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Found 10 results

  1. May, 77AD It took Lucius a week or two to find a place that would be fit for a meeting with Ovinia again. She had said no hospitia and no brothels (as if he would have ever taken her to one of those...), and after their last encounter, small enclosed spaces were also out of the question. In the end, his work as a vigile led him to the solution. Patrolling with his cohort he discovered there were a few domi around the Esquiline and the Aventine that were locked down; the vigiles checked them for fire hazards and criminals from time to time, but otherwise they stood empty, waiting for buyers or investors. He visited a few of them, until he found one that seemed decent enough, recently closed down as its owner moved to another province on official business, leaving it to his clients to find a buyer for the house. In the meantime, it was empty. Lucius was not sure Ovinia would show up. She always did, but he was never sure. It was always possible she would come to her senses and just say no one day. After all, they had no chance to actually be together. But that did not make him love her any less. So today, he waited for her by the domus, in the hot hours of the early afternoon when everyone in the city seemed to be taking a break to nap. He hoped she would show up. @Sara
  2. After a few years at the ludus, Theo was learning to anticipate his work from the sounds he heard coming from the arena. A roar always mean something dramatic; depending on the tone, it could be a kill, or a win, or something entirely unexpected. Death rarely horrified the spectators. But gruesome moments did. Theo could tell this one had been a bad one, judging from the collective gasp from the audience. He wondered the gladiator lived, and whether he belonged to the Ludus Magnus. Not leaving anything to chance, he got ready for some hard work. "THEODORUS!" the slave sent ahead stood in the door, panting. "You better get ready for this..." He was ready. The windows and door were open, with a lot of light streaming in to the operating table. He had his tools, bandages, he had a lot of water and towels, unwatered wine and poppy milk. The patient arrived a few moments later, carried by two other slaves on a stretcher. Blood was dripping behind them along the way. @Mobius
  3. February, 77AD It was nice to have something else to think about. Something that had nothing to do with crazy and insane killers in Rome. Something that had nothing to do with innocent people being attacked and cut, just because someone liked to do so. Alexius would distract his mind with other things, much more pleasant things. Like the woman he met recently, Calpurnia. She was one of a kind! Alexius was unable to count how many lovers he’d had over the years, but really, he actually did not keep track of them. And many he’d picked up, or they had picked him up, while he was drunk and defeated and needed someone to need him. But Calpurnia was not such a woman. This was different. He met Calpurnia in broad daylight and she was nothing but kind and with plenty of smiles for him. He amused and entertained her, and he had enjoyed doing it. Their conversation had been so… so… fluid, hadn’t it? Like he didn’t need to charm her or kiss her to keep her interest in him, no, she wanted to talk to him and he wanted to talk to her. And she was so lovely. So near his own height, so independent and so stunning in everything that she was and had been… Alexius could barely any flaw. Or, he could find one, just one! Her brother… that was the flaw and that was hardly her fault. It was a big one though, but they had to figure it out anyway. He wanted to, he couldn't help it. It just meant he had to be more careful with her. So he’d found the perfect hospitia for their next meeting. He’d spent many of his savings on the meal and the room and the discretion of the staff… and he had even had to promise them to do a little dirty work for them, just as an insurance. Then he had asked his son to help him write a short message for her... just the name of the place and a date. Nothing more. Before heading to the hospitia, he’d spent some time at a thermae. Then he had put on the nice clothes that Ovinia had ordered for him. A tunic in a soft fabric and in a deep green shade, it went to just beneath his knees. There was also a pair of breeches that went with it, but for Calpurnia’s sake, he tried to look as Roman as possible. So no breeches. Besides, would he really be needing them? What he did need however was the dark cloak he put on, in a faint hope of hiding his shape so people wouldn't see where he went. And now he was here. In a comfortable room with a table and a very comfortable bed – usually very much out of reach for someone like him… and wine and a simple meal had been served on the small table in the room. Alexius waited. Hoping she had not changed her mind. @Chevi
  4. February, 77AD Marcus Barbatius was not a happy man at the moment. Last time he went to the Elysium, they gave him a petty and afraid girl, and he cut her and then after a few weeks, he’d come back for her again. Her or another. But during those weeks, Titus had suddenly left the Elysium and had not sent word to Marcus, so he didn’t know what was going on. There was a new owner to the only brothel Marcus cared to visit, and he was difficult. Apparently now he had to pay to cut the girls again, and he wasn’t sure he wanted that. He had of course paid before also, before he met Titus, but now he’d gotten so used to their little arrangement, that it displeased him. And that was not the only thing that displeased him. That stupid guy from Egypt who came to his shop a few weeks ago, had spilled gossip about a mute young guy, who claimed he was friends with a barber and he’d even mentioned another guy named Alexius. Marcus had heard the name before, or rather, read it. On the walls of Rome. It wasn’t hard to find out where the man lived and what he looked like. He had quite the size and was easily recognizable. Plus the guy, Artemon, had also told Marcus where they lived, more or less. It was easy to find out about that. And then one day, not long after, Marcus was walking through Rome, he saw the girl he cut at Saturnalia. So she lived! But not only did he see her. She was together with the man called Alexius. But, that also meant she’d most likely told someone about Marcus. And maybe this Alexius knew. And since Alexius had a party with the mute kid, who was friends with a barber, it was all very likely that it had to do with Marcus. He wasn't stupid, he could put two and two together. They, however, were stupid. For thinking he'd not find out. To Marcus, it felt like Rome was falling apart. It felt wrong. Maybe he should leave Rome, like he left his hometown. Start over somewhere else. That’s what he was considering, as he sat at a random popina in Rome, eating a stew with a cup of wine on the side. The more he thought about the whole ordeal, the angrier he felt inside. And the best way to calm down again, was to give into the anger and take it out on someone else instead. He finished eating and stood to enter the fresh night. But as he was leaving the popina, someone else was walking in. Marcus glared at them and then almost violently pushed them out of the way, in order to disappear into the early Roman evening. OPEN FOR ANYONE (it is likely that the thread will take a violent turn)
  5. January, 77AD Ione hated this part. The rain was drizzling in a thin mist that soaked her to the bone and standing on a street corner in a gaudy yellow toga, hair plastered to her forehead, teeth chattering reminded her just how low she'd fallen. The fact that the Elysium's walls and roof were only just being reconstructed after the earthquake so many months ago should have meant she'd be happy to spend time outside of its walls, but fishing for business on a grey, dreary January day was hardly the escape she wanted. Nobody came looking for whores at midday, and those that did, did not want a half-frozen slip of a thing that was - she was sure - about as enticing as a block of marble. So she'd been sent out to try and entice some men in. It was not going well. She tried to adjust the folds of the toga and wished she'd been allowed to bring her cloak to conceal it, but no dice. Given that the only women that wore such garments were prostitutes - and cheap ones at that - she was immediately singled out with judgement glares and pitying glances by the passing people who ventured to look at her. She tried to plaster a smile on her face and fluttered her eyelashes at men who walked past. Nobody stopped, although she did garner a whistle from a man working on some scaffolding across the street. She made to move over to him, a grin like a Cheshire Cat on her lips but he waved a hand, signalling he wasn't interested. "Are you sure?" She teased as she moved within earshot, "You'd be surpr-" She was cut off as he turned his back and stalked to the other end of the platform, ignoring her. Men liked to look, but seldom few paid. Shuddering in the cold and at the rejection she stalked back to her spot, glancing around, desperately, for somebody. She was no good at fishing - the other girls and men had always been better at it than her, but she owed a debt for the wine pitcher that was smashed in her room last night by the drunken thug she was servicing and to repay it she needed a client. Anybody. Soon. TAG: Open!
  6. Early October, 76 AD It was dark in Rome this night. The moon wasn’t shining, there was not just a veil, but a thick blanket of clouds over the city for once. That made it all seem quite dark this time of year and Marcus enjoyed it. He had gone out with a purpose tonight, the usual purpose, wearing a cloak over his head and a proper knife by his belt, hidden by the long cloak that went all the way to his knees. He was ready for something to happen. Something he would like. There had been a few attacks he’d failed at recently and he wasn’t very happy about it. At least none of the women had been talking about him, no one had found out about him, so that was good. Even if they escaped, the next best thing was them not talking. He preferred that. Else he’d have to find them again and make sure they wouldn’t talk. He’d like to find them anyway. Maybe he’d find one tonight? Quite randomly he was walking around for some reason, ended up near the racing court. Not that he had any connection to the place, and yet… as he walked by a certain house with a few barrels in front of it, he stopped. Didn’t he once kill a girl there? It had felt so good. He didn’t mean to kill her, but she struggled and she hurt him and she wouldn’t shut up. So he made her. He’d slit her throat. And stabbed her chest. He realized he was standing still, as the memories flowed through him. He licked his lips, thinking about it made him want more of the same. There had been so much blood. Maybe some of it had sprayed onto the side of the house or something… without thinking twice, he walked closer to the scene. @Chevi
  7. May, 75CE To some, Titus Aspanius Lupus might seem like an overly cruel master. To Deianira, he was your run-of-the-mill brothel owner, no different than the owner of the brothel she'd been born in or the one she recently vacated. When the man had picked her up at the slave market in Rome, Deia had been at first curious to know what kind of man he was, but the establishment he ran was all she needed to know. Some of the other girls who'd been there longer wished they could work at the Domus Venus instead, because they were all sold so cheaply and Titus allowed men to do terrible things to them, as long as they paid. Deia understood where she was, but what could she do about it? All she could do was try and get by, keep her head down like at her old brothel, and perhaps someday be freed or escape somehow. She had only been here a few weeks and was settling in, more or less. She had seen more customers than she thought was usual, but perhaps that was because she was new and men liked a new toy to play with. Tonight, she was moving around the brothel wearing a skimpy tunica that left little to the imagination. She had not been scooped up yet, so she was helping serve wine to men who were still deciding. She stopped before one such man with her amphora, pouring the wine carefully, lest any spill. "Welcome to the Elysium," she said in accented Latin, plastering a fake smile on her face. "I hope you can find what you are looking for." @Atrice
  8. It had been a long journey but a welcome one, from Britannia's chill to the now unfamiliar sun of Italia. Ostia had never looked so welcoming, and Aulus was impatient for the ship to dock. He would take a horse for himself and Felix and head straight up the Via Ostiensis and change out of his uniform once he got to Rome - and how he hoped that his family would be there and not at Baiae! He hired two horses, one for himself and one for Felix (who had developed into quite a decent rider over the years). He would send Felix to the house to let them know, and to bring him a toga - he had a clean tunic with him, but it was forbidden to wear armour within the pomerium, the sacred limits of the city, and so he resgined himself to having to don the hot unwieldy garment that was the mark of the citizen. It felt like an eternity before he was back in Rome itself, the toga (one of his father's with the broad purple stripe of a senator) heavy around him, with the end over his left arm, and tangling around his legs in a dreamlike familiar way. He had no time for the sights of the city, and the Porta Ostiensis was the nearest gate to his home in the Piscina Publica; Felix had reported that the family were in Rome and anxiously waiting for his return. It seemed like that dream as he walked the familiar streets until he turned into the street where his father's house stood. He could not be denied entry for long; the door-porter knew him and it was mere moments before he was in the atrium where his parents and wife and children were gathered. He greeted his father first, as was only right, and then his mother and only then could he turn to his wife, who looked as he remembered her. Perhaps a little older, maybe more careworn, but still the girl he had met in Greece, in the garden of her father's house, dressed in a simple tunica. He had been enchanted then, and found that he still was, despite the stola she was wearing now as the mark of a Roman matron. "Horatia," he managed, past the sudden lump in his throat. @Sara
  9. 62CE, somewhere in Cappadocia, camp of Quintus Flavius Caesar Alexander Augustus Felix was so far from home he was not even sure he would ever make it back alive. Honestly, he had not even been sure that he would make it here alive - and yet, here he was, in the camp of the Augustus himself, along with his master. They made it. They got out of Rome, trekked across Italia, got on a ship, and made the journey across the sea (Felix decided he liked the sea) all the way to the eastern provinces, where they endured rough travel and many dangers until they managed to find out where the camp was currently established, waiting for loyal refugees like Aulus. Gathering forces. This faraway bastion of loyalty and order welcomed the exiled noblemen with open arms, and finally, after weeks of living outside the law, things were restored to their proper place again. Which meant that Felix was once again a mere slave with no particular importance. Aulus was given a tent the moment he presented himself to his emperor. He deserved it, and more, for putting his life on the line for the cause. The tent was like any other military officer's (space was in high demand in the camp), but it was a home away from home, and more familiar to Aulus than it was to Felix. Felix, on his part, did his best to find his bearings, making sure to do what he could as a body slave for his master's comfort. He got food, got the supplies needed for the tent from the men responsible (even a new set of clothes for Aulus), and once everything was arranged to the best of his abilities, he found himself a blanket and a rug, and made himself a cot to sleep on outside the tent's door. Back in Rome, even a body slave would not have dreamed of sleeping in the same room as his master unless he was ordered to. He would sleep outside, close enough to be called on if needed. On the road here, there were not many rooms to speak of, and appearances to keep up as two traveling companions rather than nobleman and slave, although the farther they got from Rome the less that pretense was needed. Felix liked Aulus, but he did not have illusions about his place. Besides, the nights in Cappadocia were comfortably warm. @Sharpie
  10. Later that same day, after Secrets and Garden Games Hector had an unhappy look on his face. Not because that other slave Helios had visited his master today, because clearly Tertius hadn’t even touched the other handsome slave… and it wasn’t because of the news either. It was probably no secret that Hector didn’t like how his master looked at Charis, since that could threaten his own position in the household. No, he was unhappy because his master was unhappy. Tertius had shared a little with Hector about what Helios told him; something about Charis wanting to control Tertius and she obviously couldn’t. It didn’t make Hector more fond of her, only less. Tertius had had a cup of wine to calm his nerves, but it didn’t help. Not even a massage from Hector helped. He would have to speak to Charis and make her understand just how inferior she was in this household and that if she thought she could control Tertius, she was wrong. She was very wrong! He could make her life miserable if he wanted to, but he had kindly allowed her to work in the gardens and he could tear that away from her. He could tear away anything that pleased her. He could tear her apart. “Hector, tell Charis to come. Alone.” Tertius finally said firmly to his body slave and Hector nodded silently and went to fetch Charis. Tertius still sat in his office, the tablinum, he hadn’t moved much since Helios was here. But now he stood and paced a bit around, feeling restless. Gods how stupid was that girl? She’d looked so fine and pretty at the slave market that day, and she had seemed to be a fast learner, but it was all a mask and she thought she could control her master. He inhaled a breath, tried to calm himself, but the more he thought about what he learned today, the more upset he became. Finally there was a gentle knock before Charis would enter the tablinum. Tertius sat down on the edge of the front side of the table. @Sara
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