considered that it might be of interest to Titus, given her background. Although, it was very likely he would find plenty holes to pick out but that was some of the fun. “Let me go back a bit…” Valeria said, wrestling with the scroll to have it return to an earlier scene. 

She cleared her throat. “Tullus and the brothel guard wrestled each other amid the swathes of squealing whores, who curled against the walls or ran with their arms bent before their breasts from the room. As they fought, they overturned table after table of wine, smashing jugs and cups into the floor, attracting the attention of the rest of the building. Two more bulky guards came rushing through the door, armed with meaty fists ready to punch Tullus’s head clean from his shoulders. Tullus smashed the first guard’s head into a table then used his listless body and the surface to raise his own body up into the air so that he could kick both guards in their faces with a ‘hyaaaghhh’, sending them slipping backwards into the wine. Before he knew it, ten more guards appeared. They stared at Tullus, who was hunched like a dangerous animal, covered in wine, and breathing heavily with just the fragment of a broken pot in his hand. The guards looked at each other, nodded, then charged. Like cheese, Tullus cut through them with his spur-of-the-moment weapon. ‘WHERE’S CASSIA?!’” Valeria said in a deepened voice. “He shouted in the process, but none could answer for they were all unconscious. Save for one. Before he could make another man cry out the next morning in agony, he felt himself thrown through the window shutters and tumbled out into the muddy street. This wouldn’t be the end.” Valeria settled back. “What do you think so far? We’re getting to the horse chase. Does any of this sound familiar?”
 

@Liv

Valeria didn’t doubt that both women were keenly aware of the same thing: it was all polite conversation. She couldn’t fault the younger woman for it and as a senator’s daughter, she always had balance between expertly toeing the line and pushing the envelope just enough. “Lovely is a safe way of putting it,” Valeria, as a writer, always clung to words as they were used. “I suppose it is quite pleasant.” She wrung her lower lip as she were reflecting on the idea. “No one has died yet, at least.” Truth be told, if she had done it herself, which was might’ve been such a matron way of thinking, the party would have been different, some of the faces would have been different, in fact. If she didn’t have Titus or common sense, she would have done something like giraffes just because. “You must have exciting stories of other parties.” She looked at the girl in a way that said that she wanted a story. Something for Landicus, perhaps?

“I would consider some here tonight to be friends, of course, but some of the others, well…” Valeria drifted off, making a brief face, a grimace or wince, before she drank some of her wine. She wouldn’t spend any time murmuring about other party-goers to a stranger, especially not while still there, and it would’ve been different if the exchange had been between another of her class as opposed to a musician. What would the girl do? Scamper off, tears in her eyes, pointing her finger, like one half of a pair of fighting children: ‘Valeria said—!’ Still, it was better she kept her mouth mostly shut on the matter. It went without saying that there were a few uppity characters, particularly the men but also a handful of the women, there who needed a dose of reality. Perhaps it was that she was an artist above all else and like many artists, carried colourful worlds inside her mind and then often felt disappointment in how grey world that she lived in was, often questioning some of the others of her class who seemed contented with it.

“I do play and only the harp,” she lied with a smile, even though she played more as she’d simply had the luxury of time as a senator’s daughter. She just didn’t want to be a show-off, which was ironically coming from the woman who had embraced a night of makeup and wig-wearing. “Mostly I play for my children, the younger two. My eldest is beginning to think being around women above a certain age is uncool.” She wasn’t entirely serious. Sulpicia was a good girl and even though she missed the days where she was younger, she loved the kind of companionship that came with someone that was beginning to become themselves. She stopped there, knowing the talk of children was likely boring the other woman, especially when she hated other wives talking about their children and their non-existent talents. “You should come play at one of my parties sometime.”

@Sara

“She’s obviously not well-behaved,” Valeria answered, entertained by the girl’s exhaustion was induced by a four-year-old. Valeriana wasn’t quite her brother Porcus’s level of difficulty, in fact none of her children thankfully were, so Valeria had little to complain about, but Valeriana expertly toed the line a lot. The child seemed to be interpreting the whole affair as a game, including Nymphias’s nudging, which made her squirm and giggle before twisting and running again in another direction. Like a mind-reader, Valeria stepped out from the doorway and grabbed her daughter before pulling her up with an exaggerated groan. “Oof, I felt that,” she said playfully, resting the child onto her side. “Mummy’s spine just shattered into pieces, now she needs more wine to make herself better.” If anything, she was keen to get back to her poetry, especially while words were so fresh in her head, but now that Valeriana was wired up, it would take a few minutes for the energy to die down.

Valeriana began relaying how much faster she was than Nymphias before making some request about being let down so she could demonstrate her outwitting of the slave again to which Valeria gave a “no, no, you’re not going anywhere” and a smile.

“Next time, you ought to pretend like you don’t notice, she’ll get bored that way,” Valeria advised Nymphias. Even if it was likely that Nymphias didn’t understand a word, Valeria tossed in: “Or the leech, you could try the leech.” Children like Valeriana thrived when they felt as if you were their playmate and scuttling after her only gave her the playtime and attention that she wanted. “Come, I need your brain for something,” she added, waving her hand flippantly as she turned back into the chamber with her child in tow. As she settled back into her little creativity corner, she placed Valeriana down and gave her the wax tablet, which she would surely destroy, after washing away Landicus’s profanities. 

@Beauty