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  1. March 77AD It was three months since Jason's master had moved to the villa situated within the Gardens of Sallust. Three months since Jason had really had much contact with any of the Palace slaves. It was a bit of a strange feeling, coming back to a place that had been home... Well, no, not 'home' per se, but more... familiar territory, the place where he'd lived, spent his daily life... Tiberius had come to visit his sister, who had stayed in the Domus Augustorum (probably, Jason suspected, because she knew that Tiberius and his friend, being young men, needed their own space. Not that Titus Augustus didn't, but the sprawling Palatine complex was rather bigger than the Villa of Sallust, and that wasn't exactly small). The Palatine complex easily rivalled any of the villages Jason had ever visited before his capture. He wondered if he could make his way to the stables; it had been a little while since he had been there, and he suspected it would be some time before Tiberius needed him. The corridors and courtyards of the Palatine were familiar to him, but he hadn't got far before he saw a familiar blond woman, and changed his plans. The horses would keep, it was equally long since he'd really been able to chat with the woman he had exchanged blood with, his blood sister. "Cinnia!" @Atrice
  2. 72 AD It was her ninth year as a gladiator. Think that she had been in Rome for such a long time and all she'd done was fight. And well, being passed around between wealthy Romans who could afford to bed a gladiatrix, because they thought she was good looking and there was that amount of superiority, when they could make a fierce gladiatrix like her submit to them. But what other option did she have? It wasn't the fighting she minded so much. It was more the rest. But still she fought to stay in shape and today was no different than the other days. She woke up, she got her morning porridge and then out into the training arena to work hard. Apparently today a new set of slaves arrived, slaves to become gladiators. Everyone stopped fighting when they entered the area and she looked them over. Some were young, they wouldn't last for long in the arena. A few weren't so young, they were men and not just boys. There were no women today, no new gladiatrices. She picked up her wooden sword again and continued to spar with her partner for the day. Soon she'd forgotten all the newcomers and suddenly it was evening and time for the evening meal. Some kind of stew with chickpeas and spices. She sat down by one of the long tables in their dining area and there was mostly silence. Until the new gladiators arrived, some seeming uncertain, but they picked up their bowl of stew too. One of them picked the empty seat next to Cynane. He was tall, very tall, and had dark hair and handsome dark brown eyes. Such a pity men were wasted on entertainment like this. Cynane decided to be nice for once, "Greetings... I hope you like the food. Won't get better than this." She said, but was clearly sarcastic, the food wasn't exactly something to brag about, but you got used to it. @Mobius
  3. It's dusk, the air is beginning to cool down from the scorcher of today's weather. Of course, Bretta feels none of it. She's been standing on her feet from dawn until now cooking various fried meats resplendent with whatever cheap vegetables she could sauté for her master's food stall. "Food of Wolves," it was called. At this point, she feels like a grumpy wolf. One more bad move from anyone, and she just might snap her fangs at them. Multiple times, whether from young men and women looking to get a rise out of her or from the most well-meaning of grandmothers, her pointed canines have been brought up as a point of conversation. The taunting used to bother her at first, but she grew desensitized to it after a while. All she has to do to ward off many a harasser is to flash a large toothy smile, one which grew larger when she saw the taken-aback looks on their faces and the way their faces paled slightly. Felt good to be scary. Felt powerful. The Dominus (who cares about those stupid titles, he'll be Lupus to her in her mind always) wanted her to close up shop with another employee. Or, should she say, slave. If she were a freedwoman, she'd have moved on from this joint long ago. But nope, the gods were evidently having fun when they decided the trajectory of her life, because they decided having her move from working in a spacious kitchen to a position as a much-maligned frycook at a street stall was hilarious. Point and laugh, why don't they. She'll build a ladder that reaches to the sky just so she can hit them with the metal edge of her spatula, consequences of divine assault and battery be damned. Food's almost gone, and she'd usually scrape them into a bin. Lupus already left, has long since taken away most of the money for safekeeping. He doesn't expect there to be as many customers, but the other slave can take orders and collect coins fine. Bretta can too. She knows she'll get a pittance for all of her efforts. All of this means she gets to lock up after- the bell dings- After this Juno-damned customer gets his fill and leaves. He takes his sweet time ordering, and by the time Bretta gets his order out, he's asking her if her hair is red everywhere. She does not have the time for this. "Leave, or you're not getting your change back," she says, voice icy. He raises an eyebrow. "Or else what? I'll have you know you're nothing more than a girl-slave. If you dare try it, I'll tell your dominus. And who knows what he'll do to you." The other slave doesn't lift a finger to help her. Typical men. Bretta is ready to slap him silly until she spots a tough-looking woman passing by. Someone strong. Against what she wants, she decides to delay the customer and wait for help to arrive. If he's outnumbered, he'll be wiser with his words. @Atrice
  4. Saturnalia, 76 AD Cynane was waiting just outside the palace and hoped that Tiranês would show up soon, as they had decided. It was, after all, Saturnalia! The one holiday the Romans got right, at least. The one holiday where slaves got to feel like free people and could do (almost) anything they pleased. As long as they’d show up for work the next day. Well there was always the next day. Sometimes she’d thought it was a way to mock the slaves, tell them to go and have fun, but remember, you are still slaves. There’s always tomorrow! But tomorrow was not now. She was unsure of where they were going, but her blood-brother said he had a good idea and she’d happily see what he had in store. And keep him safe on the way. She had tried to dress up, but she still didn’t want to look like someone she wasn’t. So she still wore breeches and a thigh-long tunica, easy to move around in. She’d dropped the leather armor for tonight, but she still wore her braids. Maybe a bit fancier than on a daily basis, since it was Saturnalia. She recalled Tiranês speaking of many smaller braids in the hair, she didn’t know if it was a style the women among his people kept, but she’d tried to recreate it. Casually she leaned against the wall, ignoring the stares of anyone passing by, like she always did. If they glared at her and she did look back, they’d wish they didn’t. She didn’t want their attention. All she wanted was the company of someone she liked, and she didn’t like many people in Rome. And luckily, soon enough it was Tiranês who joined her and she greeted him with a smile, “Finally! Shall we go? And... where are we going?” @Sharpie @Chevi ( @Sara )
  5. It was the month the Romans called October, which mean that the city was cooler than it had been, though it was far from being winter - not that Rome had winters like those Jason remembered from his childhood, that forced his people to move for better pasture and when the steppe was covered in snow that meant they were confined far more to the camp. He was in the garden today, the small garden near his master's quarters. Close enough to be to hand if he was needed, far enough away that he could feel he wasn't on a leash, or at least that the leash wasn't as short and tight as usual. Today, he was repairing a belt. Technically, he didn't have to, but it was something he wanted to do, and it was a skill he had, one among many. He'd had so many skills and things taken away he was not about to hand this to someone else to do when he could do it himself. He looked up after a moment to find that he wasn't alone any more. He had been joined by his master's sister's bodyguard, a tall blonde slave called Cynane, who he hadn't really spoken to very much. He wasn't sure if she was sizing him up or merely watching out of curiosity, and offered a smile. "Good afternoon." @Atrice
  6. All the other slaves had been milling about in chaos before, but now they seemed to be gravitating towards one corridor. For the first time, the invisible defensive barrier of non-recognition seemed to fall away from their eyes and they laid down their arms, marking the dinnertime armistice in the battle to keep the Imperial household running smoothly. Not wanting to be left behind, Antheia swung her legs off her wooden crib and hurried to follow the flock. While her mind was focused on working out what was going on, Antheia's already muddled recollections of the unfamiliar passages of the slave's quarters slipped away: rounding a corner, she clean forgot that this was where she had nearly been decapitated by a pole-arm when Volusa had brought her here earlier that day. The other slaves hung left by force of habit, and Antheia, seeing the gap in the crowd as an opportunity to get ahead in the queue, decided to hang right. If Fate was watching from above, she must have been splitting her sides at the cruel inevitably of her handiwork. Smack! The pole-arm collided with her shoulder, knocking Antheia sideways into a ratty-looking slave who gave her an evil glare. Muttering hasty apologies, Antheia spun to accost - or at least look at (she wasn't really one to reprimand) - whoever was responsible for the rapidly swelling bruise on her arm. The first thing she noticed about the woman was that she was tall, taller than a lot of men she knew. She didn't look Mediterranean, with blonde hair drawn up messily in braids on her head. Her expression was neutral, but her eyes were weapons in themselves, sharpened by being lined with kohl. Antheia realised she was gawping. @Atrice
  7. September, 75AD Evening in Rome. She wasn’t even sure what she was doing out this late, honestly she ought to head home to the palace – but Claudia was probably already sleeping and Volusa lay there too somewhere and the praetorians guarded her door. Cynane wasn’t in a hurry yet. She’d been visiting a bath house and was taking a long way back to the palace. The sun went down as she walked and people came out in the streets. Some had finished the day’s work, others were just beginning. In an open square where a few streets met, a stage had been set up and actors were getting ready to perform some kind of play. Benches had been set up in front of it and Cynane stopped, curious. It was rare she got to see these things. Some wealthy senators squeezed their way past her and sat down on the front rows and Cynane took a seat in one of the back rows, by the end of a bench so she could easily get up and walk away. The play began. A fisherman’s wife was waiting for her husband to come home from the sea, but he didn’t come and what was a lonely woman to do then, when higher ranked men wanted her attention? Cynane rolled her eyes, well, that woman was to kick their crotch and tell them to go find someone else, she thought to herself. But people around her were amused and she thought she better be on her way. That’s when a man came to her side, pushing his way in to set next to her by the end of the bench. He was larger than her. Much larger. Cynane stared at the stage, lifting her chin as she did it, “Well well, a barbarian woman!” The man said, looking at her. She was dressed in her preferred clothes, breeches and a thigh-long tunica, not very feminine at all. The most feminine was probably her long braid down the back. Meanwhile the man... was clearly drunk, “I never had a barbarian before… not one who actually looks like one…” He said with a grin and placed a hand on her thigh. Cynane inhaled a breath, glaring at him, “Get your hand off me!” She bit back, pushing at his hand with hers, but he didn’t stop there. Instead he caught her wrist and held it tight… “Uh she talks! And fights!” He laughed and stood, “I like it…” He said while attempting to drag Cynane with him. Fuck! She tried to jerk her hand away from his, thinking she could probably easily use some kind of attack to get him away, but the square was crowded and she was, after all, just a slave. @Sara
  8. Peregrinus was against her chest, tied to her with a piece of fabric wound over him and around her back, finishing with a knot at her waist. The six month old boy seemed unperturbed by it, and it had the benefit of keeping her hands free - something she sorely needed. In one hand she carried a rough woven sack filled with blankets and cloth for Peregrinus, and in another bag slung over her shoulder she carried a spare tunica for herself, what little food she'd been able to swipe and a wineskin filled with water. She was shrouded in a cloak, but besides that and the bags she carried and her son, that was all she had in the world. She bit back bile at the thought. It was late, or was it early? Somewhere after midnight, either way, but the streets of Rome were full of laughter and merriment of some festival that Charis had never learned the name of. She looked a little out of place; child strapped to her body and lugging her bags, but the city was full of unusual sights and most people paid her little heed. She drew to the appointed spot, at the gate leading out to the via Flaminia. What are you doing. Cynane wasn't here, she should be here by now, shouldn't she? Charis was sure she was already late and her courage was failing her. She shouldn't have done this, she shouldn't even be thinking about it - she was positive that even the thought of escape warranted crucifixion. She felt the bile rise in her throat again and fought the urge to be ill. Hold your nerve. This hadn't been planned for long, only a matter of weeks ago she had been contented enough in her life - Peregrinus was growing, strong and healthy and things with Tertius were a little less awkward and then she had met with Cynane and it had all unravelled. The thought of trying to do this, be here, forever without her friend - who was so determined to leave and forge her way back to Britannia...Charis could have cried - and she was not a cryer by nature! The image of her son, growing up free and happy and healthy in the wilds and forests and fields of her homeland, away from his fathers pervasive, insidious influence, with her - and not just her as a slave, her as a free woman and his mother...it was too much for her to refuse. She had agreed, and now here she stood. But the nagging doubt did not escape her and the longer she waited in silence, alone, the more she wanted to turn on her heel and make haste back to the domus. Where are you Cynane. TAG: @Atrice
  9. 60 AD Cinnia had finished her training for the day early on, so that she could ready for this party. Gone were now the spears, the shields and the swords and the armor. Instead she had been dressed up, which didn’t happen all that often. She’d always been more comfortable in the convenient clothes for battle, rather than the inconvenient dresses they made her wear for occasions like this. But her father, Owen, had told her not long ago that there was a great celebration to attend for everyone who mattered in the Brigantes tribe. And that included her family, for Owen’s brother was the King of the Brigantes. And now it would be made official, that the princess Ysulda – Cinnia's cousin – was to marry one Eppitacos, the new and young King of the Catuvellauni. And so she would be wearing a dress. She had not really met him before, but of course she’d heard about his victories and she was curious to see this young man, who was now suddenly king of one of the other tribes. She wore a light blue dress over her white and light flax shift this afternoon. Around her waist was a leather-belt with a very finely made belt buckle. Her hair had been done up on her head and her sisters had put flowers in her hair, even! Together, the whole family arrived to the celebration of Eppitacos and Ysulda. There was a feast, food to be had and drinks to be had. Cinnia was 16 years old and of course she had attended weddings and celebrations and the festivals that marked the wheel of the year, but this was different. She got the sense that this really mattered. She stood together with her own family, not far from the most important couple tonight, when Ysulda's father declared the betrothal official and the druids would declare it sacred. Together, the two tribes would now stand against their common enemy, Rome. And together, they would defeat Rome and send them back to the hellhole they came from! Afterwards, the proper festivities began and Cinnia suddenly found that her brother and her sisters had drifted from here. And there he was, suddenly, not so far from her. The young king Eppitacos. She looked at him over the edge of her cup of mead, he wasn’t too bad looking at all. Ysulda was lucky, she thought. She was betrothed to a King, who was also known as a warrior and he was good looking. He had it all, didn’t he? Would she ever be so lucky and marry such a man? One could only hope he was nice too. And now he was looking her way. Gods, this was stupid. As if she stood a chance, when he was already claimed by her cousin. @Chris
  10. April, 76 CE “Tst, tst…” Tarbus gave the headstall a shake with his good hand, to get the stallion’s attention. He spoke gruffly to him in Dacian. “Stop being an asshole. You’re not going to get to fuck her so just keep your dick to yourself!” He gave the stallion’s flank a flick with the tip of the lead, making the animal side-step skittishly, its partially released member swinging pendulously as its hooves beat a little tattoo on the stone flags of the yard. On the far side of the stable area, a mare in heat pranced, aware in her own way that she was garnering interest and causing a ruckus. She too might be receptive to some four footed frolicking but that was not going to happen. Typically, mares in heat were not brought to the stables at the circus, just for this very reason. Someone must have screwed up and miscalculated her cycle. Tarbus wished he knew who to thank for this added headache to his day. He chucked the lead strap once more, moving his hand closer to the halter, just in case the amorous racer decided to give him any trouble. The horse leapt a bit, this time towards the slave, but Tarbus stood his ground and muscled the knucklehead, with their shoulders pressed hard against each other, man to beast. “The gods take you! Be still!” Tarbus grumbled sternly, as the groom approached once again, in their combined effort to get the excited animal harnessed and ready to be brought together with the rest of the team. In this the two men were falling behind, and that was never a good thing. Suddenly, the mare nickered, a true ‘come hither’ call. The stallion reared, cowkicked – narrowly missing the groom’s head – and plunged forward, almost knocking Tarbus, cursing, to the ground. But he managed to keep his feet and was running after the horny animal, trying to grab the leather lead that flapped in the air, while those many people in the yard jumped to the left and to the right trying to avoid the fractious creature, who trumpeted his love song to the heavens.
  11. July, 75 AD For how long had she been coming here now? Last time she saw Charis in person was in February, before she attempted to get rid of the child. It had been months now since she last saw her friend and she supposed most people would have given up by now. But not Cynane. She did not give up on her friend, not when she had promised she would be there when Charis needed her. And so here she was, again, standing opposite the home of Tertius Quinctilius Varus, where Charis lived. She hadn’t tried to approach anyone from the house, not since she met Teutus, who had been entirely unhelpful. Such a friend he was! She still hadn’t seen Charis though and she came here every week, on the same day they used to meet and around the same hour. Nothing had changed when it came to that. But there had been no sign of her friend and she didn’t wait as long as she once had. Maybe it was pointless. Maybe she should give up and return to the palace and come back next week… But then, just as she was about to turn away once more, a petite figure left the domus and it was a figure that was easily recognizable – even with the bump she had, she was quite a few months pregnant now, wasn’t she? Cynane felt slightly bad for having almost scolded Charis for wanting to get rid of the child. It wasn’t a child of love, after all. And her friend almost died because she didn’t want it – but now she was having it anyway. She almost felt shy, as she decided to approach her friend. She walked closer, hoping Charis would see her, unless she had forgotten everything. She didn’t seem to notice Cynane, so she approached her and touched her shoulder gently, suddenly feeling almost on the verge of tears and overwhelmed by meeting Charis once more… “Erea…” @Sara
  12. Late September, 74 AD after Road to danger and Consequences Everything was taken care of with the princess. Flavia Juliana had slaves ready to help Claudia and Cynane remained quiet, alert and resilient while Claudia was bathed and her blood-soaked dress removed. She didn't speak unless spoken to. She did not take her eyes off Claudia for one tiny instant. It was while Claudia was under her protection, that she could have been hurt… she could have been worse off than she was! She could have been violated or even killed, although the first would honestly have been worse for the princess than the latter. When you died, you died. Living through the aftermath of the other thing… was not something she wished upon the only Roman she truly cared about. Maybe even loved. Now Claudia had been bathed and dressed in clean clothes and she had been given a room of her own to stay in while they were here. Aia and Decimus were elsewhere, while Decimus was being patched up and had to rest. Cynane followed Claudia, she would not leave her alone right now. Like a shewolf, she would guard her young with her life. She watched how the last of the slaves left the room and finally she and Claudia were alone… to think and to talk, probably. They needed to, after this. Claudia would need it and Cynane would be there for her. But for now, Cynane remained standing near the doorway, so she could check anyone who might want to enter. And she waited for Claudia to say something. Just something. Anything. @Gothic
  13. Atrice

    Lover for Cynane

    Fierce Cynane, well known all over Rome it seems, has a fine life at the palace, serving Claudia Caesaris. And while she has developed some very caring and deep feelings for this beautiful young woman, she is lacking some proper, tender loving care in her life. She has been with Claudia since 72AD, she has been in Rome for 14 years now and in all of this time, she has not felt emotionally close to someone who would kiss her and hold her as a lover. She would never admit she needs it, but she does. By now, she more or less lives a life in celibacy, although it is not entirely by choice. It's just because she is afraid to let people in. Which means I get sent out to look for love for her - or just romance, it may be long-lasting or it may not be, as long as it is something fluffy to make her relax and feel a little bit of hope again. She has been rather angry and gloomy lately And who knows what it will end with anyway? This could either be a completely new char, made to meet Cynane, but it could also be a character who is already there. I like for relationships to develop over time and having a specific character made for this would feel a bit 'forced' and that usually does not work well for me. They could be male or female, she has had most male lovers in the past (or she wouldn't call it lovers, since it was when she was a gladiatrix and forced to bed them). She is leaning more towards having a female lover though, but perhaps the right man too could break through the hard shell she has. She would need someone who would respect her as a Briton and a warrior, who wouldn't try to make her feel submissive or docile and who would make her feel a bit free when she is with them. It could be a slave, a freedman or even someone of higher rank. Know that even if she develops feelings for your character, she will probably also feel conflicted because of her feelings for Claudia. But that just leaves a bit of drama up the road and who does not want that? Let me know either via PM here on message me on Discord, if you have a character to offer for Cynane.
  14. Late March, 75 AD "... we will see each other in two weeks, like usual…" That’s what Charis had said, last time they met. Back when Charis had revealed she was pregnant and she was going to take some herbs that could remove the child. She weas certain she’d be fine, even though Cynane had been quite worried about her friend. And after two weeks of waiting impatiently, Cynane had gone to look for Charis at their usual spot in the gardens. She had also gone to that spot near the house where Charis lived, to wait for her there. But there was no Charis. A week later, she did the same. And a week later. Many weeks passed and there was no sign of her friend and Cynane naturally feared the worst. She asked around at the markets, where she knew Charis usually came, but no one had seen her. She was just… gone. It wasn’t right! Fucking Roman! If only he had not touched Charis, she wouldn’t have gotten pregnant and she would not have taken those herbs… and removed the child and... it went wrong, didn’t it? Charis didn’t survive. Pretty and sweet and fun and caring Charis was gone. Charis, maybe the only person in Rome she dared to reveal herself to. Because of her stupid prick of an owner! A month had passed since she last saw her friend in late February. She had been out, looking for Charis again. And now she ended up here, near the domus where Charis lived. She stood for a long time, watching the house from the nearby spot where they sometimes met and sometimes said their goodbyes. She stared at the house and wished her gaze could set it on fire. She was of course sad that Charis died, but Cynane had learned to change emotions of sadness into those of anger and hatred – it was easier to be angry than sad. And it was really a miracle that the house did not burn down while Cynane looked at it from a distance. She wanted to scream. She wanted to tell Charis’ owner a thing or two about how she felt. No, wait, she’d rather show him. That would be more interesting! Finally she walked up to the house and around to find the slave entrance to the place. And there she knocked on the door. A woman, who must be Rhoda, according to Charis’ description of the woman, opened up and gave Cynane a strange look… “Yes? Who are you?” “I’m a friend of Charis’. I want to see her.” If she was dead, she could not see her of course. But at least then she would know the truth instead of just assuming. She needed to hear someone say it; Charis is dead. That would make it easier, right? Rhoda got a puzzled, but also somewhat sad look on her face and she glanced over her shoulder, then back at Cynane, “You can’t see her. No one can.” She explained and Cynane sighed deeply. “So it is true then. She’s… dead.” Cynane said, the words came easily although they were heavy. She fought the urge to cry in front of a stranger. She would not cry, not here, not in front of this woman… not in public… “She lives.” Rhoda then said, almost in a whisper, and Cynane looked up again, “But you better leave. She’s not coming to see you or anyone anytime soon. It’s best you don’t hope for it.” The older woman added, but that didn’t help. “I see. But I will hope. She would do the same for me. Tell her that I’ll be waiting.” Cynane replied to the woman. “I can’t tell her, I’m not allowed to see her either. Now go!” Rhoda insisted and closed the door. Cynane glared at that door. So Charis was alive - but not allowed out. Was she locked up somewhere? Chained to a wall? Cynane had tried that as a gladiatrix… it wasn’t amusing. At least she lived, though. Cynane finally left with heavy steps and came out in front of the house again, angry and upset, to walk back to the gardens where she could be alone. Meanwhile she let it all build up inside of her again – all the anger. Fucking Romans! She was walking so determinedly, that she didn’t care about what happened and unintentionally (or was it?) her shoulder bumped hard into that of a younger and well-dressed man on his way towards the front entrance to the house. @Sharpie
  15. Late February 75AD Charis paced, glancing up at the sun every few steps and then back to the gate to the gardens she suspected Cynane would walk through into. Getting a message to her friend had been nigh on impossible and as the minutes slipped by, she suspected the little slave she'd begged to deliver a message hadn't been successful, or pocketed the handful of coins she'd managed to scrape together and never sought Cynane in the first place. Charis had seen her friend almost every month since that first day in the Gardens, a combination of meetings pre-arranged and pre-planned, but this was different. They had not been supposed to meet for weeks, but this was urgent and couldn't wait. By March it would be too late. Her message, given my the little girl, had been simple; Gardens of Sallust, midday, urgent. She didn't want to frighten her friend, but she needed to see her. There were few she could turn to now; Rhoda for all her kindness, would spread this news round the house faster than a plague and Teutus was no longer her Teutus - not that he'd be interested in such 'feminine issues' anyway. Besides, Cynane was her friend, her closest friend. She needed her. Anxiety growing she stopped to take a seat on the manicured grass, folding her head in her hands. Today she couldn't enjoy the beauty of the place, nor its visitors. Every few moments the sound of children with their mother or slaves and it felt heartbreaking. She placed her hands over her ears to block out the childish giggling or babies screaming and only when she felt a tap on her shoulder did she look up to see her friend. "You came." She managed. TAG: @Atrice
  16. Atrice

    The Bodyguards

    The whole strange ritual of Lupercalia was over – at least for the noble lady Cynane was serving. And she wasn’t just any noble lady, she was the princess. She was however also a young woman who was very much ready to be married soon, so she had to be present for an event like this. And Cynane was always near her, making sure her mistress wasn’t actually harmed and just enjoyed herself instead. By now though, they had retreated, as there was a private party for high-ranking nobles and of course Claudia was going to attend. And so Cynane was too. As always at such events, she had retreated to rest against a wall, not interrupting the party with her presence, she was just there, watching her mistress from afar. They had arrived early though, and she watched as more and more people entered – some carrying marks from the bloody strips of goatskin. Proof that they too had attended the ritual and the fun afterwards. If you could call that fun – it was strange fun. On the other hand, not stranger than so many other ancient rituals, both here and in Britannia. A slave offered Cynane a drink and she gladly took it and looked up as another group was entering the party. A tall and beautiful noble lady had appeared, with a guard in tow too it seemed. The guard was soon left to fend for himself, not following her around and Cynane tilted her head, watching him. He seemed so out of place here, for some reason. He was definitely no ordinary guard, she decided, but she didn’t know him yet and Cynane was always careful with strangers – especially when they were men. If he looked her way though, she’d raise her cup to him and have a sip, acknowledging his presence. @Sarah
  17. Second week of October, 74 AD It had been weeks since that day Claudia Caesaris decided to go for a ride outside of Rome and they had been attacked by a roaming gang of bandits. And survived, because Cynane was bold enough to throw her knife right into their leader's throat. It had felt good. Then later that day, it felt less good, because she discovered she had not only of course received some bruises and scratches, but a blade had crossed her side in the heat of the fight and she had only noticed after she took care of her mistress. As a former gladiatrix she had long since learned to ignore such, to her, small injuries when there were more important things to focus on. The wound had healed though and Claudia had also recovered well enough to finally mingle with others again. She was so brave, Cynane thought. So brave and strong in her own way and so hard-working! Other women of Claudia's rank might have wanted to isolate themselves, but she didn't do that. She kept on going. Cynane had been extra watchful over her since the attack though, and tonight she was once more escorting her princess to a social event, a party. As usual, Cynane would find a pillar to stand by, where she could see the entire main room and her princess, without interfering with her conversations and her friends. She stood there, silent and resilient, ever alert and watchful. Clad as usual in her brown leather armor, the light blue tunica, breeches, well-strapped sandals and a weapon by her side. Since this was a party, her hair was made up nicely with braids and twists, as she liked it. Volusa had more than once showed her Roman hairstyles, but she never felt they suited her well. Not that looks mattered if you were attacked. Speaking of attacks, there was a different one coming her way. An attack of memories of the past. At first her gaze wandered past him as she scanned the room one more time, but then her eyes returned to him and they widened. She inhaled sharply and felt her heart pound hard in her chest. What in the name of *Aeron was he doing here? She had not often thought of him, but she had also not forgotten him, even if she had truly hoped to never see him again. It was her captor from Britannia! This was the man responsible for her enslavement and for her still being here, today, as a slave. She had not been freed as he talked about. And she never had a chance to escape that would lead to her living afterwards. Eppitacos already knew Cynane could hold a grudge for a long time. In this case, it was no different. She knew it was him. Though it had been more than ten years, age had been as kind to him as to her. When he walked closer to her, although he didn't seem to notice her yet, she found herself breathing through her nostrils in an attempt to stay silent. But she wanted to yell at him. And beat him up. Maybe the other way around. She inhaled another breath and closed her eyes. At least she had better self-control now than then. @Sara *Aeron - goddess of war and slaughter in Celtic mythology
  18. Britannia, September, 62 AD She had survived her 17th summer and was entering her 18th winter. Cinnia knew she was born late in the year, after the feast of Samhain, but before Solstice. She was not 18 yet. And now she didn’t know if she would live to see her 18th summer next year. The battle hadn’t gone well. Or, she heard that it had, just not for her party. The Romans had indeed been defeated, she could see that when they dragged her through the camp towards the tent where they kept captives. But apparently not entirely defeated, or else she’d not be sitting here. It was sad. Humiliating and sad and no fun. Her hands were tied behind her back. Quite hard too, her wrists might be bleeding, she thought. She still wore her armor, consisting of a good leather vest underneath the fine chainmail she’d been given before this battle. She wore breeches, her good boots and of course a tunica underneath it all. Her hair had been made up on her head, with three braids gathered into one thick, but it wasn’t as good looking now. She hadn’t had a chance to wash herself, so there were still dried sprays and cakes of blood and dirt upon her face and everywhere else, really. But she couldn’t even scratch her cheek, with her hands tied. She was also hungry, by the way. Everything was wrong and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. There were other slaves here too, but they looked just as weary as she felt. No one spoke. There weren’t a great lot of captives from the battle, she could count maybe ten, but that was ten more than none. She was the only woman captured. What would they do to the captives? Make an example out of them? Kill them for sports? She heard the Romans did that. They would make slaves kill slaves and they called it fun. A soldier stepped into the tent and looked around. Then his eyes fell on her and he smiled and came over to her. He said something she didn’t understand, so she just blinked and glared at him. That caused him to take her by the arm and haul her up. He looked at her up close and smirked again, “Come…” He said, that part she understood. And then something more. Something with her being wanted, she thought. She knew a little Latin, but not a lot. Gods what would they do to her? She tried to fight it, when he began dragging her out of the tent, she dropped to her knees and made herself heavy. Then he slapped her hard across the face and she was dizzy afterwards, too dizzy to think for a few moments. But it was all he needed. Fuck. Then he took her by the arm again, harder than before, and pushed her out of the tent. Then he lead her towards a much larger one. Here she was brought inside and he said something fast, then he left. Cinnia looked around and blinked, it had been darker in the other tent, but in here, it was light and warm. But what was she here for? @Sara
  19. August, 75 AD It had been a good while since that night she went out to Bacchus’ Cup and had met that Senator Metellus – or Lucius, as she most often thought of him as. In fact, it was more than a year ago and she had forgotten everything about him. Or, not everything, but most things. So much had happened since they met, and yet here she was, still a slave. He had teased about wanting to see her again, but since nothing had happened, it must have been teasing and nothing more. It was all for the best anyway. He was annoying as *Lugh, but also handsome and attractive in his own… Roman way. Cynane usually did not have high thoughts of Roman men and Lucius had not impressed her at first, but apparently, he got under her skin, because she’d thought about him more than once since their odd encounter. She hadn’t expected however that she would ever hear from him again. He was a high and mighty Senator, he might even have a wife and Cynane was nothing but a Briton slave to him. He had his fun with her, he had his jokes on her and that was that. She went back to her life and he went back to his and although she thought about him, she also didn’t think she would ever see him again. Unless maybe at some fancy banquet for the wealthy and noble, and then he probably wouldn’t notice her. But then a messenger showed up, now, more than a year after they met. And apparently, suddenly, there had been some sort of an exchange between Claudia and Lucius and it was arranged, it had been allowed… Cynane had been invited to his home, alone, without her princess or anyone else. A slave, invited to spend time with a Senator. She knew how that looked, but knew that Claudia wouldn’t just rent her out like that. What did he expect though? Did he just want to spend time with her or did he want to bed her? She simply didn't know. What did he want with her? She put on the only actual dress she had – a stunning crimson piece that she almost never wore. Claudia had given it to her early on. She could barely remember when she last wore a dress - they were so inconvenient! Cynane was much better with wearing breeches and a tunica, so she could move and not these difficult skirts that most other women preferred. But she pulled the chiton-like dress (it was held together with clasps over her shoulders) over her head and made her hair up as nicely as she could. She had Volusa help her with the little braids, she didn’t want to look like some Roman woman. She had a light brown palla that went well with the crimson dress, but of course also brought a cloak for the travel to his home. Gods this was so weird, she thought, while she walked through Rome on her own in the late afternoon. She had never been invited to someone’s home like this, she was just a slave, after all – but soon she stood there, outside the fancy looking domus on the Caelian Hill and she inhaled a breath and knocked. A slave let her inside and invited her to wait in the atrium. Cynane looked around quietly, inhaled a breath. She had no idea what to say to him. Or what this night was going to be like. What did he expect? What should she expect? And then she finally heard the footsteps of someone else approaching the otherwise silent atrium of the domus. @Brian *Lugh - a Celtic trickster god
  20. It had been a good long while since she’d last laid her eyes upon Charis. Actually not since that day they went to the park, drinking and talking to Helios of the Domus Venus. She worried about her friend, wondering of course why she hadn’t seen her. She’d gone more than once to the play they had departed before, close to her house but not too close, hoping that Charis would show up. But she didn’t. Hopefully she was alright; hopefully nothing had happened to her. Maybe it was her hard-to-read Dominus who had locked her up for unknown reasons. Or she had behaved in the wrong way and displeased him and he’d killed her. All kinds of thoughts had gone through her mind and she had even considered going to knock on the door to ask for Charis – she just wanted to see her safe. She knew her friend probably wasn’t as fragile as one might think, but on the other hand, she was no warrior like Cynane and she was so delicately beautiful. Again she had a few hours where Claudia wanted to rest and other of the guards had taken over, and Cynane once more discovered that her feet led her to Charis’ home. She rounded the corner and found a place in shadow nearby, where she could watch the house. She probably wouldn’t come. Cynane crossed her arms, feeling a little bit irritated and angry at Charis’ dominus. Although to be fair, he probably didn’t even know about Cynane. She didn’t know if Charis had dared to mention to him that she had friends outside the house. Just as she was about to leave, a person came out from the little alley leading to the servant entrance to the house. And it could only be Charis! Cynane smiled at first, happy to see her, but the it faded, because she was still worried. When Charis came her way, she waved at her, “Charis! Thank the gods, it really is you!” She said in their own tongue, when the other was closer to her, “I was so worried!” @Sara
  21. By the gods Cynane hoped this was the right time! Two weeks ago, she had met a very lovely young woman from Britannia and they had actually gotten along rather well. So well that they wanted to see each other again. And they agreed to meet near her domus, two weeks later. Cynane had been a very good slave to her imperial mistress those weeks, she had not asked for any trips out on her own, but now she did it and it paid off. She was allowed. But at what hour was it she met Charis last time? She believed it was afternoon, because she remembered Claudia having business during the morning hours and she had been resting later in the day, and that’s when Cynane went to the market. She could not ask for an entire day off, but she wanted to see Charis so badly. She didn’t know why, other than that she’d felt bad for the young woman and wanted to be her friend. And maybe that’s all the reason she needed? Anyway, she was here now. Right where they’d left each other, but she had seen where Charis went afterwards so she continued up the hill to the domus. It didn’t look like the biggest place, but it wasn’t small either. She leaned against a wall opposite the domus where Charis lived and worked as a slave and she hoped Charis would actually appear. If she remembered their deal about meeting here and if she actually got the chance to leave. She hoped so. @Sara
  22. Cynane had been in the imperial palace a few years now – and she felt she’d adjusted as well as she could, to being a guard to a princess. She’d learned early on that the princess never actually had her own, personal guard before – and now she didn’t just have any guard, she had a warrior and a former gladiatrix watching over her, whenever she left the palace, whenever she attended a social event or just whenever it was really required. And Cynane found out she was happy to spend time with her young mistress, who was usually very kind towards her, despite of course still treating Cynane as a slave – because that’s what she was. Yet at the same time, from the very beginning, Claudia had proved curious and willing to learn from someone more mature and experienced. Cynane, as her guard, wanted Claudia able to defend herself and she had already on her first day shown Claudia some useful moves. By now, they did not practice as often anymore, as the young princess also had other things to do, but Cynane made sure her mistress didn’t forget. Just in case. Today was a day like any other. Cynane woke and made herself ready for the day. With just her hands feeling her hair, she created three braids starting from her forehead and ending on top of her head. She pulled those three braids into one thick braid and let that fall down her back. Then she put the leather vest on top of the light blue tunica and added whatever else was needed for her outfit. She hadn’t actually had to defend the princess yet, but she had to look her part and she had to be ready. At all times, she would stay alert. After a short visit to the kitchens to break her fast, she moved on towards Claudia’s chambers to find her mistress and find out what was in store for the day. As she approached the right chambers, she saw Claudia’s shy and very loyal body slave, Volusa, coming out from there, “Greetings, Volusa. Is our mistress up yet?” Volusa and Cynane were both among those considered Claudia Caesaris’ personal slaves, and while they didn’t always get many chances to talk, they knew each other at least - maybe not so well, but that's just how it was. Volusa was very young, they didn't have a great deal in common, but here they were, tending the same person. Cynane had before considered if she should also attempt training her a bit. Anyone taking care of the princess should know how to defend her. It would only be right, wouldn't it? @Sharpie
  23. Claudia Caesaris was a sweet and beautiful young woman, who had been through a lot. Cynane had learned that at least, after she’d been here almost two years, working as a guard for the young princess. And while Claudia had probably never had a day of hard work in her life, Cynane still cared about her, for reasons she could not quite grasp. The girl was a princess, after all, and her life could not have been much more different from the life Cynane had. Her childhood was happy, her youth had a lot of fighting in it and then the battle where her party lost and she was taken captive and became a gladiatrix in Rome a year after… but at least she was no longer on the sands, no, she was here in the palace and her life had definitely improved, even if she was still a slave. And even if she still had her opinions about the Romans and their way of life. Today she had little to do, it seemed. Claudia was staying in the palace and she was having some visitors over today. She knew the family, as they sometimes did visit the imperial family and did attend social events here. They were safe, Cynane judged. Once the guests had arrived, Cynane was instructed to stay nearby and alert, as always, but they didn’t want to be interrupted, so she settled down in a nearby more open area of the palace, watching everyone who’d come and go in the direction of her young Domina. There had been another with the visitors though, who apparently also had to give them some privacy after being introduced, so Cynane was soon joined by their servant, or whatever she was. She was dressed somewhat strangely – not as a guard, like Cynane, but she wasn’t dressed entirely feminine either, like most other women. She didn’t have long hair like most women either – even like Cynane – but it wasn’t entirely short either. She was pretty though, she decided, especially quite liking the red hair. She didn’t look very Roman to Cynane. Meanwhile Cynane was in the usual garb for her job, although not the fancy garb she wore for social events and when going out... but she wore her long, blonde hair in three braids collected into one long braid, starting from the top of her head, and she had her light blue tunica and the brown breeches and good sandals on her feet. She also wore her leather vest and had a belt and a blade by her side; she would never go without it. She probably appeared quite fierce compared to most other women in Rome, who were not gladiators. Cynane decided to speak to the woman, who seemed to not be entirely sure of where to go in the great palace, “Salve.” Cynane greeted the redhead, “I’m Cynane, Claudia Caesaris’ guard, in case they didn’t tell you. You are with my Domina’s guests today?” She spoke her Latin very well, but it was impossible to hide the accent of Britannia, because Latin was not her mother tongue. @Chevi
  24. Atrice


    CYNANE 31 | November 44 AD | Slave | Imperial Bodyguard | Bicurious | Wanted | Katheryn Winnick Personality. Cynane protects her young mistress, with her life if she has to... in the beginning, this was of course because she'd been ordered to do so. Cynane does not want to return to the arena as a gladiator though, she enjoys life in the imperial palace and does her best to do her job well. She does not want to kill for sport and become a whore again - so she has her reasons for doing her job well. She does not always talk much, because when she talks, she has a tendency to speak her mind and she is not good at being submissive and inferior... she was never raised to be such a person, after all. She does however appear very formal and strict and she knows a thing or two about discipline - however if you push her far enough, she isn't always able to control her temper. She may be a slave, but she is still also a proud warrior and a proud woman in general. Cynane does of course hope she may one day be freed, but also knows this is not something to strive for. She is a war-captive and she's very much aware of this. She has come to care a little for her orphaned mistress, but this is not something she talks about either. She is, after all, supposed to act like a slave and not like a friend. Cynane does not trust people easily though - it went well before she became a slave, but after that, many events has made her harder than she was before. Rough experiences with men after she became a slave has also made her dislike or mistrust most men and she still dislikes most other Romans except for Claudia. She has never had a steady lover for the same reason - she has a hard shell by now and it's hard to break through it. Appearance Cynane is tall compared to most Roman women, standing almost 170 cm tall. She has long, blonde hair, which is often braided and kept in a hairstyle on top of her head - so that it is not in the way of her work. Her eyes are blue and she has full, light red lips and a slender and trained body, ready to fight whenever possible. Cynane often spends her free time training, so that she is always ready for battle - this is how she was brought up, after all. She dislikes wearing dresses, but prefers breeches, a long tunica and a leather vest to protect her body with. She will also wear armor if she is escorting her mistress away from the imperial home. She likes the color blue and wears it when able - where she comes from, blue is a rare color and it holds a lot of meaning to her. Family Father: Owen (deceased) Mother: Briannah (deceased) Siblings: Meredith (sister, 27), Briannon (sister, 29), Herne (brother, 35) - all unknown whereabouts Spouse: N/A Children: N/A Extended family: Ysulda of the Brigantes/Flavia Isolda (cousin, not played) Other: -- Owner: Claudia Caesaris History Born and raised in Britannia, Cynane – back then known as Cinnia - lived a free life from childhood and until she was 18 years old. During most of her life, she knew there had been war between the British tribes and Rome, which was trying to invade and would eventually succeed. Cinnia’s family was related to the king of her tribe, the Brigantes, and the king made sure his entire family were constantly ready for the Romans. This meant that every child who reached puberty was given training as a warrior – this included the young women and thus also Cinnia. She knew this all her life, of course, and she was more than ready to fight when finally given the chance. Her cousin was Ysulda, who'd eventually attempt becoming queen of their tribe and would also eventually end up in Rome, like Cinnia. None of them knew this when they were young though. Cinnia met Eppitacos when Ysulda and he became betrothed and they got along well. But sadly, Ysulda was set up to become his wife already, so Cinnia forgot about the crush again. Cinnia proved to be a strong and skilled warrior and when her tribe joined battles against the Romans in 62 AD, Cinnia was in the British army. She was optimistic, believing in the strong blood of Britannia to come out on the winning side – but her party was defeated by the Romans and Cinnia was among those taken captive. Her father died in the battle and she does not know whether any of her siblings survived. She later heard that her party was the only losing party in that particular battle and still today holds a grudge towards Eppitacos, since none of the others came to their aid. If they had done so, she might not have become a slave. Since Cinnia was a female and skilled warrior, it was quickly decided she would become a gladiatrix in Rome. She hated being in chains and under Roman rule – she had grown up free and was used to making her own decisions. None of that mattered though. In 63 AD, she was finally brought to a ludus in Rome, renamed Cynane and deemed breakable. Breakable?! Cynane would prove them wrong, she had been raised to be a strong woman and she still was, despite her current state of life. Her lanista and doctore tried hard to break her though, but eventually it was a matter of either killing her by breaking her or sending her into the arena, hoping she'd die there. And at least in the arena, they got something out of her death, so she was sent to the sands – they expected her to die. Of course she didn’t. She fought and she lived and received great glory in the arena. The crowd loved her and her skills and Cynane began to understand she could live this life. At least it was more than being chained constantly. There was one downside to it though – after the fighting, wealthy Romans would want to bed her, and while she was strong in the arena, she was expected to submit to their pleasures. This was how she lost her virginity – and her first time wasn’t all that pleasant. Yet Cynane was not ready to die. And apparently it would work out in the long run, to stay alive. Her life changed again in 72 AD, when a male member of the imperial family noticed her skills - and she was deemed useful for more than the arena and pleasure for coin. Cynane was removed from the ludus by Octavius Flavius Alexander and soon after gifted to his niece, the young imperial lady Claudia Caesaris, to become her personal bodyguard. She has been with Claudia over three years now and has so far proven to be loyal. She is pleased to no longer be a gladiator and enjoys the life of a guard and slave at the court - which she considers more luxurious than when she lived at the ludus with the gladiators. She has even developed protective feelings for the orphaned princess, maybe even other feelings too. There's a good chance, that Claudia is still the only Roman she cares about. She has not forgotten she’s a slave and has not stopped yearning for freedom – she never will – but life could be worse. Atrice | GMT+1 | PM or Discord
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