Érik

Florus continued to be silent as the man named Tranquillus spoke about citrus and pomegranates, looking at him. Citrus he had experience with. Pomegranates, less so. None whatsoever, actually, but he was a quick learner. And it wasn't difficult, with plants. Every plant needed, in amounts specific to its species, light, water, good soil, and fertilizer. All he needed to know was what pomegranates needed. His hard, pale eyes traveled from the body slave to the Roman, and he gave his new master a short nod.

It was a bit late, this time of year, to plant something and hope for a quick harvest. If Rufus was planning for the next year, it meant he foresaw a future where Florus was still his slave. He didn't know whether it should come as a comfort or be depressing.

'Yes, dominus.'

@Chevi @Liv

Florus nodded in response, though he very much doubted the truth of Attis' words. What could possibly be worse than a lifetime of servitude? A life of slavery, where he wasn't free to do as he pleased, where he'd been swept away to a land that wasn't his own, without having been asked for his opinion? A life where he was considered someone else's property? He had to admit, though, that as far as slaves went, he was still rather blessed. That much, he knew. He could have ended up in the mines. There were probably other slave occupations that were a death sentence. His was a life sentence. The cage was golden, and it was beautiful, but it was still a cage. And he still had a brand on his arm.

'It's appreciated,' he said. 'Gratitude.' He seldom really stopped to talk to any of the other slaves. They all knew one another, and they had their own thing going on. Florus was in his own world, one where the only thing that mattered was plants. And it suited him, really, as he didn't really know what to say to other people, but all the same, if Attis was offering to be a friend, he didn't think he should refuse. It wasn't like he had any of those.

@Sharpie

Florus was generally up with the sun. With no one to check on him, one could have thought he would abuse his privilege, but he never did. He had a responsibility to his gardens. Quite as importantly, too, he came from a family of farmers. Rising early was what he had always done. His body didn't let him sleep later than the sunrise. Of course, it helped that he didn't stay up late. What was he to do, anyway? He was a slave, and he wasn't especially close with any of the other slaves. He generally wasn't having many conversations.

He had started his day already when his steps led him to the path where the Roman was standing, apparently examining something. Rufus called him, and Florus hastened his pace, stopping beside the other man, and looking at what he was shown.

It was a disaster. Several branches had been broken off from the rosebushes, and the earth was covered with leaves and petals. The spectacle was so different from the usually so well manucured plants that anger flashed across Florus' face. Who dared do this to his precious gardens? To his precious roses? His anger was quickly replaced by a knot of fear in the pit of his stomach, and he blanched. Did Rufus hold him responsible for this damage?

'I— Dominus, I... That wasn't me!'

@Liv

Florus' gaze was hard as he stared at a column. He held his hands behind his back and avoided looking at either the Roman or the one he assumed to be his body slave. His feelings would probably have been clear to see if anyone made eye contact, but his general expression remained neutral, as it always did. He had no idea what kind of master Rufus would be. Longinus was fairly decent, especially compared to the slave traders that had captured him and visited violence upon him. Rufus, though, he had no idea. It wasn't easy to rapidly size up a man who would end up having his life in his hand.

'No, dominus,' he replied in his quiet, low voice, the first words he said in his new household.

He followed suite as the Roman led both slaves to the gardens. They needed some loving care, that was plain to see, but they were vast. Florus could already envision the things he would have to do to make them beautiful, or at the very least healthy. He scanned every last detail of his new domain, as though memorizing them, and refrained from commenting on how many insects actually were beneficial, especially in regards to growing food, and he would to well to favour them. He was used to being the wisest in all manners greenery, and he was used to holding his tongue. It didn't bother him anymore not to share his snarky opinions. Not when he knew the possible alternative.

As he looked at the gardens, a small, involuntary smile crept on Florus' face, which he repressed quickly. He could make something good out of this.

@Chevi @Liv

Florus managed to hide his shock at the other man's words with some skill. Attis couldn't be that much older than he was —ten years, maybe? He couldn't imagine serving a master for that long, couldn't imagine being born into slavery, having known nothing else. He couldn't imagine himself serving Rufus, or any master for that long. Couldn't imagine himself being a slave for the rest of his life. He found that the cake tasted sour in his mouth, when it had previously been so sweet.

He didn't comment on it. What could he say, really? That he was sorry Attis' life had been terrible?

'It is different,' he agreed. 'And the weather makes it so I have to adapt everything to Roman conditions, whereas in Britannia, we had actual winters.' The weather in Britannia made sense. Four seasons, each one very different in what it brought. Here, it was always hot, even when all the Romans and all the other slaves were moaning about the cold. Here there wasn't really any snow, and there wasn't really a winter that was synonymous with the death of all things. That last part was the only advantage he could see about being in Rome.

'I prefer not being close to any of them,' he said. The Romans, the other slaves... Florus could just be left in his own world. 'My gardens allow me that.'

@Sharpie

Florus - 4 - yellow - Ejder

@Anna

Florus briefly looked at the other man with surprise. Did Attis not value his life? There had been a point, when he had been captured, where he himself had expressed exactly what he thought about the Romans, and about being enslaved. They had not liked it. The beatings had been so severe that he'd suffered two broken ribs. He'd been lucky that the healing process hadn't been too arduous. Extremely lucky. Had Attis never shared such a fate that he thought he could just do whatever he pleased and not suffer any consequences? It was akin to madness, in a way. Florus wasn't sure Attis was lucky. One day, he would meet a Roman who would crucify him.

'Messing up is one way to put it,' he said lightly. He had some more cake. 'It does.' He was proud of what he'd done. The gardens were lush and beautiful. 'I do come from a family of farmers,' he said. That helped a lot. He knew how plants worked, what they needed, and how to keep them happy.

@Sharpie

Florus raised an eyebrow at Attis' story. Did slaves usually simply get lended out like this? He hadn't been a slave for a very long time, but it seemed to him before he'd met any of his domine, that masters found other ways to punish misbehaving slaves. Generally they involved violence. The Romans were generous in that aspect, at least.

He ate another piece of cake, and looked at the bush beside him. There were bees buzzing about the small yellow flowers. They seemed satisfied.

'Lent,' he repeated, unconvinced still. It just sounded odd to him. At any rate, Attis was lucky not to have been punished further. 'What exactly did you say?'

His thoughts were brought back to his garden when a bee landed on the piece of cake he was holding. Was it too much to wish for that there was a burnt honey cake everyday? Probably.

'Rufus, you mean?' Attis probably wasn't asking for his general opinion on slavery, although Florus did have a lot of feelings about that particular topic.'I have free reign of the gardens,' he said proudly. He was the reason they were beautiful. Well, him, and Rufus' seemingly endless pool of resources.

@Sharpie

Chlorus hadn't known he was going to be traded off to another dominus that morning. Hadn't known, in fact, until the moment Longinus had had him sent over from the gardens, where he was pruning the lemon trees, to his atrium, where another Roman was talking to him, a vast slave behind him. Chlorus had wondered what the fuss was. He hadn't said anything or done anything to warrant punishment, as best he knew, but who could tell, with the Romans? They weren't especially fair, in his eyes. You didn't need to have done anything in particular for one to want to punish you. That's why it was best to keep one's head down at all times. Don't get noticed, and they won't think about you when they're raring for someone to beat. He knew that, now. At any rate, he was fairly certain Longinus hadn't had him sent up to compliment his garden in front of his friend. It didn't seem like something a Roman would do. Even if, as he had been told, the citrus trees had never been so healthy since he had started to take care of them.

And then of course it happened. He was being traded off. Like his work wasn't important. He wasn't being asked for his opinion. Like he didn't matter. He didn't matter, he was coming to realize. Romans didn't care about their slaves, and he was a slave. It was offputting every single time he reached that conclusion.

Chlorus hadn't said much of anything as his new dominus led him to his new domus. It wasn't as though his opinions mattered to the Romans anyway. He stood in the atrium with his back straight, immobile, and looked into the distance as his new master started to talk to a slave he couldn't see. The dominus moved out, but Chlorus didn't bother looking at the other man, and kept his usual neutral expression throughout. He was much too busy being absolutely insulted that he was being renamed. Chlorus had been offending enough, and now Florus? That was not his name! His jaw clenched, but he otherwise remained still. At least he supposed the names were similar enough that he wouldn't take too long to adapt...

@Chevi @Liv

Florus silently weighed his options. Even as Attis introduced himself better, the gardener didn't know how much stock he stored by the body slave. And if anyone saw them, could he be in trouble for fraternizing with a mouthy slave? Navigating the world of slavery wasn't easy, and it was a lot more trouble than Florus cared for. If he could be in his garden and never have to interact with another person for a thousand years, it would be too early.

'I'll have a cake,' he decided, reaching out for one of the two. He broke off a piece and ate it. Yes, burnt. Still tasty, though, and definetely better than slop. The Romans probably ate honey cake everyday.

'What did you do to get sold off?' Maybe it was a risky question, but Florus' curiosity was now piqued.

@Sharpie

Florus looked around, scanning the area for Romans or other slaves, before he decided to sit down next to Attis. He still didn't know what the other man was doing in his new domus, as he hadn't offered an explanation. Surely there was a reason. Slaves didn't just pop up at random in different villas just for the fun of it. Had Longinus pulled the same trick on Attis as he had with Florus? He was a gardener, though, he had his use. What was Attis' talent? He couldn't seem to recall. Then again, he'd never really tried to get close to anyone when he was in Longinus' household. Plants were more interesting than people.

Florus wanted to accept the cake, but he was vaguely suspicious of the other man. How did a slave earn himself a honey cake? And not only the one, two of them? Them being burned was a sensible explanation, and easily verifiable.

'I won't say no,' he replied. 'If you were allowed to take them.' Florus kept his head low at all times. He wasn't keen on getting in trouble, least of all for stealing. He was still guarded around Attis, but the compliment about his gardens, his gardens, made an insuppressible smile appear on his face. A large, genuine one.

'Gratitude,' he said.

Florus had been up early, waiting for the delivery to arrive. They had said something about first light, but apparently the sun didn't rise at the nursery at the same time as it did in the rest of Rome, because it was nearer to noon when they did arrive with the new hydrangeas he was going to be planting. The holes had been dug up as soon as he'd gotten to work, and he'd been eager to start his day.

Of course, after an hour of just standing around and waiting, he'd gotten tired of being idle, and had set out for his daily round of pruning, and harvesting whatever had ripened since the previous day. It was only a few endives and radishes, nothing really to make a meal out of, especially considering they lacked any esthetic appeal, but enough for him to snack on while he continued to wait.

And wait he did. The sun was high in the sky when he received his trees. They were grafted, and looked to be in good shape, but it was probably going to be a disaster that they had arrived when the sun was so hot. Florus wondered if he'd receive the brunt of the punishment if the trees ended up dying and Rufus lost his money. It wasn't his fault, but he didn't put anything past the Romans.

He'd planted the trees without waiting a second longer, and it wasn't until he was finished that he realized he hadn't eaten all day, and walked towards the kitchens, intent on grabbing himself a bowl of whatever slop they were serving today. Florus' journey was interrupted when he heard his slave name spoken, and he spun on his feet.

'It is,' he replied, an eyebrow raised before he recognized the other man. 'I know you,' he stated. 'You're from Longinus' household. Attis.' He didn't know what the other man was doing here, especially sitting down eating cakes, but he couldn't deny cake sounded better than slop.

FLORUS

19 | 22 Augustus 55 | Slave | Gardener | Gay | Wanted | Burak Çelik

Personality.

Florus is a temperamental man with a lot of opinions, but he keeps everything to himself for his own sake. He is angry about his condition, angry that this is his life, angry at the injustice of it all. He learned the hard way that voicing his opinions about how awful the Romans were only earned him beatings and lashings. It didn't take long for him to adapt. He still thinks it, but he doesn't say it. Because he would rather hold his tongue than put himself in danger, he is mostly a silent person, who doesn't really care to mix with others. Florus prefers the company of the plants he works with to that of other people, but he is nonetheless a kind person, who will be polite, if a little closed-off, to every slave in his household. With the Romans, he has artificially polite interactions, or, well, he used to. He's beginning to get used to his condition as a slave, and hate it though he might, as long as he's around plants, he's actually happy.

Florus is a diligent guy, a hard worker. He puts his back and all his soul and heart into the gardens. They are his passion, his life blood. Though he might be reluctant at first to engage with strangers, any conversation regarding plants will expose a completely different side of Florus, showing a man who's fiercely passionate, loves what he does, and cares very, very deeply about life.

Appearance

Florus is of average height and build, although his hard work as a gardener is beginning to show in his muscle mass. His skin is tan from spending every waking moment out in the sun, and is a bit more weathered for it. He has pale brown hair, and clear blue eyes. His lips are full, and his jawline is sharp. He doesn't cut quite as sharp a figure as he could if he spent more time around people than he does with plants. Indeed, he seemed not to be noticed by most, until he came to the Sulpicius Rufus household. Of course, that could be because he is a man, now, rather than a boy. For the most part he is indifferent to the attention. He has other things to worry about. He bears the brand of his capture on his inner right forearm, an unsightly reminder of how he came to be in servitude.

Family

Father: Vocorix

Mother: Eppacta

Siblings: A sister, Netelia, and a brother, Balorix. Both older.

Spouse: None

Children: None

Extended family: Well, they're probably dead, now, thanks to the Romans.

Other: None

History

Child: Samorix was born in Brittania in the year 55 to a family of farmers in a small village belonging to the Silure tribe. From a very young age, life was arduous, and required hard work. It was all hands on deck in the fields, and that was before the Romans came. When the Romans came, all the men were called upon to defend their land. Vocorix was often absent, and it fell to the rest of the family to tend to the fields. Samorix learned a lot, and found peace with nature, peace he didn't quite find when he was around other people, as it was easy for him to find conflict with others.

Teenager: Vocorix died in a battle against the Romans when Samorix was still very young. After that, the family leadership fell to his mother, Eppacta, and his older brother, Balorix. It was even harder with one less family member, but soon that hardly even mattered, as the Roman attacks increased in frequency. Shortly thereafter, all boys strong enough to wield a weapon were called to war. Samorix was twelve when he participated in his first. He didn't actually do much fighting at all, but he didn't have much of a choice. Luckily for him, Balorix had other plans for his brother. To keep his family fed, he mainly stayed home in the fields. Balorix was the one fighting. But when the twenty year old died, it was up to Samorix.

He was captured in his first battle after that. It was in 72. Samorix was barely seventeen. He fell in the hands of the Roman legions, and in the beginning was outspoken about the horrible conditions they were kept in. He didn't do well as a caged animal, and was raring for a fight. He found one, though it was unevenly matched. Quickly he learned that he needed to shut up if he were to stay alive. He was branded, asked about his profession, and eventually given as wartime loot to some sort of Roman man called Longinus, as a gardener.

He wasn't treated badly by Longinus, but even the beautiful gardens he discovered and tended to upon arriving in Rome were not enough to soothe his anger and bitterness about his condition. He was like a pacing lion, angry and biding its time. He kept to himself and didn't really grow close to any of the other household slaves, despite many of them also being from Brittania. Just when he was starting to get used to things, Longinus traded him off to some other Roman.

Adult: Titus Sulpicius Rufus let him have free run of the gardens. Of course, he wasn't exactly keen on having a master, still, but at least there he was beginning to heal. He had the opportunity to make something truly beautiful, something meaningful. This would be his reason to keep on going, even if life was meaningless. And maybe he could start connecting with other people. He hasn't been so good at it so far, but who knows? Florus is barely an adult, now, and he has the world, or, well, the very limited world of a slave, ahead of him.

Ejder | GMT -5 | SuperBambi#8552

God, I wish there was a template for this. I am super awkward, so you'll just have to deal with that. XD

Name: Ejder (I respond to pretty much anything, including E and hey you)

Date of birth: 29.04.1990 (I know, I'm turning 30 this year, can't believe it either...)

Pronouns: He/him

Location: EST (GMT-5)

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Occupation: When there is no pandemic, I am a student of horticulture/agriculture at an agriculture college.

Hobbies: Reading, writing, listening to music, going to the movies, Netflix, biking, and y'know, just stuff. Oh, also gardening and plants. And languages.

Favourite ice cream flavour: Vanilla

Favourite pizza topping: Onion and bacon is where it's at. (I'm a pretty bad vegetarian...)

Favourite animals: Cats, frogs, sloths, kakapos, and bumblebees.

Favourite plant: Saintpaulia ionantha, the African violet. Also hibiscus.

Favourite colour: Yellow. Also red. And black. With an honourable mention for blue, green, and orange. Colours are great.

Spoken languages: French, English, German, Spanish

Favourite song: That changes all the time, but consistently I love Heroes, by David Bowie.

Favourite movie: The Lord of the Rings trilogy

Favourite series: Plenty of stuff! Give me a good, old-timey detective series and I'm a happy camper.

Crush of the moment: Kontra K

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Preferred thread genres: Anything interesting. Lately I reaaaaally want to do romance, though. Fluff or drama, either way.

Post length: Usually pretty short posts. I don't typically err on the side of description, but sometimes I do get carried away.

Post frequency: Honestly I'm usually on every day, but my posting frequency will vary according to the research I have to do.

Thread length: Whatever makes a story.

Exceptions: I'm open for mostly anything, but I will not take part in threads dealing with spousal, sexual, animal, or child abuse.