Érik

Tranquillus repeated his name, his real name, a few times, slowly. He was saying it right. Florus liked how the word rolled off the other man's tongue. It was all he could do not to stare at the body slave. The gardener watched in awe as his teacher wrote out the letters that spelled the name of the person he'd been for all his life. He couldn't help it, and reached out his hand to trace the letters. It was the first time he'd seen his name written down, and his shocked expression was quickly replaced by a radiant smile. Yes, this was him.

'Samorix,' he repeated, the fact that he was seeing it written down bolstering his confidence. 'It means summer king.'

@Chevi

Florus swallowed, suddenly surprised by his own confidence. Did he have enough to follow through? The only people he'd told his name to before were Cinnia, and that was because she was also a Briton, and then to Alexius, but he was fairly certain that was because of the wine. Now, though, he was stone cold sober, and Tranquillus wasn't a Briton. He was going to give him his name, because it was the right thing to do. Because he wanted the body slave to know who he was. Who he really was. Something like a stone settled in the pit of his stomach. Did he dare?

It was a long moment before Florus found the courage in him to tell his name to Tranquillus. Long seconds during which he tried to fish out some confidence out of the older man's warm gaze.

'Samorix,' he said quietly. 'How do you write that?'

@Chevi

Florus was encouraged by Tranquillus' warm smile. The squiggles were letters. That was good to know. And his intuition had been right, which was also good. Maybe sometimes he could get something right, after all. Well, not that, obviously, but something. He watched on as Tranquillus wrote out his slave name on the tablet, sounding out each letter. He could recognize the name when it was written, he'd seen it quite a few times on the wall, though what anyone might have to say about him was beyond the gardener. He'd even tried out his hand at it, etching the name in the rock.

The young man paused briefly after the body slave stopped talking, then reached out his hand to block the tablet.

'That's not my name,' he said gently. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it properly. His real name would be the first thing he'd learn.

@Chevi

Finally, Cinnia appeared, and Florus nodded at her politely, walking to bridge the distance between them. He stopped at a healthy distance, and the shadow of a smile appeared on his face. 'Gratitude for seeing me, Cinnia. I...' Florus cleared his throat. 'I was wondering if your offer still stood? I would like it very much if you could help me learn to defend myself. If you are still willing?'

@Atrice

Florus looked at Alexius in shock. 'I... no!' What kind of offer was that? He regretted tying the towel around his waist, now, because he was going to have to undo it all over again to tie his subligaculum. This was stupid. Sighing in frustration, he walked towards the bench he had left his clothes on, and took the towel off again, doing his best to pretend Alexius was not there. It worked for a moment, enough time for him to tie the loincloth. Grabbing his tunic, he put that on, too.

Now that this was done, he felt more on equal footing to talk to Alexius. It wasn't really fair, was it, when one of them was dressed, and the other stood nude under the first one's gaze? Even dressed, though, he felt naked while Alexius was looking at him. It was a very unsettling feeling. Florus was able to tell, now, why the presence of the other man made him flustered. It wasn't, as he'd initially thought, the steam in the baths, or the vapours of the wine. It was all rather much more simple than that. He now knew the effect attractive men had on him.

Cheeks still rosy, he was able to meet the other man's gaze. 'How have you been, Alexius?' He remembered the man's offer for more wine at an ulterior moment, but felt it rude to ask to be invited for drinks. Still, though, he wouldn't decline.

@Atrice

Trigger warning: mention of assault attempt

July 75

It had been weeks since Florus had met Cinnia out in the markets. Weeks, during which he'd been extremely busy. Busy with the gardens, first and foremost, but then also busy with figuring some very obvious things out. And, then, of course, after the earthquake, there was so much to do, so much to repair in the gardens. Trees to replant, new plants to order, the lack of rain to deal with, and the neverending battle against weeds. Yes, Florus had been very busy.

He had wanted to see the other Briton again, but chance had not favoured him, and for a while he hadn't thought about her offer anymore. Until one evening when he was returning to the villa from the baths, and a hand had violently grabbed his arm from a shadowy alley. Florus had said he wasn't carrying any money, but that hadn't stopped the stranger from pawing at his waist, despite his evident lack of a purse. He'd managed to turn around and shove the stranger away, and had run all the way back to the villa. The altercation had lasted all of ten seconds, but it had been really stressful. What if he hadn't been able to get away? Surely he would have gotten beaten up badly.

Since then, though, Cinnia's offer had come back to the forefront of his thoughts. She'd said there was a chance he could end up in a situation like this, and he almost had. Florus had to take it seriously. And he had to heed her advice.

This was why, on his next free day, he had walked all the way to the imperial palace, and, as Cinnia had said, asked for her by name at the servants' entrance. The gardener stood there waiting, his back straight, hands behind it, feet apart at shoulders' width, immobile.

@Atrice

Florus gulped as Tranquillus invited him in, and entered the room, highly aware of how close they both were as he passed through the threshold. And highly aware that the entire room held the same intoxicating smell as the body slave. How was this a good idea, again? Florus found that he'd latch onto any kind of excuse to spend more time, close time, with Tranquillus, but wasn't this tantamount to self-imposed torture? Why torment himself with something he couldn't have? Wouldn't it be better to just try to move on? Probably, but it was impossible. Wherever the older man was concerned, it seemed the gardener's mind flew out the window.

He sat himself on the chair Tranquillus had pulled up, with his back straight, and feeling like there was no comfortable place to rest his arms. He made eye contact with the older man, but inevitably blushed, and had to look away. Tranquillus really was turning him into an idiot.

'I think I understand the general idea,' he replied. 'The squiggles represent sounds, I think?' He was able to recognize his name, so he didn't think each individual squiggle represented an idea. Sounds seemed the likeliest option. He pulled up his chair closer to the body slave, feeling ridiculous, yet unable to refrain himself from biting his lower lip as the two became closer.

@Chevi

The baths were one of the few good things about Rome. Bathing in the river back in Britannia had been great, but the thermae here... It took bathing to another dimension. It wasn't the best for cooling off after a difficult day -nothing would beat the river then- but he'd never really felt cleaner than after a visit here. And, deny it though he might want, the view was sometimes very good. There'd been no gladiators in today, and also no Tranquillus, but it hadn't been a wasted visit. He'd gotten his weekly massage, and was now clean as a whistle.

He made his way to the changing rooms, less self-conscious about walking around naked when there weren't gladiators or a certain body slave to see him. He was still stark naked when someone called up to him. Startled, he looked up.

'A-Alexius,' Florus stammered, suddenly very busy with tying his towel around his waist. And also suddenly rather red. 'I, yes, very glad to see you.'

@Atrice

Tranquillus opened his door almost immediately, and the butterflies in Florus' stomach were telling him to make up an excuse and run away, but it seemed like his feet had decided to stop listening to him. They stayed rooted firmly in place. Traitors.

'I... Yes. I wanted, that is, if your offer still stands... I was wondering if tonight might be a good time?' Already he was feeling himself flush. 'For reading... and writing,' he quickly added. Just in case Tranquillus had forgotten, and he thought Florus was calling to him at night for other reasons. Stupid. Why would the body slave even think that?

@Chevi

July 75.

In Britannia, the days of summer seemed to stretch into infinity. The sun set late, and the evenings, when they were clear, were surreal. In Rome, the days of summer seemed to stretch into infinity by way of the temperature. Every day was hotter than the next, and there was no limit in sight. The flowers were blooming, and everything was gorgeous, but Florus needed to water things a lot more than he did in the colder months. Still, even if he was being modest, they looked amazing.

He was finished with his labours for the day. The sun had set, and the sky was the deep blue hue of the hour when everything is a silhouette. Tranquillus had offered to teach him how to read and write, and Florus would be an idiot to refuse an offer like that. He might be too stupid to learn, he figured, but at least it was an excuse to spend time with Tranquillus, and that was something he enjoyed.

He'd been told where Tranquillus' room was, and he stood in front of the door, too nervous to actually knock.

'Tranquillus?' He finally called out.

@Chevi

Florus nodded, and felt the butterflies in his stomach fluttering as Tranquillus smiled back.

'Gratitude,' he repeated. 'For everything.' And with another shy smile, the gardener was on his way. There were many things to do.

@Chevi

Florus found Tranquillus to be a pleasant companion as he examined the damage the earthquake had wrought to the gardens. The body slave took notes, didn't complain, and looked at him with his beautiful, kind eyes, that gave the gardener's stomach butterflies. He didn't speak much, but his silence was comforting.

When they had walked around every inch of the garden, and Tranquillus' tablet was full, the young Briton turned back to face the older man. He was calmer, now. It wasn't quite as much the end of the world as he had thought, and Tranquillus being there really had helped.

They were close to one another, but nowhere near as close as they had been only a few hours earlier. Tranquillus smelled nice. And he was beautiful. Allowing himself to clear his thoughts, Florus looked up at the body slave, and gave him a wide smile. 'Gratitude.'

@Chevi

As Tranquillus walked too, Florus' fingers brushed against his forearm. The gardener pulled his arm back to himself. He liked the feeling of the body slave's skin under his fingers. Too much for his own good, obviously. And Tranquillus was too polite to loudly state his discomfort. Honestly, the young Briton needed to work better at his self control. If he didn't, Tranquillus would catch on, and never come back again. And that really wasn't what the gardener wanted. There were only a limited number of reasons why he would need to touch the other man. He really needed to keep his hands to himself. Gods, this was difficult. All Attis' fault, too.

They reached the hydrangeas, and found that, out of the three trees, one had split down the middle, while another seemed to be uprooted. It wasn't such a big tree, and the cost was never that of the pomegranate tree, but they were still new, and they were grafted trees, so their cost was still high.

'It seems like I lost those,' he said disappointedly. 'I planted them this month.'

@Chevi

Florus' eyes widened as Alexius placed his hand on the gardener's. Why was the other man doing that? And why did it feel so... tempting? He looked at his hand, and quickly pulled it away. Though he did not mean to be rude, he was alarmed.

'I, uh, I do want to learn about pleasure.' His cheeks were furiously red by now. Why was he discussing this at all? Wasn't this something he ought to discuss with the woman he was going to one day marry? Right, except he was a slave, so a marriage wasn't in the cards for him. Maybe just a woman he'd meet, then. So far, no such luck. 'Giving... and receiving,' he mumbled. He totally knew what sex was. And he knew it was supposed to be pleasurable. Alexius was giving him a strange look, and Florus suddenly knew that wine was a much stronger drink than he'd anticipated. Who knew where another cup might lead?

As red as he could ever remember being, Florus got up from the seat, and nodded towards Alexius. 'Gra-gratitude for the wine, Alexius. I- I hope you have a pleasant day.' Without further ado, he bolted from the tavern.

@Atrice

'I don't think anything alive should be immaculate,' Florus countered. Perfection was for inert things, like statues. Nature was alive, and a little more chaotic than all that, and that was the way he liked it. The Romans didn't tend to see things that way, though. Rufus generally let the gardener run things the way he saw fit, but a lot of the gardens around here were pristine. They were purely decorative, seen as an element of style rather than something flourishing, in constant motion. Oh, how he loved his gardens.

They both received their skewers, and, pleased, Florus took a bite. It was every bit as delicious as the last time. 'I should probably be going too. I was hoping to find pistachios.'

@Echo

Florus walked the distance between them so as to take a better look at Tranquillus' tablet. Just as he suspected. Sharp-angled squiggles. He could make out neither heads nor tails from them. The important part was that Tranquillus understood them, though. He was so smart. With any luck, some of it would transfer onto him, and he could learn a thing or two.

Looking at the tablet, he was so close to the other man that his scent drowned out that of the roses. Florus loved the roses, but he couldn't deny that they weren't quite as intoxicating as the way Tranquillus smelled. He was in a world of trouble, was he not? He never should have paid Attis any mind. Denial had been easier.

'That's good,' he said brightly, walking towards the rest of the gardens. The rosebushes had been completely squashed by the fallen tree, but he wasn't too worried about them. They were sturdy and hardy little buggers, they could survive just about anything. He reached out his hand to touch Tranquillus' wrist, lightly... just to make sure the other man was following him. 'I don't know how well the hydrangeas survived.'

@Chevi

Florus continued to edge closer to Alexius as the man told him about what he desired, but he remembered himself, and slinked back into his chair, using the drinking of wine as both an excuse and a natural barrier between them. Not that Alexius needed a barrier. Florus did, because the wine made him stupid. The man was talking about his desire to be free, not anything else. There was no reason to think about anything else. He was probably very popular with the ladies, he thought, but there was no reason to think about that. Until, that was, Alexius started to talk about pleasure.

Florus blushed, still looking at his hands for a while, but then looked up at the ex gladiator in defiance. 'I do know what pleasure is, if that's what you mean. Just... not with other people?' Already he was sure he had spoken too much. He drained his cup, cursing the drink and its power to make him say ridiculous things.

@Atrice

Cinnia was kind. It seemed like he really was meeting kind people when he came out to the market. He wouldn't exactly start speaking to more people, not really, but it was good to know that not everyone was out to murder him. At least the slaves weren't. The Romans probably were, but it wasn't like Florus had any cause to address any of them. Fortunately for him, really.

'Do you think I would be allowed to go to the imperial palace?' Where was it, anyway? He'd never been, but now that Cinnia had pointed out his vulnerabilities, he didn't want to make it clear that he was also ignorant on top of it. 'It's Cynane they call you, right?' He didn't want to make the mistake of calling her Cinnia to the guards' faces. Suppose it landed either of them in trouble?

'I look forward to it, Cinnia.' Florus nodded at her politely. 'If you'll excuse me, I really need to buy those lemons now.' Without any more ceremony, the gardener trotted off to the next kiosk.

@Atrice

Florus looked at Tranquillus in surprise. For all the gardener had been looking at the body slave, he hadn't noticed he was carrying any writing implements. He looked down at the man's hands. There they were, of course. Florus had just not been very observant. He'd been distracted, after all.

'Ah, yes, if you would,' he agreed. 'It would help to make things more... official?' The gardener crossed his hands behind his back, making his posture straighter, and started to amble along his wrecked gardens, more confident about it now that he had Tranquillus in tow than before. Things in writing seemed like they had to be taken more seriously. 'Can I see what you wrote?' Florus wasn't able to read just yet, of course, but he was curious to see what it would look like.

@Chevi

'Don't apologize,' Florus said, watching as the vendor seemed to get ready to take the meat off the grill. 'I know nothing about anything except my small village in the Silures tribeland in Britannia, and the gardens I tend to for my dominus in Rome.' There was no chance of him ever knowing what the outside world was about. He'd never traveled, never seen anything outside of the village, and barely anything of Rome at all. But he found he didn't mind. He wouldn't want to travel. All he wanted out of life was the land he took care of, the trees, the plants, the life all around him. The peace and quiet. He had no real curiosity for anywhere else, and he was quite satisfied with that, thank you very much.

Coming from Britannia, though, he didn't think he'd be able to stand hot and arid days every single day. He enjoyed the comparatively sunnier weather, but the heat? He still hadn't completely gotten used to it. At the end of the day, he always needed to wash himself, because he was filthy, sure, but mostly because he was absolutely covered in sweat. It had been easier in Britannia. People just bathed in the river to cool off. There was no such thing here, as far as he knew. The baths weren't really for cooling off. Instead, every morning he prepared himself an amphora of water, which he threw lemon thyme in for the smell, and kept it in the shade. After his day, he washed himself down with it, and could finally relax. That was as close as it came. If it got any hotter, he couldn't possibly deal, could he?

'Britannia is a fine place,' Florus said. He had seen none of it, but he knew it was superior to Rome. Obviously. 'It's not a desert. It's very green, and very wet. It never gets as hot as here.'

@Echo

Florus nodded. Most people weren't well suited for gardening. It was a matter of temperament, he supposed. A lot of people weren't patient. They looked at a tree, and expected fruit within the next few hours. They didn't seem to understand that these things took time. It wasn't just a matter of weeks. It was months, years... He wasn't altogether very patient with other people, or their world, at least internally. But for his gardens? His patience was boundless.

'Judaea?' Florus asked. 'Where is that?' He had never heard of the place, and her explanation was likely not to inform him about much. He had no idea what the world was like. He knew only his village, the places he had worked in Rome, and the endless stretch of lands between them. 'Was it nice there?'

@Echo

Florus tilted his head, expression a little confused as Alexius complimented his hands. He looked down at them. How could the other man tell if his hands were talented? How could hands be talented, even? They did what they had to, whether it was rough or gentle. Whether it was tugging on a particularly tenacious weed, or pinching an old bloom to deadhead it. They were just hands... His were more calloused already than those of the house slaves he had encountered, but that was normal. His work was more physically aggressive than theirs, and he had to wield tools that still gave him the occasional blister. He was still scrutinizing them as Alexius leaned in some more. Florus found he didn't mind. The other man was just trying to sit more comfortably, after all. And he too was leaning in a little more because, well, he didn't exactly know, but apparently it was the done thing, to huddle around the table like so.

'I would be amenable,' Florus replied, the ghost of a smile etching itself on his face. No, he wouldn't mind spending more time with the ex-gladiator at all. There was wine to drink, which he was discovering was very nice, and made him want to be bolder, and then, of course, there was Alexius. Who was a very nice, interesting man. He nodded as he listened to him, scooting himself closer too, little by little. He looked at him, biting his lower lip.

'I wouldn't like being forced to kill other people who had no choice but to be trying to kill me too,' he said. He hadn't liked his experience of war at all. The fighting, the blood, the noise... It was so contrary to the gardener's very essence. But at least he had done it to defend his land and his people. Not so that other people who owned his very life could watch on and call it a sport. Generally he didn't even like fighting. He was just a man who liked peace and quiet, why was it so hard to obtain?

'The pleasure?' Florus repeated. Again, pink tinted his cheeks. 'I wouldn't know about that.' Or, well, not with another person. He drank more wine, to avoid having to say anything about that, but found that his free hand was lingering on the table, and he was still looking at it for any trace of hidden talent. Well, when he thought about it, his hands did have other talents than strictly garden work... But that was none of Alexius' business.

@Atrice

Florus looked over the woman's shoulder. The mutton was coming along nicely, it seemed. Surely the vendor would call them over shortly? It was difficult enough to just be hungry and standing in the direction of the wind while delicious smells wafted his way. It would be cruel to make the wait last much longer, but the gardener knew that was on the mutton, not on the cook.

'It's a name for a gardener,' he replied diplomatically. He didn't especially like it. It wasn't his name, it had been forced upon him. As far as names went, though, he was very conscious that a lot worse could have been bestowed upon him. Being asked if he was from Rome used to spark anger in his eyes. How could anyone mistake him for a Roman? They were the evil ones! Now, though, he had more experience. Barely any emotion flashed through his eyes this time. Emotions like anger at the thought of being associated with Romans was dangerous. 'I'm from Britannia,' he replied. He looked at the shorter woman, not wanting to presume of anything. 'And yourself?'

@Echo

'It will, I'm sure,' Florus replied softly. It would make a difference to him, at least. Somehow he had merged from being entirely annoyed by the man to refusing to do things that were scary without him by his side. What kind of a man was he, if he couldn't take care of his own things? There was bound to be a limit to Tranquillus' patience, too. He needed to be more independent. There needed to be a clear line in his mind. Did he just want to have Tranquillus around, or did he need him? Because the latter was problematic. It was fine to like the guy, surely, but needing him, as a chick needs its mother wasn't healthy. Surely liking someone, loving them, even, couldn't be based on need. It had to be based on... Well, Florus had no idea, but it was clear there was nothing reciprocated about how he felt. Maybe what he needed was to hang around Tranquillus for long enough to grasp that, finally, and move on. Yeah. Probably. What good did it do to dwell on the impossible?

Still, when Tranquillus offered to come look at the other plants with him, the gardener found he simply could not resist. 'If you do not have anything more pressing to do, I would appreciate it.'

@Chevi

Florus only realized he wasn't alone in taking shelter when one of the other household slaves spoke to him, and she startled him. The gardener turned to face her with a surprised look. He'd seen her around often enough, but they hadn't really spoken much. Florus was polite, sure, but he was very guarded, and kept to himself the vast majority of the time. There had only been two people to break him out of his self-imposed mutism. Attis, who had weasled friendship out of him, and then there was Tranquillus... But there were other reasons for that, he had ended up learning. So he hadn't really had much cause to talk to the other household slaves, even if he had been in this villa for months.

Nymphias, this once was called, he remembered. She seemed to know him a lot better than he knew her. His brow furrowed as she spoke. How in the world could she possibly know about his love? She had to be mistaken. No one knew. Except Attis. Maybe Attis had told her? Florus hadn't thought of that, and now he mentally kicked himself. What if Attis had gone and told the entire household how he felt? How else would Nymphias know?

'I don't know what you're talking about,' Florus said cautiously, though his red cheeks betrayed him.

@Beauty