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Hector

Reginus Georgus

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Hector lay back lazily on the bed in the small chamber, intermittently switching between filing away at one fingernail after the other and drawing his outspread hand closer to his face for examination. He hated the space, if only because there were little traces of Charis here and there, but he had opted to be there rather than anywhere else, where he would have normally been enjoying the warmth of the sun, to avoid the other slaves. That was the one good thing about the bedroom when compared to the accommodations for the slaves, that he had his privacy, for the most part.

The entrance creaked to give way for Charis and immediately Hector fell as silent as a grave and his body stiffened. All of a sudden, his relaxed, self-indulgent air changed into something purposely frosty and passive aggressive as he continued tending to his nails without bothering to address her. At least for a very brief while before he ceased his pretentions and looked up towards her with a look like he was going to be sick. He eyed her to wait and see to see if she had noticed that he’d gone about rearranging their belongings, specifically clumping hers into a back corner. He had felt very productive doing so.

“I thought they looked better over there,” he said in a tone that made it out like uttering words for her were such a chore or distraction from the important things in life. 
 

@Sara

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Charis eyed him with a mixture of outright contempt and frustration. She cast her eyes around the dim light in the room and frowned. Where was her chest?! When her eyes finally adjusted to the light she spied it on the floor, shoved into a corner with her spare tunica haphazardly balled next to it. She turned her face to glare at him and placed down the flowers she had been bringing into the room to give it a sorely needed piece of nature. 

"Really?" She arched a brow and knelt down to drag the chest and her tunica from where he'd placed them, and with effort, placed them down on the bed next to him with a heavy thud. "I think they look better here." She glared. 

She had, in the few days that they had been forced to share this space, found this new development fairly intolerable. Fortunately she hadn't been seeing him much as Tertius took the man to bed thus far, which meant relaxing nights in her own bed, but the distance she felt from the other slaves was a chasm that was painful. As much as sleeping in the dormitory disturbed her sleep, it at least gave her friends. She felt more isolated than ever. 

"Don't go through my things. Or move them." She glared and tapped him lightly on the forehead as if to remind him.

 

TAG: @Joaquin

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The second Charis spoke, Hector immaturely groaned loudly out of grief as if he had just been gouged by a spear. “I didn’t touch anything, you deceitful harpy,” he said. It didn’t matter to him that he had just admitted to moving her things. With her accusation of his refiling through her things, he wondered if she suspected him. Whenever she wasn’t around, he often glanced over his shoulder before digging his sticky fingers though her belongings, simply to get a sense of her. Ever since Tertius had told him everything, he paid even more attention to her than he had before, watching the way she spoke, the way she moved, carried herself, studying her face and body, and it was still beyond him why Tertius liked her. Between the both of them, he was the far prettier one.

He swatted at her finger as if it were a bee before giving her a look of utter horror from the contact, as if it gravely offended him. She could breathe or simply exist, and it was all offensive to him. He almost considered throwing the stone he used as a nail file at her head like a child but knew the moment he did, she’d be scuttling off to Tertius like the little insect that she was. Instead, he opted for the second-most immature choice of action and flung out his leg to nudge her away in the same manner one might if they were trying to displace a yapping lapdog. “Can’t you see I’m too busy for your child’s play?” he exhaled, returning to his examination of his finger nails. 

@Sara

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Charis shot him a glare that could melt ice and set about refolding her tunica, on the bed - its scratchy material occasionally flapping against his leg. "If you mess with my things, I mess with yours." She simply shrugged. Honestly. This was like when she and her eldest brother used to fight when they were children, but with none of the sibling camaraderie that came afterwards - just the annoying irritation. 

As he nudged her she rolled her eyes and threw down the tunica onto him as if whipping him with it, before taking it back up again ad beginning to fold. 

His words did elicit an amused glance, however, and a sly smile on her lips. "Yes - you much too busy. You have to make sure you look nice still," She arched a brow at him, her words careful and measured: "Now you getting older and things. I sure I feel the same when I get to your age." She had found out she was two years younger than the irritating little blonde man and that was another arrow in her quiver, another thing to needle him with. She knew Tertius was not the first middle-aged man to find youth and beauty synonymous, but it was playing out very vividly with Hector and Charis who were both younger than his own son. 

Still - she was trying to be civil and hoped he'd take it as she offered, with a jerk of her head to the flowers she had left on a small table. "I thought they'd look pretty in here. For both of us." You see? She was trying to offer an olive branch, much as it pained her to. 

 

TAG: @Joaquin

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Hector wanted to give Charis a bitter “you already are” but said nothing, she was messing with what was his and has felt himself get lashed, he grumbled a string of profanities under his breath. Briefly, he contemplated rising from the bed, scooping her up, and dumping her outside. The most that protected her from it was Tertius’s displeasure with him. But then even as a man, his bark was worse than his bite, a bite that had mostly been domesticated or trained out of the slave. 

Not only did he dislike her, but he disliked stringing together what she was saying in her abysmal Latin. It only served to give him a headache and his face furrowed in pain, uncertain if what she had just said of his looks was an insult or not. He made a loud tutting sound. “You don’t feel anything,” he mumbled like a moody teenager, still tending to his nails, even if he had finished and was only just extending the act to appear preoccupied with something other than Charis.

He gave the flowers a brief and nosey glance from where he was. He honestly would have done the same for the room, it needed life and colour. That is, if he had wanted the room but he didn’t. “Well, I don’t like them, they make me sick,” he told her plainly, “and I don’t need any more of your clutter in here.” He didn’t need more things that reminded him that she lived there too. 

@Sara
 

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"No, no I feel nothing - just a vicious little harpy who is unfeeling." She rolled her eyes, amused. If she didn't laugh she might cry. Her current situation was bad enough without the vindictiveness of this poison little man. How he didn't see that she didn't want this was beyond her, although she supposed jealousy was a powerful force. 

She frowned at the flowers at his comment and sighed. She wanted to give him a good slap and tell him to shut his mouth, but she managed to control her temper just about. 

Instead she arched a brow and leaned over to pick up the flowers and the full glass of water in which they were arranged. She nodded, amused: "Mhmm, I'll get rid of them for you." She stood over him and precariously tipped the glass over so it water lapped at its edge, just about to threaten to fall. She arched a brow down at him. "Maybe I get rid of them on you." She narrowed her eyes and let one drop of water fall onto his forehead, but still kept the glass just above him. "Maybe if you treat me so badly I should treat you so badly." She sighed and placed her spare hand on her hip with an unimpressed glower - as if she were scolding her younger siblings. "I don't want to be here just as much as you don't want to be here, but we are where we are and you need to grow up." 

She let another drop fall on his face and a petal floated down from one of the flowers, settling in his hair.

 

TAG: @Joaquin 

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Hector heard the scraping of the container holding the flowers and had almost believed that Charis had surrendered to return them outside. He fought the teasing of a smile at the corner of his lips, deriving a childish joy at the small victory. That was until she risked breaking the distance between them, the fact that she continued to do so only aggravated him more. He gave her a contorted expression at her entire grotesque display, still utterly blind to whatever it was that his master saw in her. He didn’t want to admit that there might have been some inkling of truth in what she said in the end, even if in his opinion you had to dig through layers of a Brittonic accent and stupidity to get there. 

“It’s maybe I’ll get rid of them on you,” he corrected her. “Not ‘maybe I get rid of them on you’. It makes you sound like a lumbering fool. Not that you aren’t one.” 

Wiping his forehead, he shuffled out from under the flowers in the event that she did follow through with her threat, all the while whispering one last insult under his breath. The droplet had run through the moisturiser he had applied to his face earlier. He began to travel down the length of the bed to set on the end to rearrange his hair, feeling the petal that had made itself home there, he made an annoyed tutting sound as it fluttered down to the floor. “Just make sure to change the water and get rid of the flowers if they die, I won’t be doing it,” he said, his voice still very clearly filled with exasperation, almost like a parent that resigned to letting their child keep a puppy. 

@Sara

 

Edited by Joaquin
#grammarstruggles
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At his correction she glowered. Her Latin was a sore point for her. She'd come to Rome with more than usual, having had a few fleeting lessons with Aia back at home, and whilst she'd been a blisteringly quick learner and could now hold a proper conversation, her accent and some grammar still evaded her. It made her feel dim, stupid and he'd evidently picked up on that. 

As he shuffled out of her reach she glanced over her shoulder with a glare but set her weapon back down, gently shuffling the blooms around until they were in an arrangement that satisfied her. 

When she spoke again, her voice was casual as she tried to temper her irritation. She was trying so, so very hard not to let him get at her. "You need to leave room." She cast a glance over her shoulder at him with an arched brow before turning to face the front again. "Domine...want me tonight and I need to change." She had still yet to fix the little tear in the tunica she was wearing and didn't particularly want Tertius to comment on it. She had one other long, cheap, plain chiton she could wear and she'd take her little bundle of things for the night with her. Her expensive chiton - which he'd gifted her - was still being sewn (begrudgingly) by Jocasta. Pre-emptively, assuming he'd do what she asked, she sat down on the bed and began to unbraid her waist length hair from its updo.

Public nudity seemed a common fact of life here in Rome, albeit a fact she was still unaccustomed to and she didn't particularly want Hector critiquing her physical appearance. The snide little remarks he gave already, were plenty hurtful enough.

 

TAG: @Joaquin

Edited by Sara
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He stared down at the petal, twisting his face and pressing his lips together in irritation. With her in the room, he felt suffocated and being asked to leave was almost an invitation, though he would never take it if only because she was the one to give it. Otherwise, he would have been more than happy to be anywhere else. He felt the bed move very lightly under her small frame, but he didn’t move in response.  “I’m not going anywhere,” he said simply with a strong sense of conviction to keep his ass planted firmly where it was and to make himself as painful as she was to him. “If you haven’t forgotten, I live here now because of you.” As he watched the hair fall down from her head, he felt jealousy and could hardly spare the thought of her alone with Tertius with her hair like that or even the idea that he would be where he was, staring up at the ceiling in the dark, while she was wrapped up in Tertius’s warmth. 

“And you don’t have anything I haven’t seen before or even care to see,” he added nonchalantly, slinking back into a rested position, elbows digging into the mattress. He turned his gaze to an idle spot away from Charis to give off the impression that he was disinterested in her, clothed or otherwise. If it had been any other woman and any other man, he might’ve felt some interest, perhaps even giving into his curiosity for long female hair and playing with it until he could set it into a presentational style. 

But this was Charis, he didn’t want to touch her, and he wanted her to look like the wood mouse that she was.
 

@Sara

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Charis groaned as if in pain at his stubbornness. "Oh? Nothing you haven't seen before?" She snapped and glared at him next to her on their little bed, "Do you make habit of staring at women undressing?" In truth she didn't much know about his desires, nor his other relationships (if any). He seemed utterly, completely devoted to Tertius to the extent she'd begun to see him as completely asexual around everybody else but his master. She heard plenty to confirm he wasn't asexual around Tertius, after all. 

She did need to change. The idea of changing in the slave dormitory wasn't much better given the frosty reception from Jocasta and Eileen, nor did she feel any particular desire to change in the latrines. With a grumble of dissatisfaction she stood and bent to sweep up her other tunica. 

She kept her back to him and swiftly untied the strings that held together her tunica before it quickly dropped to the floor. Fortunately she was wearing a loincloth and being very slim, frail, his view didn't afford much besides the view of the feminine curve of her hips and unfortunately the prominent scar that ran across her shoulder blades. Tertius hadn't commented on it since that very first time, but she knew it was there - pink and fading, but still there from the lash of the slaver on her journey to Rome. She hurriedly redressed herself and as she was tying the ties at her shoulders, turned around to glare at him. "Why don't you make yourself useful and tidy in here?" She kicked his little chest, "I don't want to come back to mess tomorrow." She had tried to be kind, and give him patience but Gods he knew exactly how to get under her skin.

 

TAG: @Joaquin

Edited by Sara
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He scoffed at her little roast. While she began to change, his head tilted lightly to the side with the intention of having a brief peak at what she looked like underneath her clothes, but found himself staring a little longer than he had expected, as if trying to study what was there and discover something about it that would explain what Tertius was after. After all, he felt that he needed a woman, where Hector couldn’t give him that. Perplexed, he quickly shifted his head away, pretending as if it was angled in the direction it was the entire time, perhaps just in time to evade being caught as the other slave spun around. Casually, he brushed strands of hair from his forehead as if that had been occupying him.

“Violent woman,” Hector said like a scolding mother, even if he felt that he should have expected as much from her, before he emitted yet another one of his annoyed tuts. “I have a lot of important items in there.” Predominately oils to moisturise his skin, mud to mask his face. He stretched and dug his head back comfortably into the bedding. If anything, he was gratified that he was succeeding in his mission of making company with misery. “Besides, the room is fine the way it is. You’ve had your fun with the flowers, just relax, it’s not going to look like a stable in here. I’m not a barbarian, it’s not how we are in Rome.” 

@Sara
 

Edited by Joaquin
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"Violent woman, you have no idea." She rolled her eyes. That was a lie, she wasn't a warrior like Cynane but she did know how to wield a knife, at least vaguely. Not that she'd tell him that, he'd undoubtedly run to tell tales that she'd threatened him or something. She didn't need that on top of everything else.

She glanced at the chest. "Important?" She arched a brow, now trying to provoke him. "Ah yes, I barbarian to you, I live in filth and mess," She tutted herself now, increasingly irritated. He had the perfect recipe to get under her skin; cold, personal and cruel. Kneeling now, on the floor with a little smirk of challenge she flung open the lid to his chest, "Maybe if I barbarian I should borrow some of your important things and make myself Roman woman?" Her own chest, should he wish to do the same to her, would be disappointingly empty; a few spare clothes, some of the money she'd managed to save and a few ribbons for her hair. 

She snatched a clay pot of some lotion or another from his chest and stood before he could grab it back off her, "What's this? Can I borrow?" If he knew how to get to her, she knew exactly how to irritate him right back.

 

TAG: @Joaquin

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