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Romani ite domum

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April, 77 AD

 With his sister in Rome, the city felt like it had changed. And now he could not just travel back to Germania, because he had to look out for Hilda and here in Rome, it was always the men who should look out for their female relations. Sure Hilda could look out for herself, but should she get into trouble, it would be Wulfric they’d want to talk to about it. So he had to stay with her. Even if he was really worried about his home now, after her refusing to stay with the tribe she’d married into. He understood why she left, but because of his upbringing and training with his grandfather, he also understood how bad it was, what she did. What it could cause. A strife between tribes.

 But for now, he was staying in Rome. Had informed the warehouse he’d still work for them, but he would also have to find a better home for him and Hilda. He was on his way home from work now, with all this on his mind and a bread with some kind of thick sauce poured into it, when a guy walking in his direction suddenly very much on purpose walked right into his shoulder. Knocking the food out of his hand. Wulfric stopped and yelled something at the man, and the man turned and stared at him.

 “You got a problem?” The guy said and Wulfric inhaled a breath, keeping his head high, “I lost my dinner. What is your problem?” He replied and the guy chuckled, “Oh the poor barbarian lost his dinner! Oh I am so sorry.” The guy was clearly being sarcastic, “Go home to where you came from, scum!” The man then continued and spat on the ground in front of Wulfric. Wulfric was shocked. He didn’t even know the guy! Why was he talking to him like that? “It is not your business. You go home.” Wulfric said and the guy let out a laugh and took a step closer, “Rome is my home. I was born here. You clearly weren’t. You can’t even speak properly.”

 Oh this was not what he needed today, but if he backed down and backed away, he would be seen as weak… and he was not. And he didn’t like being called a barbarian or a scum or being told he couldn’t speak properly… “I can! This is my home, n…” He didn’t get to say more, before the guy shoved him with both hands on his chest. So he was looking for a fight. Damn. He really didn't want to. But... Wulfric aimed his fist towards the other man’s jaw.


Edited by Atrice
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As someone who built her entire image on being a strange barbarian witch from faraway lands, Thessala was usually impervious to those Romans who hated barbarians for whatever reason. Also, most of them were smart enough not to pick a fight with the arena's resident gladiatrix witch. That, however, did not mean she was blind to such conflict. Or that she condoned it. She only caught the last part of the exchange, and the shove and the punch, but that was enough to stop her in her tracks.

The attacker staggered back from the punch, but it only seemed to rile him up. He must have had friends standing nearby, because someone was whistling and calling out encouragements. Thessala grinned, stalking onto the scene.

"What's this? Someone is itching to fight barbarians? Can I join in?"


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