SRP in ancient Rome...

[Apollo Wilde]

Olokun

Her limbs glowed like polished ebony under the torchlight.

The crushed red ochre had been applied to the palms of her hands and the soles of her feet, rather than all over like she usually did it. This was some high class affair - it meant she, even as the savage, had to look the part. Her form had been covered with shea butter and fragrant oils, and to top things off, the finest dusting of gold. Carefully she had sat next to a cistern, drawing the Egyptian lines with kohl about her eyes, gently smearing the ochre up to her eyebrows, further darkened with a bit of burnt twig. She went nude, save for a beaded belt, slung low on her waist.. From the belt hung two strips of vibrant white cloth - just enough to cover what needed to be hidden….and to tantalize further.

Distant chimes and lyres, and the ever pulsating drumbeat. She gave one last languid stretch, took a deep breath, and entered….

“The Fairest dancer in all of Numidia!” Called the announcer. Ha. The last thing she would be considered by this milk fed officials was fair. Her form was too hard - didn’t run in pale folds or had to be strapped in by a girdle.

Idle laughter and clapping as her feet tapped on the cool marble floor. Her head held down, she stared at the distorted blob of her face in her anklets. The same old noise, the same old people. As the music took on a fairly primitive beat, she shut out the sounds of everything else. Effortlessly dropping into a split, she dropped her torso, breasts lightly brushing against her knee. Bouncing for a five count, she swung her legs about, standing in a smooth pivot.

And as the drum beat got faster, so those red soles flew….

 

[Destiny]

Cassandra Aetius

The senator's wife was respected mostly, None of the slaves dared touch her. As for the sodden men that lay on couches and piloows they were more interested in the fondling fawning women that could be had eaiser. Cassandra was bumped by a man who looked at her bleary eyed and was about to grab her when his sodden mind realized who she was and turned to walk away and quickly grabbed upa apssing salve girl much to her delight. No she was rarely bothered at these social orgies.

As she looked over the gladiators and she noticed one staring at her, in fact looking her dead in the eye she gasped soflty and placed a hand to her throat. He had the look of a savage and that sent a soft chill through her body. He looked dangerous. Hell most of the gladiators looked dangerous to her. But this one seemed to fascinate her. SHe wasn't even thinking about why he had dared to look at her so openly. She moved a bit closer and the gaurds standing there moved a bit to the side as she looked at the humanity cluttering the pens where the gladiators could be viewed and bet on or against.

She noted the favorite of the arena what was his name. Oh yes The Vandal, for his horrible kills and his vandalism of their bodies after they were killed. Ten her eyes rested on the Slave/Gladiator that has dared to look at her so openly and she sipped at her wine slowly.

 

[Poganin]

OOC: The events in this story are taking place in AD 120 during the rule of Emperor Hadrian. Below are some reference links if you are unsure of some aspect of daily Roman life or simply curious. Nonetheless I urge everyone to take a look.

http://members.aol.com/Donnclass/Romelife.html

http://www.crystalinks.com/rome.html

 

[Armphid]

Ardal

The Roman woman's eyes had not left him. Though he had kept his gaze down, he could feel them still. Odd that she had come to the makeshift cell he and the other gladiators, witht he exception of The Vandal, had been placed. There wasn't much to the cell, a handful of men could have broken the wooden spars with little trouble, and the guards were old men, posted as a formality he suspected. No one would be foolish enough to cause trouble int he heart of Rome...every man in the cage had seen the city's fury vented before on those who had offended its sensabilities. The executions had been publis and quite messy. To think they called his people savages.

The music had changed, a pounding drum clearly heard over the lyres and pipes. The flickers of torchlight showed that someone was dancing, a fast, frentic beat that blocked the ruddy light, casting strange shadows into the courtyard in which he stood. Soft footsteps came closer to where he stood, her footsteps. The guards shuffled aside to allow her closer, and he saw now her shoes, and the hem her blue dress, trimmed with gold.

Curiosity overcoming his better judgement again, he raised his eyes, saw her gaze shift to The Vandal and then return to him. Her eyes were hard, a bright blue, and there was strength in them. She seemed as curious about him as he was about her. He stretched, the cloth over his torso going taunt as he did so. If he got whipped, then so be it, but he would risk speaking.

"If you wish to place a bet, My Lady, perhaps I can be of service." She started a bit as he spoke, likely not expecting him to dare to, or to speak Latin. His accent made the language a bit more musical, giving it an oddly charming lilt. "Forgive my rudeness, but I wonder why you are here...does the party please you not?"

 

[Destiny]

The Beast has a voice....

Her laugh was a musical tone that drew a few glances from the men milling about the caged off area. When they saw it was a free roman woman most of them moved away and made sure not to look at her. That the man she had been eyeing dared to speak to her, spoke volumes of his bearing.

His Latin was rustic at best and she shrugged as she spoke the gold of the gown rippling along her body as she spoke," It is a party to find pleasure, but I find no pleasure in writhing around on the floor with a man I barely know so that we can both amuse our neighbors and friends. " Why had she answered him? He was not worthy to even speak to her, yet there was something about him. "Tell me beast do you have a name, and how did you learn Latin? Are you one of those Savage Princes that are taught things of no value to you." Her voice was soft and light a tone musical to the ears and most men thought it was sexy or so she was told by the few maids she had that had lin with men that had visited her home.

"Also tell me why you decided you were good enough to look at me?" Her voice held a chill to it and she lifted the goblet to her lips once more to take a long drink of it and pass it to a serving girl nearby to refill.

 

[Armphid]

Ardal

He held her eyes for a moment, then dropped them so that his gaze rested at the level of her stomach. "My name is Ardal, Son of Cynan, though my...master calls me Invictis." "My father was chief of my clan, which does make me waht you would call a prince, free woman of Rome." This was dangerous...moreso than anything he had faced in the Colessium, but he would not back down from any Roman. "It does a captive well to know the language of his captors, and so I learned Latin in the years my master and I traveled the Empire, while I learned to be a gladiator." "To you my knowing it may have no value, but I know better than to think it has not benefited me." The otehr gladiators were nervous, edging away from him. The guards too shifted nervously on their feet, uncertain of what to do...who was this woman to so worry them?

He paused before considering the answer to her next question, but knowing he had to answer. "I felt eyes on me, woman of Rome, and wished to see who was watching." "That is why I looked at you, but not why I continued to." "You are one of a handful of people I have seen that show anything like the glory of Rome that is always talked about so much before we fight, and the only woman." "There is a hardness of will and a fire in your eyes that is as striking as your beauty, and so different than the others I have seen this night." He paused, adding as an afterthought, "If it displeases you, then I will pay the price." "But that is the true answer to your question." His posture reflected the honest pride and conviction of his words, not apologizing for his actions or the explanation. Now...what would this most surprising Roman make of this?

 

[Destiny]

Price to be paid...

If it displeases you, then I will pay the price."

All his flattery had been just that Flattery perhaps to keep her from doing something that in Rome she had every right to do.
"What Price would you pay, Ardal?" She surprised him perhaps by using his given name instead fo the one invoked by law that his Master had given him.

THe goblet of wine was returned to her and the slave girl paused and looked at the man standing there before the proud Roman beauty. "Hmmm seems to me they have not beat you enough or you do not care that the lash my bite your skin or you would be like these other men and moving away from me as well. Perhaps you arent' as smart as you would like to think? Or still you have not been punished in a proper way...?" She trailed off and looked at a gurad and pointed to the girl and," PLace a knife to her throat and wait until I give the signal." I didn't have the right to harm the girl I knew that, but he didn't. "Tell me Ardal, would it bother you to have this girl killed because you had dared speak to me?" I raised my hand the girl gasped and the guard grinned.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Olokun and Behedti

OOC: Thought I would add an eunuch…

Behedti has been with Olokun since he was about 15 - about six months after he was…‘fixed’. Since then, he has been her constant companion, and most trusted friend in the monochrome upper society of Rome. He is remotely fair-skinned, a warm tan. He is also fairly short - only about 5’4. However, his little frame is wiry, and he is no stranger to hard work. He tends to avoid to speaking to any other people outside of Olokun and her tribe members - the lechery of Roman officials and their mates has been wide-spread, and the last thing he wants is to return to the sordid life of a pleasure boy…
_________________________________________________

He sat patiently near the fire’s edge, his black eyes vibrant. How old could he be? Maybe just out of his early teens? Gifted with one of those perpetually young and innocent faces, he watched Olokun dance, a little smile on his full lips. He had traveled with her -yes!- all this way, and even before she had come to this end of the Empire. He had been a gift to her from a previous employer, some saggy official. “Imported” from Egypt, he had been just a child then….no older than she was, really. But, she had suffered what would be a burden, and kept him at her side! Not even as lowly as a slave - what he was trained to be. A slave, but a high born one, true enough. One that could be trusted with harems.

An eunuch.

Yes! He had suffered when he was younger, but not as bad as the others had. No, he just had his testicles merely crushed…and after he had become a man, so it wouldn’t hinder the rest of his body growth. Really, he thought he was no different from the other men…well, maybe less lecherous.

A fine hand went to rub his scalp, clean-shaven except for the topknot of silken black hair. Although, in truth, only royalty could really wear this style, the Pharaohs were losing their power in the face of this new, all encompassing empire. And it was much better than those scratchy dyed wool wigs. On both his arms were brass armbands, about his throat a brass, ivory, and lapis Egyptian necklace. Only his left ear was pierced - a large brass hoop catching the dull firelight. He wore a white multi-layered loincloth, held at his waist with a crimson band. His sandals were discarded close by - he loved the way the marble was cold under his feet….

His thoughts continued.

Although she had given him the option of adopting her own people’s ways, he insisted on his Egyptian look - it WAS who he was, after all. He had spent his younger years amid the burning sands - and it was often fatal to deny where one came from. He didn’t mind helping her crush the ochre, or oil her body, or holding her clothes. She told him that she needed no help, but else was he to do to pay for his staying with her? He certainly wasn’t trained to be lazy.

Her frantic dance ending, he quickly got to his feet, handing her a cup of water. With a faint smile, she took a deep gulp of it, panting. While she drank, he inched over to where he had laid down his sandals. From the darkness he produced a scimitar, and held it, waiting for her okay. Finishing the water, she wiped her forehead, and handed him the cup. Setting it down, he handed her the blade. The next dance she would perform would be one of the most difficult - but it also brought in the most gold.

“Thank you, Behedti….”

He nodded, with a wide smile. Taking the blade, she paced back to the main floor. Balancing the tip of it on her forehead, she took her free hand, and began to spin it, counterclockwise. Lifting delicately to one foot, she began to turn as well….clockwise. Lower lip was taken in as she concentrated. The smallest slip could be fatal….

 

[Armphid]

Ardal

Damn her! He had been expecting a beating, a flogging, but not this. He almost jerked up his head to fix her with a baleful glare, but restrained the motion. It would only make matters worse. He snarled quietly, cursing himself for forgetting that this place too, was a battlefield. "It would, free woman of Rome." "The insolence was mine, not hers." His hands clenched into fists before he forced them to relax, his stormy eyes raged as he kept his eyes properly down at her feet. "This one has served you well, it would be a crime to you both were you to kill her." "She has been a good slave and should not suffer for my pride, and her loss would deprive you of one who has been attentive to your needs."

He squared his shoulders, "I...I beg you to spare her." "I will bear any punishment you wish, if you will let her go." "As you order, so will I do." "My pride brought this about, so I offer it to you." He pushed frustration out of his voice, "If I have not been properly punished, then do so to me now." "I will not resist." It cost the young Celt much to say the words, knowing that his pride was lost, and likely his life as well. Still...it would be worth it if the girl was spared, that way he would still have his honor, if nothing else.

 

[Destiny]

A snap of the finger and a wave of the head sent the girl free to roam back along the courtyard, the guard nodded and resumed his post as he watched the young slave girl walking away thinking perhaps he would have her later.

"Ardal come now would the loss of such a creature have bothered you a man that knows know fear?" Her voice was soft and she took a step closer and she remained tall bringing her breasts up to his eye level now so that is what he saw as she spoke. "Tell me who is your Master Aradal and how is it you are a slave now, if you were trainign to be a gladiator anyway? Are they usually apprenticed into the school of gladiators?"

I stodd there and took a drink of my wine my eyes roaming over his body. And then before he could answer she remarks," BTW I could not have harmed the girl anyway she does not belong to me, but to ceasar's household. I was merely seeing if you were as compassionate as you were brave." Then a hand reaches up to caress along his arms a long manicured finger that slid along the indent of a muscle. "Tell me Ardal, do you always wish to be a slave?'

 

[Armphid]

Ardal

Yes, this place was a battlefield and he had lost this battle. She moved closer, her breasts coming into his field of vision. He felt his instincts stir at the sight, her bosom lush and full, a trail ofher raven hair along her cleavage contrasting her skin. The gladiator held his gaze as it was, unwilling to lower it from pride, and feeling it unwise to lift his eyes to hers.

He was readying to speak when she touched him, the caressing hand strangely cool. She smelled of jasmine, the exotic and unfamiliar scent filling his nose. "No, I do not." "Though I know that it is unlikely, I would like to be free again." "I will probably die on the sands before that happens, but only that will stop me." "I have been a slave for many years...and I have not been content with being in the service of my master, though it has allowed me to follow the path of the warrior as I had wished." "I know some slaves are pleased with thier masters and thier states, but I am not one of them." He didn't like to think that he could be. He would never have his will so broken.

He paused as the hand moved up to his shoulder, remembering distantly the day he had first been sold. "My master is Gaius Donatus, a trainer of gladiators, who purchased me from the prefect of Britania six years ago...I had been given to him as tribute by my father." A show of respect." "He trained me as we traveled the Empire with a few other slaves, my master working us up until he could bring us to Rome." "We have only been here for two months, and only two of my master's gladiators still live." "I belive my master plans to try and buy more slaves tonight, to train as he has me." He hesitated, aware of the danger in implying the ignorance of a Roman on anything. "Very few gladiators are free men, a handful of Romans eager for fame and those who have earned their freedom."

He let his eyes drift upward a bit, following the swell of her breasts back up to the beginnng of the smooth curve of her neck. "As for the girl, it would have been a stain on my honor had she been punished for my actions." "I am a slave...but I am the son of a chieftan, my honor is all I have left of that is my own." "Even if I did not feel sympathy for her, I would not risk harm to it, at any cost."

 

[Destiny]

Her slowly trails along the chest of the man before her and suddenly it is ripped away as a man moves closer to her. "How dare you insult me!" his voice was lowered but it was a hissed remark easily carried to the slave beside them both now. "How dare you flaunt your wants of a slave before my friends." His anger flared and the grip on her wrist made her drop the goblet of wine she carried. Tears stung her eyes as she took a deep breath and remarked," If you did not feel the need to swive every slave ass that crosed your lap, I would not need to look elsewhere for my 'entertainment'. As it was I was merely talking to him, I wanted to knwo why he had been staring at a girl so hard." She lied a bit and she swallowed and then whispers," Please Aegus your hurting me." Her voice was soft and the man released her almsot immediately and she began to rub the wrist.

"Ceasar is coming soon and I want you on your best behavior, you insulted him last time with your refusal of a simple kiss on his lips." The man beside her spoke. He finally looked up at Ardal and sneered slightly. He wasn't like the others, he was very well built and quite handsome in that feminine way a man can be. "Perhaps he can be sold to you and then you can have youe tryst in your villa in the country, but then be done with it...I will not have it said my wife cockulds me with slaves.."

"No but you don't mind them talking about the little boys and girls you buy for your pleasures,"her voice bitter. A slapp is delivered across her cheek and the man walks away. A slave girl rushes forward to begin to clean up of the spilt wine. Cassandra looks at the girl and then Ardal and she turns and begins to walk away. Her head held high she doesn't even reach up to caress the cheek that was slapped. Moving off towards a darker corner she leans against a pillar and closes her eyes trying to relax from her little argument with her husband.

 

[Armphid]

Ardal

The red maned Celt watched the departing man, anger and guilt gripping him. So that was her husband...though not by the choice of either, he judged. Now he knew the source of her strong will, of hte fire he had sensed behind her. It was so like his own. He was a slave of Rome, meant to die for the enjoyment of its citizens, but he defied his captivity by refusing to die. She was a slave of her marriage, of this powerful husband. She fought her role as wife as hard as she could, knowing she could not win...just as he knew he would die in the Colessium one day. Like him, she clung to her pride and her honor, the only things in her cage that were truly hers.

He watched her for a minute or two, allwoing her time to compose herself before looking down at the serving girl. "I think the lady could use some wine." The servant looked in the diretion the man had gone, then to the lady, and back to the wild haired young man. Then she nodded and darted off on silent feet to fill the goblet.

He walked toward the corner she stood in, her midnight black hair pillowing her head as she rested against the marble pillar. One of the guards took a step toward him, but Ardal halted the man with a glance. A trained gladiator was worth five legionaires...and this was no legionaire. Both of them knew it. "I will not leave you sight," Ardal growled, "nor do anything to disrupt the feast, if you stay out of my way." The man nodded, giving the younger man a look that indicated troubel if Ardal did other that as he said.

Ardal stopped several feet away from where the woman leaned againt the pillar. "The girl is bringing you more wine, lady of Rome." His voice was low, just a faint hint of sympathy is an otherwise neutral tone. He did not want to offend her pride. "Forgive my presumption, lady, I have caused you trouble."

 

[Destiny]

Cassandra Aetius

She leaned against the pillar as she sat on the bench her eyes closed the red mark along her cheek the onlything marring her otherwise beautiful visage and she laughed derisively as she shook her head,"my name is Cassandra." Her voice was filled with derision as she finally looked up and to her left where the man now stood att he side of her bench facing the crowd and not really looking at her.

"He was once a very kind and generous man. I don't know what happened to him." She began to say and then shook her head," What care you for the plight of your captors. I know how you all see us. The glory of room, look at them writhing on the couches fondling each other. The only reason he is not among them is that they are too old and well used. He likes them fresh and young and untouched. When they are finished with he gives them a bit of gold and sets them free. Whether they are in love or not with him. I have found several in the villa here in the city dead from poison."

The girl slave brings forth the cup of wine and bows as she looks back at Ardal and then towards the woman wondering what the two could perhaps have to talk about. She merely wandes away though unconcerned now with the plight of others.

"Do you see that girl there by the cistern two carafes, one for them and one for herself. She is like they are but they don't see it... She has two choices, resist the wine and give it only to them taking the water for herself. Or defy her master and drink the wine. We of Rome have those choices too. Drink from the life of Rome and prosper and forget your cares, or abstain and know that all around you will not last forever."

She lifted the glass to her lips and took a long healthy drink as she looked back up at the man standing tall as if guarding her bench,"Why should you care Ardal?"

 

[Poganin]

Quintus Cassius Cerranus

As Quintus waited for N'Abitha to bring him some wine he looked around, checking the familiar faces, registering the unfamiliar ones. A few bored wives here and there, roaming servants, Praetorian captains from different cohorts, senators, even a few rich citizens. Everyone wandered around the grounds or have already helped themselves to humble treats presented on the table. He noticed one strange thing though, there were also a few gladiators attending the feast. Was there a fight planned to entertain the guests? He certainly would enjoy a good duel but not here where blood could soil this carefully groomed garden.

His passing gaze noticed a huge gladiator standing alone to the side looking at him and for a moment they gazed at each other as if it were a contest of wills. Then the barbarian inclined his head. That one was good, Quintus recalled some of his fights and knew the man to be a ruthless fighter. Pity he was a barbarian, he'd probably make a great soldier. And Rome was in need of great soldiers because as Quintus heard the barbaric tribes in Britannia were giving them a hard time in the north. For the first time have they met such ferocity, half men half animals who painted their bodies in blue swirls and using only crude weaponry were able to repel any attack. They were even capable of mounting a counter-offensive had their lands been taken from them. It takes a barbarian to fight and utterly defeat a barbarian.

N'Abitha returned and handed him his wine and waited patiently for any next order he would utter. He tasted the liquid carefully, unsure if someone hadn't spiced it with poison but he didn't taste any known to him.

“The Fairest dancer in all of Numidia!” an announcer called somewhere deeper in the garden or maybe on a yard inside the mansion and a strange rhythm of a drum could be heard. He decided to take a look, always eager to try out a new form of art and entertainment.

"Go and find out where I will be seated when the feast starts. You are free to drink and roam about until that time. Once the gong rings come and find me to take me there." Quintus said to N'Abitha and walked away, passing the most curious pair in the courtyard. A rich woman, definitely, and here she was standing next to and talking to a gladiator. Well, nothing weird in itself, he was aware that women fancied muscled, battle scarred foreign men for fun... but thos two were actually talking. That was strange in itself. But the guards were nearby so there was no danger to any of the guests' lives.

Walking by he also noticed the silent presence of men who were neither servants nor official guests. They wandered here and there or stood inconspicuously in one place waching the guests. Surely they weren't spies, not in the open like that. But just in case Quintus checked if his sword leaves the scabbard smoothly and he actually saw one of those men start and become alert, glring at him in suspicion. Hmmm, they were probably meant to keep order but to whom were they answering.

He reached a small crowd that had gathered around a small arena in the middle of which a diminutive African girl was dancing... with a sword on her forehead. Now that was amazing, way better than regular dancers flailing their arms about pretending to move to whatever rhythm was available. This was foreign, exotic and very interesting. He would have to arrange a meeting with her owner or whoever was taking care of her. Such an occasion was not to be passed.

In the crowd, Quintus noticed who's presence explained the silent men eyeing the guests. A prefect, and not any prefect but Cassius Meridius himself. The Praetorian moved in his direction never letting his eyes move off the girl in the circle. He stood next to the prefect.

"An intersting performance, wouldn't you agree, prefect? But your men seem bored in here... Maybe when the wrestling contest starts they'd liven up... What do you think of this dancer?"

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Olokun and Behedti

Clapping eagerly, Behedti kept the beat, if not picked it up a bit. His legs itched for him to stand and to join into the wild movement, but it wasn’t wise. It seemed that the concept of a male dancing in such a free way…was…well, too savage. Either way, he greatly enjoyed it whenever he could. He was tempted to sing, but he knew that she wouldn’t want their language to be sullied by their surroundings. The happy songs of the plains were something to keep secret - their secret. Almost childish, but he enjoyed it as much as she did.

With a sudden dip of her head, Olokun let the sword drop from her forehead. Before the slick metal could touch the floor, she had spun around, her hands darting out. Clapping them on either side of the blade, she held it out to the small audience, further proving to them that she had caught it without injuring herself. Before they could humor her with their bored applause, she started up again, spinning and bounding, light as a gazelle.

The blade was tossed high in the air, only for her to catch it by the handle, and whip it sharply about. As if to show off her acrobatics, she paused for a brief moment, sword held confidently. Full lips parted as she made her strongly accented request, proving that yes, even a savage could learn the language…

“Will a gentleman lend me his sword….?”

 

[PhoenixPrime01]

He tires of standing and watching the besotted Romans fondling the slaves serving them and each other. He steps behind the pillar he was standing next to and emerges on the other side strolling slowly along paying more attention to the numerous slaves and how tolerated being handled that way by any whom they served wine or other things to.

He was surprised to find confined gladiators and guessed a mock battle or perhaps wrestling was on the program of entertainments for the evenings festivities.

A lovely slave kneel with two carafes at her side, one wine and water in the other. As he glass is again empty he stops before her and holds out his glass above her head so she'll have to raise it to see where to pour and give him a clear view of her face. Her profile was lovely, but partially obscured by her shining hair.

"Water please girl," he says in his deep rumbling voice.

 

[Destiny]

A voice form the nearby crowd called out,"Aye I will give ye a sword LAss, one to put between your thighs and make you scream out in pleasure." His ribald joke was heard and laughed at as he was clapped on the back and a few ladies tittered.

Cassandra wasimpressed. But she had been watching thegirl now as she waited for Ardal to answer her. She had been impressed by the movements of the girl and her lithe movements with the blade. Her eyes followed the people milling about and then she noticed Quintus finally. She had met him a few times but not often. Then she noticed the Prefect as well and she sighed a bit and stood to her feet. Taking another drink of her wine she moved a bit to watch to see if the girl got her sword or not.

 

[PhoenixPrime01]

The Vandal:

His height allowed him to see over the heads of those lolling about watching the black female sword dancer as he waited for the at his feet to pick up the water carafe.

'Now that one would be one to have at your side or back with a little training. Her speed, fluid movements, acrobatics, balance and reflexes would make her formidible with a large and strong, skilled partner,' he thinks to himself then looks down at the slave again.

 

[Poganin]

Quintus Cassius Cerranus -- the charming Praetorian

The dancer's exclamation broke through prefect's response, cutting him short in the middle of a sentence and Quintus looked to her again, astounded but pleased, that the girl could speak a civilised language. He was so amused that he skillfully unsheathed his sword with his left hand, his right holding a cup of wine.

"Here!" he shouted and parted the crowd handing the girl his gold-adorned parade sword, hilt forward with the blade only an inch from his biceps. He watched her take it, a small hint of defiance in her eyes and she accepted the weapon, and he returned to his place in the crowd next to Meridius. "I wonder what she's going to show us now?"

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Olokun and Behedti

At the remark, the young man got to his feet, his black eyes narrowing. As if to stop him from any rash action, she held her hand up, placing it on his bare chest. His facial expression fell, and he sulked back to the edge, taking his seat. Her kohl-darkened brows drew together, and she sniffed.

“I said a gentleman’s sword, not a little boy’s…” she spat back, truly virulent in the comment’s lack of emotion. She didn’t have any to waste on these fools.

The resulting hoots and hollers from the crowd drove the early heckler into silence.

Taking the blade with a dignified silence from the lord, she gave him a slight nod, mouth severe. It seemed as if smiling was something foreign to her. As skillfully as he had handed her the sword, she flipped it over her wrist. Tossing both the blades up into the air, breath was caught as she began to juggle them effortlessly. Left over right, right over left, high above her head, behind her back - there seemed to be no end to what she could do with the weapons, turned into playthings in her red-painted grasp. She leapt with the utmost of grace into the air, dropping into a split as both swords fell back to the earth - and both landed in her outstretched hands.

As she neared the end of her juggling act, her dark eyes flashed, as if to say she wasn’t quite finished yet. Placing both points of the swords onto her forehead, she rose from the split. The blades didn’t so much as slide as she rose. Closing her eyes, she let out a breath, and began to dance….slowly at first, but moving to a moderate pace, the swords balanced perfectly on her brow.

 

[~*fairywings*~]

Eliana

Eliana was startled by the rough voice and searched within her vision to find a cup to fill. But there was none. She hoped with all her heart that this Sir would not find it disrespectful for her to look up. A slave was not supposed to catch the gaze of anyone higher up than she.

Eliana tilted her head upwards revealing her face to the man who stood above her. Her eyes met his but for a mere second, her hair shifting so that her visage came into full view. Her skin was tanned in a lovely shade, her lips looked full and reddish in colour. Her face truly was as lovely as her body.

She saw the goblet held above her head and waited for the man, a gladiator from what she could see.........a gladiator!! Was this to be her new Master?.....She felt her heart suddenly beating faster as she waited for him to lower his glass so that she could fill it.

 

[stalwartone]

Cassius Meridius

"An interesting performance, wouldn't you agree, prefect? But your men seem bored in here... Maybe when the wrestling contest starts they'd liven up... What do you think of this dancer?"

Meridius nodded sagely in acknowldegement, keeping his professional demeanor, despite the enthusiastic dance going on before them. Many of the local women were making their availability known, but the prefect was steering clear of potential scandals. However, the dark skinned exotics that were brought in as personal attendents and performers were not considered as citizens, so any potential dalliances might be more possible. Still..

"My men are under orders to maintain the peace without being overly noticible. Although I doubt not that they'll have out their coins for betting when the contests do start."

He paused for a moment, allowing his attention to sweep the area, then returned to the nubile young dancer, admiring the sheen of perspiration on her features from the dance. When she paused, then shifted into a new dance, he checked the room again. Attention was on her, and emotions were obviously on the rise. His hand slipped to the pouch secured at his back, and he rested a finger on the sap that was carried there.

"I wonder what she's going to show us now?" The nobleman was obviously caught up as well with the woman, and with good reason. The blades she had been collecting began dancing in the air easily. Meridius narrowed his eyes, then kept his attention on her stance. There had been assassination attempts before by performers, and with weapons less noticible than a brace of swords. While she was most likely simply demonstrating her skills, one never knew..

"Hopefully, milord, something as graceful as herself." Meridius watched her move, but allowed himself a momentary admiration of her skills. If her people all had such grace and ease, the legions must have hard pressed against them. What heights could Rome reach if they could continue gaining such subject states?

"Is she alone, or are there more like her here tonight?"

 

[Poganin]

Quintus Cassius Cerranus

Quintus couldn't help but agree with the prefect, acknowledging the man's good artistic taste. Indded, the dancer was skilled and agile, her movements fluent and certain, her training impeccable. Yes, he would know who invited her here and would have an interesting conversation with that person.

"I sincerely hope that such interesting entertainment will be in abundance tonight. I find it a nice change from our local forms. Anyway, I see that you have a good eye for art, prefect. Why don't you come and visit me at home when you have some spare time? I would enjoy a conversation regarding art and forms of entertainment..." the Praetorian's voice trailed off, looking around.

"I wonder when they are going to start with the feast. It's taking too long tonight."

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Olokun and Behedti

The feast….

That would be the same time she would be allowed to rest. Rest, eat in isolation, and then go on again. Behedti knew the deal - more than likely he had taken care to prepare a meal before hand. She didn’t too much care for the richness of the Roman food - it made her sluggish. Hm. Had he brought the smoked beef and millet? They could eat in the cooling courtyard, away from the masses…

Arching her back downwards in a swift motion, the blades slipped from her forehead to her waiting hands. The scimitar was her own personal sword - and Behedti had been the one who trained her to use it. He himself had learned from the passing Moors…It would have made her a bit more comfortable if the young man was allowed to dance with her, but she didn’t want him falling prey to one of those vultures out there. He had been through enough to last him lifetimes, and as his caregiver…and mainly, his friend, she didn’t want to see it happen again.

Handing the scimitar back to Behedti, she stepped forward, the other blade in her hand. She hated these kinds. The scimitar had that nice curve on it….it was so elegant, as compared to this….sticks of metal.

“I thank you for the use of your sword, milord.” she said, her chest heaving as she caught her breath. The golden hilt was held out to him, her hands sure. Her voice held the same monotone, emotionless timbre, her eyebrows ever so slightly lifted.