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23 | May 5, 52 AD | Slave | Frycook for Caius Lupus | Lesbian | Wanted | Rachel Brosnahan





Even before she was sold to Caius, Bretta had always been a go-getter, searching here and there for whatever opportunities she could find to help the people closest to her. While she may come across as very casual in her actions, words, and body language, she puts her all into the job she’s been given. This has resulted in her becoming scarily efficient at preparing food and taking orders for Caius’s stall.

The years spent under his ownership have made her more careless with her tongue. She is cold towards those she doesn’t like, and will say what she wants regardless of the repercussions. Some of it is genuine. The rest is a facade meant to hide her grief over being separated from her younger brother, Rufus. Something she keeps hidden deep down is her love for wordplay and extremely vulgar poems.

Regarding her loved ones, she guards them to the point of being overprotective. She often believes she knows what’s best for them and will act outside of what they truly want. Following her head rather than her heart, her arguments for her actions are often based on solid reasons (or at the very least, ones she’s twisted to rationalize why she doesn’t like someone). Similarly, she is willing to change if those closest to her wish for it.

Despite her shortcomings, Bretta can be very caring to those she trusts and loves. She is also very forgiving, knowing herself what it is like to change. That doesn’t mean, however, that she’ll blindly support someone’s journey towards redemption.



Bretta is average height for a British woman, being 5’3. Her copper hair falls in long tresses over her shoulders. Most of the time, she keeps it fastidiously fastened away so it doesn’t interfere with her work. Her blue eyes are cold and piercing. As a result of working for Caius, her body is tough from standing up for hours a day preparing various types of food, and her arms have a fair share of small oil burns. Her clothing is simple and practical. Most noticeable is her outfit is her apron.



Father: Unknown (likely Gaius Tullius Messala)

Mother: Phoebe

Siblings: Rufus, a younger brother. 

Spouse: Unmarried

Children: None

Extended family: Unknown

Other: Unknown



52-65 AD

Her childhood was as good as a slave could get. Specifically, a slave like her. Rowdy and boisterous, with the tendency to get underfoot, Bretta was unruly in the way a proud senator’s son, not a slave girl, should be. Of course, she got punished whenever she did those things. A good slave was meant to be seen, not heard. To act, not think. Her tendency to question everything didn’t make her very popular with the other slaves and slave-children. She already knew who her father was since she was young, but he probably hated her if he didn’t claim her as his own. Whatever, she much preferred to stay with her mother and younger brother instead.

Outside of trying to get into the others’ good graces, which often conflicted with her irreverent nature, Bretta leaned in on other people’s conversations, back when being a small girl meant she went unnoticed, and learned. Languages were never her speciality, but she enjoyed listening to Greek anyway.

66-72 AD

Rufus and her shared a family resemblance, both in their facial features and in their minds. For Bretta, her intelligence manifested in her rational way of solving problems, not so much in her behavior. However, years of childhood training whittled down her rebellious tendencies, subduing the fire that always seemed to burn inside of her. Sometimes anger fueled it. Sometimes the desire to help. Sometimes jealousy. She certainly felt that a lot.

The world isn’t fair. It was only natural that her younger brother, Rufus, got special lessons on reading and writing from the big man of the house, while she didn’t. Sometimes he relayed his lessons to her. She didn’t listen to a lot of people, but she always listened to him. Rufus was soft. He was happy, giggly, eager to please. He dipped his head politely out of instinct whenever someone of higher status spoke to him, neatly kept all of his belongings in check. Bretta loves Rufus. Bretta doesn’t understand him.

Then, their mother died. She didn’t let herself cry. What was the point, if what happened already happened? Rufus still needed her. 

As for the incident that led to her being sold off to some cook in Rome? She doesn’t like to talk about it. Turned out messing with the seasonings in a stew served to one of the dominus’s hoity-toity military friends wasn’t the best thing to do. It wasn’t that action alone that led to her being sold, but a variety of quiet forms of rebellion, in addition with the dominus wanting to change out some slaves anyway, that culminated in such a fate. Rufus begged her not to leave. Bretta felt a deep pit of guilt. 

73-77 AD

Late at night, when she was with her brother, she used to listen to the other slaves tell stories about the glory of Rome, how impressive the city was. Naturally, she wasn’t too frightened when she was transported there, if not saddened by being separated from Rufus. When she saw the capital in all its glory, she was sorely disappointed. The entire establishment was a loud, fast-moving place full of filth and excrement, a sore departure from the farm in Paestum where she grew up. 

Few wanted her, until a man named Caius Lupus handed over some coins and soon put her to work learning how to cook his dishes. It wasn’t too bad, and she picked it up easily enough. Fry the meat here, add onions, put it on bread, and there you go, a meal. 

Years of being a frycook have hardened her arms and her mind. She may be the butt of a few old spinster jokes, but she’s proud of the work she does. In another life, she might have been a famous poet. Here, she can read numbers, work with them, but letters continue to escape her. Good enough, really. 

Now, if only she could find the rest of her family.


Insignia | PST | PMs, can ask for Discord


Edited by Insignia
added Rufus's completed app for reference
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