A Happy Union [M - S & V]

[Sara]

Zia chuckled despite herself and arched a brow; "Why? Would my mother-in-law not approve of her beloved son's choice of bride?" She smirked. She'd love to do battle with a bossy Roman matron. She was on her turf, where Zia was boss - even if only in a fragile way and only because of her sons lineage. She didn't like to dwell on that though. Her father-in-law just needed to hang on long enough until little Luto came of age and then kick the bucket and she'd be made for life; a woman of influence, mother to a chief and his chief counsellor. She smiled, self-satisfied, at the thought. 

Her thoughts were interrupted - annoyingly - by her husband speaking again and she languidly dragged her eyes back to him with an irritated little glare. "There's lots of things you don't get." She interrupted, before allowing him to continue speaking with a wave of her hand as she snatched the cup back to sip from after he had refilled it. She glanced cautiously at Luto as he explained, before swallowing the dry lump in her throat as he finished. Well...shit. Shit shit shit shit. They hadn't thought of that. 

She stayed silent for some minutes, staring at the curly-haired head of her son who was contently playing with his little figurines; utterly oblivious to the conversation of his fate happening above his head. A hollow feeling filled the pit of her stomach. She was going to do a short barb back, something like they'd never have to worry about such an issue when he wasn't even fucking her in the first place, but bit her tongue. "And what would you suggest?" She asked with a bitter tone but genuine interest underneath it. "To get around such a scenario?" She was not an idiot, and not above asking for advice when necessary. And it seemed in this scenario, it was very necessary. 

 

TAG: @Liv

[Liv]

Titus snorted at Zia's question, and did not dignify it with an answer. Of course his mother wouldn't approve - a foreigner of no lineage, who barely even spoke Latin and whose looks did not even ensnare the senses and engulf the mind in a fog of lust? And it wasn't as though he had had a choice! Eyeing Zia spitefully, Titus let her take the cup back from him and grabbed the jug he'd refilled it with with both hands, placing it firmly and decisively between his loins as he gave her a scornful smirk, daring her to come and get some directly from the source.

The silence could only mean one of two things: either she had previously considered the possibility but dismissed it as unlikely to happen, or she had not thought of it at all and was stunned still by its eventual consequences. Either way, Titus savoured his small victory - it was the first time he had rendered the woman speechless, as far as he could remember. The temptation to taunt her was too great to resist, and he addressed her in an innocent tone. "Do my ears deceive me? Is my wife, whose tongue drips nothing but poison when she addresses me, seriously asking for her husband's advice?"

Then seriousness returned, for the sake of the little boy, but not before a final barb. "I must say I'm rather disappointed in you, though. You're not stupid and you love your son above anything else. Did the possibility really not cross your mind when the old man told you of his plans?" He shook his head, took a careful sip from the jug and faced Zia with a grave expression. There weren't that many options, and Titus was quite sure she wouldn't like any of them. "In all honesty, the safest one for him is to be sent to your relatives and foster the connection to your tribe over his father's. Not as prestigious, but also not as dangerous," he pointed out, eyes darting towards Luto, who was now having an animated, and incomprehensible to Titus, conversation with his figurines. "You could also send him to be raised in an upstanding citizen's household, which creates a hostage situation but makes him more... harmless, if you will, to Rome." That would have been the sure outcome until the traitor Arminius challenged the paradigm, but maybe enough time had passed that that lemur was gone. "Another option is to bump him down from heir and make him the right-hand man to an eventual brother... but that's risky in more ways than one and I don't need to tell you why." How many times had brothers turned on each other for a piece of land, let alone the right to rule a tribe and decide over their fate? 

He fiddled with the rim of the jug between his legs, feeling disquieted. No matter which angle they viewed the situation from, the truth was that parting the little boy from his mother and grandfather was by far the most successful way to ensure his survival in the long term. "The easiest workaround is to keep things exactly as they are now, but as you said earlier, Cultellus isn't pleased with that. You've known him longer, how dangerous is he when he gets angry?" And most importantly, how did he usually react when things didn't go his way? Titus wasn't afraid of death, quite the opposite, but some men would do anything to make a point. Even murder a child.

@Sara

[Sara]

"I must have been too distracted burying my husband to think in too much detail about the plans." She retorted back with a glare, before settling herself, curled up, in the chair as if she were a cat trying to find the most comfortable position. It was oddly informal for her.

Zia, despite the sinking feeling in her stomach and the fury she felt for her ex-father in law over this mess, listened intently. However, as the moments passed by and Titus continued to talk and laid out his options, Zia withdrew. Her eyes fell to the back of her son's head distractedly and her features softened for a few long moments. Each option made a wave of nausea crest in her throat. 

She heard his question, although it took her a moment to properly register it. "Hm?" She asked and darted her eyes back to Ttus, her features resuming the stoney glare she often wore and her back straightening. "Cothelas." She corrected with a small tsk, and shook her head. "And it's not him I'd worry about." She drummed her fingers against the arm of the chair in the same rhythm she used in that fist proper meeting they had, "When Diegis was alive, he interceded on my behalf. The men, most of them, despite what you may presume, don't always take kindly to my advice. My husband was a fool, but he understood my value." She tutted and ground her teeth, obviously irritated. "If I were to go to him, he might listen, he might not, but his advisors won't like it and they'll do something rash." Her fingers continued to drum against the arm of the chair. 

"Maybe I'll do it in secret." She swallowed the sinking feeling she felt, "Send him away." She glanced back up at Titus, "If you ever manage to knock me up that is." 

 

TAG: @Liv

[Liv]

Zia's silence led Titus to believe she was taking the options he had laid out seriously, or at least considering their value. It had the fortunate side effect of keeping her mouth shut, even if it was only for a few precious instants. Soon it was his turn to stay quiet as she went into the tribe's internal politics, something he realised at that moment he had been a fool not to have paid more attention to; the outcome might have been drastically different. Not that it would change what was done, but Titus could start learning now and avoid making the same mistake twice.

The tapping of her fingers on the wood grated on his nerves, but he said nothing, instead drawing circles with his round the rim of the wine jug. "Why, I can't possibly imagine why that would be," Titus interjected under his breath, feeling slightly vindicated in his own opinion of Zia. If even her adopted kinsmen couldn't stand her, why did they expect him to? Still, valuable information was gained - namely, that the chieftain's advisors had no qualms making their disapproval known when their opinions differed. Titus had a sinking feeling that the point where they would lose their faith in Cultellus wasn't too far off in the future, but pushed it back into the recesses of his mind; he was just an outsider, a foreigner with very limited freedom and no access to the full picture.

How much longer would they be talking in circles? Titus ran a head through his hair, feeling his patience dwindle. "You can't have your cake and eat it too. If we don't get baby-making you'll be happy but the old man won't, and if we do he'll be chuffed and you'll be worse than usual. Me, I'll be miserable either way, so who cares?" He punctuated the last comment by throwing both palms up in place of a shrug. Yes, he was the one getting figuratively fucked regardless of what they did. Him and poor Luto, by the looks of things. Thinking back to something Zia had said, Titus met her gaze, his brow creased with worry. "What do you mean by 'something rash'?"

@Sara

[Sara]

Zia wrinkled her nose, more disgusted by his choice of words than the act. Baby-making. He liked to jibe her that she provided as much entertainment in bed as a wooden plank, but he was hardly much better with his roaming hands and grim descriptions. "I will get very, very drunk." She mused aloud and as if on cue, took a deep sip. "Then I won't care, will I? And we can make an offering to the Gods that it's a girl, that way - Cothelas gets his half-Roman child, Luto gets his position, and me and you never have to bed again. A good deal all round." She smirked and downed more of her drink. The thought of having him do anything intimate to her turned her stomach, but she was a woman of her word...most of her time. A though did strike her in that moment though, although he interrupted, as he always did. 

"Kill you, kill Luto," Her son turned his head and peered at the adults at the mention of his name, but didn't understand as they were talking in Latin, "Kill me. Who knows what they'd do? Any and all of the above, probably." She swallowed and shook her head, irritated that her train of thought had been distracted. 

She thought it over some more, in sullen silence, the only sounds she made were the taps of her fingers on the chair. When she did speak, she spoke slowly and didn't look at him. "There is another way, of course. You are fairly plain looking," She didn't bother to look at him and only waved her hand, "And despite what you imagine, there are plenty of brown haired brutes keen to bed me should they be offered the chance. If I was discrete, of course, and actually liked one of them enough to bed and fell with child, you could claim it as your own. Raise it as your own. The brute could be dispatched so he wouldn't talk." She waved a hand, "And we're all happy; Cothelas has his half 'Roman', I get sex with somebody half decent, and you don't have to touch me." 

 

TAG: @Liv

[Liv]

It was just as Titus had guessed, and he spared Luto a smile as the child looked up, having heard his name. He wouldn't mourn Zia if she was struck dead right then and there, but the little boy was different. He was bright and innocent, and the only soul in the whole tribe who didn't look at Titus with contempt. It would be a sad thing if he died.

He shook his head to dispel the dark thoughts, half-listening to the woman's droning. "I think we've already established that not even all the drink in this town will make us more agreeable to each other, but by all means, let's keep trying. Maybe one day we'll get the hang of it." He unintentionally copied her gestures, bringing the wine jug to his mouth and taking a careful swig so as not to spill it on his clothes. "A good deal indeed," Titus had to agree. It did seem to be the more harmless option - the only technicality was ensuring it was a girl. He caught himself before he said anything else, a little disconcerted that he was not considering hypothetical children with this harpy but also their fates, and just in time to hear her latest comment.

Titus gaped wordlessly at Zia for a few seconds, then burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. It left him breathless and in more pain than he would like to admit, but it slowly subsided as he grabbed his ribs, fingers digging into flesh to divert the soreness from the still tender bone. When he had finally managed to catch his breath, he rested his gaze on Zia's face, brown eyes glinting with unabashed amusement. "Are you fucking kidding me?" A new torrent of laughter threatened to spill over, but that time he did a better job of reigning it in. "Do you honestly think I would just raise some Dacian stranger's child as my own and be all happy about it?" If Titus didn't know better he would have thought it had been an attempt at humour. As things stood, he was beginning to question ever having considered the woman clever.

Mirth gave way to malice when he realised just what a wonderful weapon he'd been - likely unwittingly - handed. "Tell me, why shouldn't I step outside and share this brilliant plan of yours with the old man? Bet he'd be delighted to know how compliant you really are." He spit out the word as though it tasted foul; it had been overused in these past hellish weeks and hung over his head like a giant weight. "If looks are a problem for you too, next time get on all fours, close your eyes and think of one of those brutes you like so much. Problem solved." If only Zia would keep her mouth shut, she would be quite pleasant from the shoulders up. Whatever flaws she found with his appearance didn't bother Titus too much: he knew he was neither hideous nor an Adonis, and she had proven time and again how spiteful she could be.

@Sara

[Sara]

Zia had no clue why he was laughing. Not only had she married a Roman, but also an idiot, apparently. She waited for the laughing to subside and arched a brow, watching him mirthlessly. She frowned as he spoke and retorted back, almost instantly; "What difference does it make? You can adopt it, love it, call it yours, be its father?" She swallowed another sip of wine as he ranted away. But as he bid her get on all fours she glared and raised her voice to a commanding level, "Enough!" She shouted and Luto looked up, worried. 

Her chest was rising and falling quickly and her eyes were on fire. She spat words back at him, "I am trying to make this work, trying to save you from fucking me which you seem so repulsed by doing, trying to give you an out by adopting another child. I'm also," She leant closer to him, furious, "Trying to find a way to save my son's life which I know you undoubtedly do not care about, but I do, not to mention the rest of my people." She snapped and gripped the wine cup in her hand, sorely tempted to smash it square into his awful smug face, "This is not about you, you petty, foolish, evil little man. This is bigger than you. So get a grip and help me or fuck off and die like the pathetic worm you are. You could offer us so much, you could save lives if you wanted to, if you cared enough to help, but all you care about is your stupid fucking pride, and I am through pandering to you." She spat the last words at him, righteous anger in her veins and slammed the wine cup down on the table, making Luto jump. He immediately retreated, recognising his mothers anger, to Titus and gripped his tunic. 

 

TAG: @Liv

[Liv]

Titus had barely opened his mouth to counter that it made a world of difference and no, he could not do any of those things because he did not fancy knowingly taking on a pair of horns before he snapped it shut, taken aback by Zia's sudden outburst. A harpy indeed, now well on its way to morphing into one of the Furiae. He remained silent whilst she spat her accusations, occasionally frowning in disagreement or almost cutting in to refute her words but changing his mind at the last second, though he did not flinch or lean back even as she leant closer. At last he couldn't keep it in anymore, riposting in a tone of measured anger.

"You're just so fucking charitable, aren't you? Doing all of this for my sake, the idiot Roman who doesn't even speak your language. Your consideration is moving." He flicked his gaze at her cup as it was forcefully put down on the table, the noise drawing his attention momentarily. Save lives? What was she on about? Titus snorted derisively, rolling his eyes. His pride was all he had left, and what remained of it was in tatters. Wasn't it natural that he should cling onto it like a drowning man to a piece of wood, even if he knew it wouldn't save him? He was sure it was the same for Zia; they were birds of a feather in at least that respect. As if pride wasn't the only thing keeping her from making a genuine effort.

He felt a tug on his tunic and looked down, being met with Luto's wide eyes and fearful expression. The poor child apparently wasn't used to his mother's fits, and Titus felt a strange need to comfort him. He took the wine jug from between his legs and placed it back on the table that had been its original spot, then pulled Luto in to sit on his lap. The boy complied though he still did not let go of the tunic, and Titus gave him a few tentative pats on the head. For how curly the kid's hair was, it was surprisingly soft.

"You've got a very easy way out of this. Kill me," he said quietly after a moment's pause, looking at Zia in earnest. "I'm serious. Choke me, hit me in the head with this," he pointed at the jug, "go get some poison. I won't fight it, promise. I'll just sit here and wait for you to be done." Luto looked quizzically at the two adults, wondering if they had stopped fighting, but stayed where he was. "Then you'll be to free to find a less foolish and more attractive Roman who'll care enough to help you get what you wanted and save those precious lives," he concluded softly, running his hand through the little boy's locks in an attempt at soothing him. 

And Titus would be on his merry way to Tartarus.

@Sara

[Sara]

Zia's chest was rising and falling at breakneck speed, anger and humiliation and upset whizzing through her mind. Oh Gods how she wanted to take him up on his goad, to wrap her hands around that neck and choke him out until he went to the afterlife and was punished for every further day for eternity. Gods how much she wanted to do that. But as her son fidgeted on Titus' lap her eyes were drawn down and she swallowed, watching his face, watching his fearful eyes and her heart broke. Oh Luto. 

She crumpled back in her seat, folding over to place her head in her hands, her breathing hard and sweat beading on her brow. She felt tears prick her eyes, but with her head in her hands she was relieved he couldn't see them. She couldn't stay here, couldn't be here with him she'd just end up doing something foolish. Before she could stip herself, she pushed herself to stand on shaking legs and spoke in Dacian to her son, "Come on sweetheart, we need to see grandfather and then we can go and play, hmm?" Her son looked tentatively back between Zia and Titus but reluctantly nodded and began to slip from the mans lap, giving his hand a squeeze as he stepped away in a way that would be adorable had it been anybody else. 

Zia took his hand firmly, but leant down to give him a kiss on his curls, straightening up but not able to meet Titus in the eye. She stared down at his chest. Her voice was hoarse and eyes were red. "I finish bleeding next week. I'll see you then." She swallowed the lump in her throat and turned to leave, pulling Luto with her. 

When she was at the door, she turned and finally managed to look at him. "Think of my son." 

 

TAG: @Liv

[Liv]

A week later

He had indeed been thinking a lot of Luto for the past few days. The little boy had been back a couple of times to play and ask why his mummy had been so angry, but Titus had lacked the vocabulary to explain - and even if he hadn't, it somehow did not feel right to involve a child in adults' quarrels. Instead he had tried to divert the boy's attention to learning the Latin names of all his animal figurines - it turned out he had been hiding a few - and numbers. They had made good progress up to V, after which everything was labelled 'a lot' by Luto.

Despite his threat, he had made no attempt to tell the chieftain of Zia's preposterous idea. While Titus had been more than a little inflamed at the time, in the following days some sort of depressive fog had settled in his mind, blanketing it in indifference. What did he care? Why did he care? Why did they try to drop the responsibility of a little boy's life and many others on his shoulders, when they didn't even trust him enough to let him outside and fill his lungs with much needed fresh air? 

Yet not everything was gloom and doom, and a week had made a surprising yet crucial impact in his body. He could now take careful deep breaths without more than short-lived discomfort and had even slept on his side without being woken up in the middle of the night by a very stark reminder that he should change position. Maybe he could give press-ups a try now? Anything to have something to focus on, even if it was something as simple and basic as exercise. He could even count in Dacian, to give his brain an extra task to occupy it - though at some point he would have to switch back to Latin, because Luto wasn't the only one with a limited grasp on the numbers in another language.

Mind made up, Titus cleared a space in the middle of the room, pushing the table and chair against a wall, and inspected the floor for any bumps or grooves that might throw off his balance if he put his hands on them, pleased when he found none and it was all as flat as the sea on a calm day. The next step was to take off his tunic, which not only kept it from becoming drenched in sweat but also let Titus test out a range of ribcage and shoulder movements before going ahead with his work-out session. When nothing more bothersome than a tug here and there made itself known, he folded the garment and placed it atop the table, double-checked that his bracca were properly tied, and dropped into a prone position in the vacant space.

One... Two... Three... So far so good, although Titus didn't recall finding it so hard to raise himself on his arms again the last times he had done it, in what felt like another lifetime. Determined to banish useless thoughts from his head, he focused solely on his breathing, the good way in which his muscles were straining, and counting the sets in his head. He was well over thirty when the door opened and he suddenly had an audience, though as absorbed he was in the task at hand, he did not immediately notice it.

@Sara

[Sara]

Zia felt better. Her body felt so pleasantly...warm, and the stupid, irritating, pervasive thoughts had been swept clean free from her mind today. And for that, she had her herbs¹ to thank. Or the priests, who had given her a healthy stash for her own personal use. Her eyes were red as she wandered slowly through the corridors of the building, humming to herself, a lazy smile on her lips. She wasn't a new woman when she inhaled the sweet, sickly smoke from the plant but she was a much, much more relaxed version of herself. And a hungrier one too, but that was by the by. She needed to relax for this, and so she had spent a good portion of the afternoon trying not  to dwell on Titus and his irritating, stupid, smug face and simply enjoy the warm tingles that her body felt after her inhalations. 

Her plan had worked and as she swept into his rooms - her face was a picture of relaxed contentedness. It took her - in her addled mind - a moment to realise what he was doing, and when she did finally piece it together she let out a low natured, happy chuckle which turned into a full blown giggle. Most unlike her. 

Her red rimmed eyes lazily lingered on his body - seen in a different light now her mind wasn't quite so shrouded in hatred and depression. She let out a low whistle, impressed at his physique, and arched a  brow, moving slowly and laconically to curl herself up in a chair in front of the fire. She didn't say anything, and just sat in her contented little world, smile on her lips.

 

TAG: @Liv

¹ The Dacian's were partial to weed, inhaled - not smoked.

[Liv]

A chuckling sound gave him pause, and Titus stopped midway up to look at its source, concentration broken. Of course - who else? There was something out of the ordinary, though, with the way the chuckles morphed into giggles and then into a whistle. Feeling self-conscious all of a sudden and acutely aware of the strain on his arm muscles that would have them shaking uncontrollably within moments, he pulled himself up into a sitting position, glaring daggers at the woman for having cut his workout short. In all honesty he should have stopped a while ago, take it easy the first few days, but the long-lasting bout of inactivity and an evasive desire to think of nothing else had made Titus go over the limits of sense. 

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, Titus wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand and looked at Zia with suspicion. She was not her usual caustic self - quite the opposite, with a strangely carefree smile playing on her lips and red-rimmed eyes. Had she been crying in joy? Was she even capable of feeling joy? Maybe she was sick and had a fever; high fevers made people do strange things. She might be cold too, curling up in front of the fire like that, which was consistent with a fever. The gods be damned if Titus was going to get up and check her forehead, though.

"Are you ill?" he asked cautiously, doubt written plainly on his face.

@Sara

[Sara]

Zia grinned and then let out another giggle. A most womanly, high-pitched giggle. Odd. "No-o. Not ill. I'm fine, I'm pleased to see you looking so..." She narrowed her eyes and tried to think of the word, tilting her head to the side and purposefully ogling him for what must have been a minute or so, in complete silence, "Well." 

She curled herself tighter, tucking her legs into her chest and wrapping her arm around them. "I had a good afternoon, did you have a good afternoon?" She asked, for once no malice at all in her words. Stoned-Zia was a far superior conversatioalist than sober-Zia. "One of my priests gave me some of the flower," She said with another wide, feline grin, "Maybe that's why I'm happy to see you so....well." She wiggled her eyebrows again and then dramatically looked him up and down, lingering on his abs, before breaking into peals of proper laughter. "Y...You need to lighten up too...you should try it." She said as she finally settled down and let her head hit the back of a chair with a clunk. Her eyes fluttered shut but the contented smile remained on her face. "Do you want to impregnate me now?" 

 

TAG: @Liv

[Liv]

If things were weird before, they had taken a turn for the weirder now. Zia didn't sound 'fine', not with the giggling and the predatory gleam in her eyes. For someone who claimed to be repulsed by Titus at nearly every available opportunity - and to her credit, had acted accordingly until the present episode -, she sure seemed to be enjoying her long and decidedly not discreet eyeful. "I was having one, yes," he replied, implying it had stopped being a good afternoon the moment she had walked in.

Definitely a fever. Flower? What was she on about? "Thank you for your... concern..." Titus noted with a slight nod, feeling apprehension mount with each passing second. Try what? Do what?! What if he caught whatever illness was making Zia act so strangely? Next thing he knew they would be spinning wool and trading jokes in between bouts of wild sex. "Do you want me to?" he asked in turn, though confirmation was likely unnecessary after she had practically licked him up with her gaze. Had it been a more agreeable woman like the curvaceous slave that sometimes brought his meals, Titus would have relished the attention, but with Zia it just felt a little uncomfortable. 

She made one good point, though: he desperately needed to lighten up. In fact, he had been trying and mostly succeeding in doing just that before her untimely interruption. Curiosity got the better of Titus. "What's this flower thing and how does it work?" If it was the reason for her good mood, maybe it wasn't so bad. Hopefully it also caused temporary memory loss.

@Sara

[Sara]

Zia arched a brow and jerked her bed, "I'm not saying no, am I?" She retorted, a usual bit of her sarcasm coming back through but without the caustic tone. Instead, a dramatic frown creased her brow - even if her eyes remained shut. "The flower. The green flower." She repeated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

She finally cracked an eye and peered at him, realising that he had no idea what she was talking about. Buoyed by her high-ness she scrambled from her perch and moved  the door, cracking it and bellowing out in Dacian for a slave. She chattered instructions quickly and the slave nodded and hurried away. Satisfied, Zia slammed the door and leant against with another appraising glance at him. "You'll see. Maybe it'll cheer you up, misery guts." She chuckled again and withdrew again to her chair.

It wasn't long before the slave returned in a fluster with another trailing behind her. The apparatus was refined; a golden tripod with smoking coals set beneath a perforated plate. The slaves set it down on a stone table and set about stoking a fire on the coals. On the perforated plate they laid leaves of the flower, waiting for it to catch fire. At which point, Zia reached out with toe and kicked Titus' shoulder. "Lean in and inhale it." She wiggled her eyebrows again and leant back again, fluttering her eyes shut as she spoke again. "We've got plenty more, although the priests'll tut that we're not using it for its proper purpose." She snorted.

 

TAG: @Liv

[Liv]

It turned out whatever this flower thing - or fever - was doing to Zia, it had not managed to completely mask her less than delightful personality. Still, it was a marked improvement as far as Titus was concerned, and he found himself giving serious consideration to her proposal. If he got drunk enough and she didn't get any more sober, he might just trick his brain into making a big deal of small deals. And then nobody would pester him for a month or so.

Lost in his thoughts, Titus barely took notice of Zia's sudden call to action, though he registered a blur of movement in his peripheral line of sight. "We'll see," he mumbled noncommittally, worrying his lip and giving Zia a new look of appraisal as he weighed his options. Yes, it might just work, if she kept smiling and he focused on her face. He'd had worse.

Two slaves came in carrying mysterious paraphernalia and quickly went about setting it up, and before long the contraption was ready and Titus felt a none-too-gentle nudge on his shoulder. He looked up at Zia, a shadow of a smile emerging on his lips, and nodded before doing as she said and leaning in to breathe in the smoke. The scent was herbal and sticky, but not unpleasant, and smoother going down the lungs than smoke from a fire or brazier. "Like this? That's it?" It seemed too easy, although Titus was still very much feeling like his usual self. "For how long to I have to do this? Before I do you."

@Sara

[Sara]

Zia couldn't contain herself and howled with laughter as he did as he was bidden and inhaled. When she finally recovered, tears of laughter pricking her red eyes she nodded slowly, "That's it, that's it. You're a quick learner Titus." She said the latter with sarcasm but no malice, grinning from ear to ear like a cheshire cat. 

She fluttered her eyes back and sank into bliss on the chair. She adjusted her position though so her legs were dangling over arm and her head the other as the blood rushed into her temples. She cracked an eye and stared at the ceiling as he continued his questioning. "You can do me now if you want." She deadpanned and then adjusted her head to peer at him. "But about  ten minutes, maybe a bit less." She shrugged awkwardly from her position and went back to her humming. She knew if she had any more right now she may be sick, so satiated herself with the aroma filling the room. Besides, the sun wasn't even set yet, they'd have plenty of time for more later.

 

TAG: @Liv

[Liv]

Zia's laughter made Titus blush a deep shade of crimson, feeling like a child who was being made of for some obscure reason. Wasn't he being fucking compliant enough? Even when he did as he was told they mocked him. After debating for a hot minute whether he should grab Zia by the neck and shove her smug face into the coals, he opted to show her his middle finger and roll his eyes. "I'm not drunk enough yet for that. Or... sick, or whatever it is this thing does to you."

If she spoke the truth, he would find out in about ten minutes just what it did. He felt silly, sitting on the floor inhaling the fumes from some burnt plant, but the possible effects were interesting... assuming Zia wasn't lying, of course. Perhaps she wasn't partaking it in because she had fooled him and this herb did something quite different from whatever else she had had. Assailed by doubt, Titus reached out and tugged on her leg, giving it a good pull. "Get down here, wife. Misery loves company." 

@Sara

[Sara]

Zia mumbled as she felt something on her leg. Her cat? No, where was her cat? No it was her husband and she felt herself slip from her chair into a crumpled pile on the floor. Not even that could sour her mood, however, not completely and she chuckled. She sprawled herself out, lying on her back so her head was next to him, peering up. The flower was a miracle worker. She remembered that this morning she wished to smash his head into a wall until it was shards of bone, and now? Apathy, verging on amusement. Miracle worker indeed. 

"I'm not miserable." She countered, still peering up at him and breathing in the sickly sweet smoke with a contented sigh. "Are you feeling it yet? That sort of...relaxing, of all your muscles, the sort of sense that everything is going to be alright?" She closed her eyes again and hummed her tuneless tune, felling utterly relaxed. "No wonder the priests love it. I don't think they can talk to the Gods with it, they just want a good night." 

 

TAG: @Liv

[Liv]

Well, now she was down, but that had been a mostly ungraceful fall. Apparently this flower affected one's movements.. or just made one more immune to pain and unlikely to notice the floor was hard and unyielding. Titus looked down at his side and shook his head again, taking in Zia's uncharacteristic state. She wasn't all that ugly when she was all relaxed like this. Her eyes were pretty, and the tip of her nose was very boopable - almost cute. Why she felt like she had to ruin it by opening her mouth was anybody's guess. 

"I was making a joke. You called me misery earlier," he explained, breathing in more of the fumes. Maybe the smoke had taken the edge off so much that it had made her momentarily daft, in which case Titus would thank Roman and Dacian gods alike for the merciful reprieve. Her mellow voice seemed to mimic the smoke's wispy quality, covering the world in a thick, languid calm that made his muscles heavy and his heartbeat slower. "Mmm, I think I see what you mean..." Hardly surprising the priests were so fond of it; as he inhaled a little deeper each time, Titus was beginning to feel like he too could reach the heavens and strike up a nice chat with Jupiter and Mars. Give them a piece of his mind, too, and find out why he had angered them so.

He glanced down at Zia again, this time accompanying the gesture with a boop to her nose. The temptation had been too great to resist. "How come you don't want more when it's so good?"

@Sara

[Sara]

Zia grinned and glanced up at him with a dazed expression. He seemed relaxed, or more relaxed than he usually was - which was still short of most people. Her reactions were slowed though and she frowned as a finger come into contact with her nose, blinking once, twice, thrice before breaking out into a shockingly girlish giggle for the demure woman. She bit back the temptation to bite at his finger that hovered over her face. 

"Because...because you can get ill, if you have too much. The room spinsss," She made wavy motions with her hands and then the effort became too great and she collapsed them back on her chest. "But if you have enough? Bliss..." She grinned again and closed her eyes, humming her tuneless song to herself. Without really thinking, content in her drugged up aura, she reached out a hand to his shoulder and dragged him down to the ground - resting her fingers on his hair. "You should grow your hair," She commented sleepily, "It looks silly so short...and a beard...a proper beard..." As she spoke, her fingers moved to his chin. 

 

TAG: @Liv

[Liv]

The coquettish giggle that left Zia's lips elicited an amused chuckle from Titus, unaccustomed as he was to the novelty. It was so much more enjoyable when they were laughing together instead of hurling veiled insults at each other, he mused dreamily as he retracted his finger and let his hand fall onto his lap, inhaling more of the sweet-smelling smoke. Before he could resist it, or actually notice it, a bony hand on his shoulder pulled him down, and Titus obliged like a sack of corn. His elbow slammed sluggishly against the floor, breaking the fall and leaving only a dull sensation where ordinarily there would have been pain and numbness. This plant really was something else, and 'bliss' was starting to sound like a very apt description. 'Relaxation' was another adequate one, and Titus found himself cherishing the sensation; it was as is his worries and cares had been left a long way away, out of sight and out of mind. 

More hair? What a ridiculous idea. Titus hummed a negative answer, brow slowly knitting in what was intended to be reproach but came across as comical disbelief. "Have you ever grown a beard? First, it's hot... like a scarf you can't take off. Second, it's itchy as fuck..." Not like her fingers, though; those felt nice and soft on his skin. How was he supposed to feel them if he had had a beard or a giant mane in the way? He couldn't. Feeling very smart, Titus closed his eyes and nodded to himself, the movement making Zia's fingers tickle his chin in a pleasant manner. Unconsciously he leant into the touch, shifting around a bit so he was half-lying on his side, and when no discomfort pierced through the indolent haze, reached out an arm to pull Zia closer to him.

Eyes still closed, he brought his lips close to her ear, his words a leisurely murmur, "That thing you said... if I wanted to impregnate you now...? I may have changed my mind..."

@Sara

[Sara]

Zia wrinkled her nose at the thought of a scarf permanently attached to her face. Nonetheless, she persisted in a dreamy voice; "But you'd look so handsome, like a proper Dacian man." She chuckled. The flower had loosened her tongue. When she was sober, she begrudgingly admitted that he was not awful to look at. Specifically when sans-tunic. Now she was high as a kite, she was much more open about admitting it. 

She allowed herself to be dragged closer to him, and leaned up until she was led over him; hair falling into his face. But whether he was joking, or being deadly serious, she laughed loudly and collapsed onto his chest, vibrating with giggles and face against his neck laughing into his skin. "Cha...Charmer." She said between giggles, before she finally managed to calm herself down and moved, laconically and slowly to sitting, legs dangling over him as he remained led on the floor. She used the back of her hand to wipe away tears of laughter from her eyes, before trying to compose her face in a serious mask. Every few seconds her resolve broke and her lips quivered and she made a mumbling 'mhmmm' sound as she tried to stop from laughing. After a minute or two she finally managed to compose herself into stony silence. 

"Is that how you a-ask a woman to bed?" She waggled her eyebrows dramatically. Her head felt lovely and...full of clouds, her senses dulled and she blinked slowly at him. "Come on, lover boy. Ask me p-properly." 

 

TAG: @Liv

[Liv]

Gods, he did not want a beard, nor to look like a Dacian. And if she wanted one after all, then what the fuck was he here for? Titus shook his head, the ceiling spinning in slow-motion above him, and voiced his objection. "Can't I just look like a handsome Roman man?" In his relaxed state, the implausibility of their banter was the furthest thing from his mind - why even consider that when he could just reach up and capture a lock of Zia's long hair between his fingers and marvel at the way the light caught on it, painting it a dozen shades of gold and brown Titus never knew existed? Or feel her breath tickling hotly against his throat and realising he had been too slow in snaking his arm round her waist to keep her there, his bare chest mourning the abrupt loss of her warmth?

A mystery, this flower. Like her laughter. And everything else.

Properly, she said. Titus creased his brow in concentration, trying to work out what she meant by that. Probably not the straight-forward 'wanna fuck?' he felt tempted to reply with, but something daintier, more elaborate. Even barbarian women liked to be courted, it seemed, at least when under the influence of this uncanny plant. He was no poet, far from it, but maybe he could borrow from one. As an errant idea consolidated into a plan, Titus smiled smugly up at Zia and coughed twice to clear his throat (though that might also have been the smoke's doing).

"I entreat you, my sweet Zia, my darling, my charmer: prepare for us nine straight fuckathons."¹

There. If that wasn't a proper request, then Titus didn't know what else he could say. Propping himself up on both elbows and ignoring the sudden pain in his ribcage, he held a hand out for Zia to take in clear invitation and licked his lips seductively (or so he hoped): either pull him up or join him down there again. "Bed or floor? Your choice, my delight."

@Sara

__________
¹ - Catullus 32, loosely adapted by yours truly

[Sara]

Zia couldn't help it. She laughed. Howled, actually, was probably a more accurate description. Tears stung her eyes and her cheeks flushed as her cackles settled down to giggles as she ungracefully untangled her legs from his and moved to kneel up next to him. "You are...a master of words, sweet husband." She said a little breathlessly, still grinning that feline grin from ear to ear, thoroughly and utterly amused and...a little aroused (well, maybe just a bit more that a little...I mean, she wasn't blind, look at him). 

At his question, her eyes narrowed comically and swung one leg over him until she was kneeling, straddling him. Her hair fell over her shoulder tickling his face as she leaned down in what she hoped was a sultry way. "Floor." She said with a voice thick with lust. She obviously wasn't thinking given that her knees were already ching and the flagstones that they built with weren't the most...forgiving. But she didn't intend to be doing the bulk of the work anyway. One hand moved down his chest slowly, teasingly as she laid a soft kiss against his throat and her hand moved to tangle with the confusing mass of fabric that was his subligaculum, trying to untie it although it was a fruitless effort. 

"I thought I repulsed you?" She offered with a wry smirk as she peered up at him. Something told a different story as she tried to untie the garment, unsuccessfully - her motor skills fairly compromised by the flower.

 

TAG: @Liv