Thalas
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Post by Thalas on Jun 22, 2011 14:48:17 GMT -5
OOC Note: Unfortunately, this thread is not open. Me and the other writer working on this are writing on Thalas' past, so much of it has "happened," meaning that certain events have to of occurred to make him who he is. It isn't perfectly planned out, but there is a rough idea we are working with in respect to historical dates and references. Though Thalas' name changed slowly over time from Thracius to Thalas, for sake of clarity the "old Thalas" will always be referred to as Thracius, where as the current day Thalas will be referred to as Thalas, since this thread will eventually be concerned with old Thalas returning to his past. Thalas' story takes place in Rome and we used historical references for the characters and who they were related to and what was going on socially and politically at the time. As is with all things historical, dates are debatable, but we may name some of them to give the story a more concrete feel to it. It isn't a declaration that those date are facts. FYI-- This information is meant to help those who read this thread to have a better understanding of what is going on and why. **Recall that BC dates go backwards. So a twenty year old man is born in 140BC and is twenty by 120BC. You may notice for some recent history books that BC (before Christ) as turned into BCE (before the common era) and AD has become CE (common era). **The story begins roughly 146 BC with the end of the third Punic war where Carthage is defeated by the Romans (many historians refer to this war as being more of a skirmish, since it didn't last long and the outcome was predictable ). After the second Punic War with Carthage, Cato the Elder decrees that "Carthage must be destroyed." The Romans launch into the third Punic War, destroy Carthage and enslave its people. Carthage was wealthy country which was liked and disliked for several reasons. First, the Carthaginians believed in child sacrifice for religious purposes (the Romans did animal sacrifices, but for more economically based purposes) and the Romans were disgusted with the behavior. Truthfully though, Carthage had a lot of material gain if they took it. Also, the Romans believed that if Carthage was left it would rebuild and another war would erupt. So they launched themselves into the third Punic war and Carthage was destroyed in 146 BC. This is a map, approximately before the third Punic war, to give you an idea of the location of the Carthaginians with respect to the Rojavascript:add(" ")mans. Rome is Red. Carthage is Blue. **Slavery, for the Romans, is somewhat different than on American standards. There is some ambiguity about how slavery was applied to the children of slaves. Many resources say that children of slaves were slaves themselves, others say they were born free. This lends us to believe it was at the discretion of the owner. There was also no racial implication behind being a slave. Slaves sometimes married into families, or became beloved members with beautiful tombs upon their death. Some slaves were treated poorly but overall owning a slave was a sign of status, an expensive investment, and not one that should be treated poorly. Also, if a slave could amass the money their owner paid to purchase them, they had the right to buy their own freedom. Point being that there were differences in Roman ideas of slaves and slavery than what American slavery was. ***This Storyline isn't about slavery, but slavery is in it. *** Despite the fact that there is a lot of history in this story, it is not historical fiction. In other words, this is not going to be a "what if" for some historical event. It's just being staged in a particular time period. ** What is the political system at the time? Right now it is still the Roman Republic, though this is taking place as the Republic is coming to an end. The Roman Empire won't start until Augustus in about 27 bc. The Roman Republic is a bit like our own government. There is the Senate, the Consul, the Tribune, ect (but those are the big ones). ** There is a mature warning for this story. While it is not intended to be graphic... war, slavery, vampires, etc, are graphic topics. You've been duly warned. For those with an interest in the story, this is a rough time line of major events that you may recognize and orient yourself with. *Elissa is of Carthage, Thalas/Thracius is of Rome. * 146-121 BC: The Gracchi Reforms *The Roman Empire was founded in 509 BC *When does our story take place in respect to Julius Caesar? He was around 100BC-44BC. Our story starts 146 BC, so about 54 years before Caesar is born. ** what about Spartacus and that revolt? That's 73-73 bc. *Decline of Roman Empire- This is up to much debate, but we use roughly 476 AD when Romulus Augustus, the last Emperor of the Western Roman Empire was deposed by Odoacer. What does this mean? Our story takes place during the classic, or golden years of Rome. There are a great many more details about the story going on that will be unveiled as it is written. It is involved with the other thread on this folder titled "Divining." If you have a question or an interest, feel free to PM me. ~Thalas Mun06/2009
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Thalas
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Post by Thalas on Jun 22, 2011 14:53:18 GMT -5
"Thracius!"
He is an olive skinned, young man. His thick, dark brown hair has many kinks in it and his skin is a soft olive tan in the sun. He is a young Patrician, Plebeians knew it by where he lived and what he wore, because those things in his life were finer than their's. For a Roman he was tall, his shoulders drawn back proudly and chin up. His mother had thought it was just the other day she had seen him draw on his white Toga, showing all that young Thracius had become a man and citizen. It had, in fact, been many, many days since that had happened. He had just taken several paces along the way to the market when he heard her call for him. When he turned he shielded his eyes from the sun and smiled at his mother
"Oh Thracius, word has just arrived."
"What is it?"
"Carthage has been destroyed! Your brother was victorious and soon they will be returning to Rome." When she spoke about his brother, Publius Cornelius Scipio Aemilianus, who everyone knew better by the name of Scipio Africanus (or just Scipio), she did it in a hushed way.
"Destroyed? Already? It's only been three years."
"They were still weak from their last battle. Your brother sent word to the consul and senate that Rome will be having the biggest supply of slaves and free labor that we've ever seen. Oh, Thracius, with additional labor our holdings will grow and grow beyond what we'd ever need ourselves. The gods have given us fortune."
He cracked a smile for her, under the sizzle of the sunlight and dipped down to embrace his mother and kiss her on the cheek. It was at times like that that he still seemed like her little boy.
"When are they due to arrive?"
"It's a long march back from Carthage. I imagine it will be many weeks. I did not know you wanted to see Scipio?"
"Scipio? No." Scipio and Thracius had no relationship to speak of, and though it sometimes seemed that his mother wished him to build a discreet connection, he did not. He looked over his shoulder, down the path which lead to the marketplace he had originally intended to go, "I am interested in the Carthaginians."
"Why would that be, my son?"
His eyes flashed down to her and he smiled, "Do you not recall that you would tell me over and over about Hannibal and Scipio? I wish to see what Hannibal would have looked like. I wish to see who the man was, that came from Africa with elephants, that had a strength that nearly rivaled our own empire. I know he won't be there, but it's his people, and in each of their faces I will know a little piece of his. You would tell me until I was asleep how Scipio, brave and righteous as he was, drove Hannibal from Rome and saved us all." His eyes were bright when he said this, and his voice lowered, "You told me that since we had the same father, I too, had a great and beautiful destiny."
"I did, I did! I wasn't lying to you when I said it." She brightened at him, stroking the side of his arm excitedly as she spoke, "And soon, oh, soon you will..."
"Soon?"
"Oh, I mustn't give it away. It was intended to be a gift from your father."
"What would Lucius Aemilius Paullus give me?"
It was hard for him to tell if she scoffed at him for referring to his father in the utmost formality, or if she was amused by the angle of his voice for doing it. "Oh, Thracius!! I had promised not to speak to you of it but your father sent me a discreet message but five days ago, while all were asleep in Rome. He told me that having Scipio become as successful as he was pleased him, but that he desired all of his bloodline to expand the arm of their power. He asked me if you had complete loyalty to him."
"You told him yes, of course, mother?"
"Of course," she did scoff at him then, before crouching lower as though it would muffle her voice for others to hear, "He'd bought you a seat at the senate!"
"You're not serious!!"
"I wouldn't make a joke about this! Are you prepared my son?"
The heat, that had seemed oppressive on him before when she'd first greeted him, lifted and his smile spread across his lips. His heat beat wildly in his chest, realizing that at his age, it was astonishing to get a seat at the Senate. He kissed his mother on the cheek, "It feels like I am sliding on the gloves that were made for me."
"Oh, Thracius... you are. Why do you not take one of the slaves with you to the market?"
"They are busy with more important chores. I'll be home quickly."
So it was that he parted ways with his mother, descending the downward roll of the street and into the congested pathways of the market. He could have hollered and sang for all the joy in his heart. The air was decidedly sweet and the marble statues, expertly painted, were teasing bookmarks of what he thought his future would look like when artists rendered it. The war had made the pockets of Rome fat and he held his breath at wondering what the sight of an entire country, enslaved, looked like when it was brought to the foot of Rome like a babe. Had they not gasped at Rome's superiority when they had taken some of its cities and seen what their artists and scholars could render? Did they tremble at the thought of Cato the Elder heralding for their destruction? He wasn't thirty, or forty, but twenty and wielding a power designed for a man much older. Fate and political restrictions had done nothing and it felt as though the gods had laid the ground work for his accomplishments to stand in equality with Alexander the Great's. _____________________________________________________________________________________________ The path ahead would be long, and arduous. No special concessions would be made for the slaves made to follow along. Some would die along the way, unable to keep up with the conquering Soldiers who dragged them along.
Chained like so much cattle.
Carthage lay behind them, a smoking cloud of ruin, death and destruction. Their lives forever changed by the greed of Men. The greed that was the Roman Empire. It wasn't their way of life that had brought them under fire. Sure enough Hannibal's unprecedented defeat and holding of most would bring them under the Romans attention and lust. The lands that where held as part of the Carthaginian Empire, their market, their trade routes, their wealth.. That is what would stir the greed.
Politics and greed....
She turned back at the tug on the chain that bound her wrists together, stumbling slightly before once more taking up the step of drudgery. One foot in front of the other. Keeping her silence, and her pain of loss from the cruel attention of the Soldiers. At night when the Soldiers finally called to rest.. would be another night fraught with fear. With hiding among the others in hopes they would not come to desire the need to taunt and play with the young girl of nobility.
Her Father, dead on the battlefield defending their falling city. Mother, dead at their hands, trying to save her children from those who would invade and take all they had owned. Her baby brother tossed into the streets and kicked under by their horses.
Ahead lay Rome, the city, the Empire. Her life assigned to one of servitude. Of loosing who she was, even her name, her station. Her life to them. Slave is what they would call her, to be bid upon on some auction block. Sold to the highest of bidders. Any chance she'd once had of happiness, of home, of family of her own. Gone..
Left in the ruins of her once fair and great city.
Where had their God's gone?
(( Rp exchange between Thalas and Elissa.)) 06/2009
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Thalas
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Post by Thalas on Jun 22, 2011 14:54:28 GMT -5
Often, he was the one going and fetching supplies for dinner. It was normally what one of their three slaves would do, but he had been looking for purposeful excuses to go into town.
His father had been pressing him lately. Already twenty, the boy had been informed by his father that they thought Rome, with the sudden burst of slaves, would soar to an even greater height than anyone expected. That to acquire more slaves would help assert his regal status but also help manage the greater tracks of land he would be ensured with this victory. To this, his father concluded, a wife was also necessary.
Thracius knew that his father wanted some women of high enough standing. So by day he would go to the market, lingering for several hours as he spoke with those that knew him. His eyes combed the crowds and there had been some... light, or weak and interesting prospects. Nothing impressive. Nothing wow.
When he tired of glancing over the same goods in baskets and with breasts, he dropped off the food and went to watch the soldiers spar for battle. Two of them he had known and played with in his youth.
"Go Rufus!" he called out at him. This did nothing short of distract his friend, who quickly took a hard hit to the chest that knocked him on the ground. Anyone that saw the events occur chuckled.
Rufus trotted up to him, winded with flush cheeks and sweat plastered hair, "I hope you have a funeral or a wedding or something important. What brings you?"
Thracius shrugged. There had been a division since their youth, with the realization that Thracius was a Patrician and Rufus was a Plebeian. The friendly banter between them had a small, underlying hostility. "I came to see what rank you were at these days."
He clapped his hand on his chest, eyebrows arching up, "Getting there. Is that it, Thracius? Have you not heard of the bigger news?"
"What, Carthage?"
"Yes."
He nodded several times, tilting his head to the side, "Did you fight the battle alongside them?"
"If you want to call it fighting, sure." he grunted and leaned against a post, "There wasn't much resistance when we got there so... you know. It was what, three years? What sort of real battle lasts three years? Carthage was weak and without Hannibal."
"I see." he glanced at his friend's arm, noticing new flesh marks but said nothing. He pushed off the post his friend was balanced on, "You'll be getting a slave then?"
"No," Rufus looked on the ground, his red hair glinting like copper and glitter as he kicked away a rock, "I haven't the money. Even with the war."
"Come with me tomorrow, I'll buy you one tomorrow and try to figure out the one I want."
Rufus shrugged at him, seeming indifferent at the offer before he fit his helmet back over his head, "Whatever you would like to do. I will be here, but I won't go so far as to expect you."
Thracius smiled at him, dancing steps backward before he twisted and ran off the way towards home. It would be good to spend time with Rufus, the man was a better judge of character than he and all their life, anything the man had thought about someone had seemed to always come true. That this man was a cheat, or this woman had disloyal tendencies. Rufus had that other something where he did more than read the motions of a body. He understood them. ______________________________________________________________________________________________ Rome, looked harsh in its terrible beauty. Sprawled like a fat King on his throne. Fearful where the steps she took as she drew ever nearer. That fear welling... growing into something near like panic.
Her heart pounded loudly in her ears, her blood seeming to zing in frantic pace. Those eyes darkening with fearful emotion, lowered as if unwilling to see her demise coming.
"Move it!", a prod of a spears butted end and harsh words to accompany it, causing her steps to stumble then pick up the speed. The Soldiers anxious to get to their homes, the family and friends who awaited them in glory.
The slaves however not so anxious. For they knew once past those gates, their lives would never be the same again.
Change, from cocoon to moth. From moth to dust. Once past those gates, their names, their identities no longer their own.
A faint sigh as the gates opened to welcome, but it wasn't they who felt that welcome. Those gates closing behind them like the cage it was.
Each slave released from shackle and chain. Each slave fitted with bracers upon their arms. Those braces would define them from that day forward until either death or freedom found them. Slave.
"Move along slave!" the blacksmith prodded, not too gently, but not too coldly. Perhaps for a moment her eyes met his, dark with fear and worry. Perhaps in that moment a flash of compassion, there by the grace of God go I. Perhaps he saw his own fate, what could have been. So in those thoughts perhaps he was not so cruel.
They milled about, assigned to groups. To stark cold pens that would hold them at night. They where given boundaries.
"You are to make yourself useful. Do as your ordered. Obey each command as if your life depended on it. For it very well may," the slaver intoned. His words sounded as if they had been practiced.
She looked to right, to left and saw nothing but more. More slaves.
"You may mill about the market. We want the good citizens to see what we have in stock!" Again the slaver spoke, this time his words had been cruel, a reminder of who they had become.
So into the crowd she wandered, lost, alone. Feeling isolated though surrounded by them. Romans. She could smell them, hear them, feel the heat of their bodies.
It was there in that crowd she saw him first. There had been the impression of wings, a flutter of noise that drew her lost gaze. It seemed for a moment that the sun shown upon him in favor. His hair dark, like rich mahogany. His eyes liquid as the smoothest of chocolates. "Roman" her mind sneered in contempt. But her heart, her heart it jumped in recognition. It turned in want.
Just then, their eyes met, light on dark. Held across that span of time, that sea of bodies moving twixt them. A gulf of legions keeping them separate.
"Move it slave!" a harsh hand at her back, shoving her aside. She stumbled and fell at the feet of Cruelty, raising a damp gaze to the Roman who'd shoved her down, twisting in time to avoid an aimed boot of another. They laughed raciously together, these two jackals, these two Romans. As if it where all just some great jest.
With a heavy sigh she pulled her robes around her, and rose to her feet. Turning back, but he was gone. A mirage, brought on by heat and stress perhaps. A wayward wish brought on by fear.
He was not going to save her, she'd imagined it all...
(( Rp exchange between Thalas and Elissa.)) 07/2009
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Thalas
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Post by Thalas on Jun 22, 2011 14:56:00 GMT -5
Where he is standing the sky is strange. Suddenly he realizes that the odd feeling he gets from the sky comes from all the stars missing in it. In their wake was a vast and complete darkness that, when he looked upon it, he felt was absolute. He thought it could consume him and he wouldn't know it. Without them there was a brief moment of feeling elated, unbound by consequences or honor. Just as swiftly his heart began to race with feelings of abandonment and frustration. He needed them to feel oriented in the chaos.
He realizes that he is walking down a strange street. When he reached out to rip a leaf off a tree, his hands look like bones. They're white and unyielding, the felt looking marbleized and unwelcoming on the bone. The leaf curls up, drying into a brown shell between his fingers then rapidly decays into a fine dust the wind began to pick at.
"Thracius? Are you still sleeping?"
"Mmmm... it's still morning."
"Yes, son, but you made plans to go to the market today. You don't want to get there when there are more people you had to bid against."
"I'm going, I'm going."
After he had cleaned and dressed himself and stooped down, securing his shoes. His mother came to him with a bag of money, smiling tenderly at him. One of her hands cupped his cheek to get his attention and once she had it she kissed him on the cheek. Her thumb smoothed over it and she shook her head gently like she couldn't believe her eyes.
"I can't believe you're already a man. Your father sent me this the other night. I had heard that you intended to buy a slave for Rufus? That's an enormous gift to be giving another." She handed the bag of coins to him.
His eyebrows arched upward and he shrugged indifferently, "Rufus is deserving, as well as being my friend. I want that I should have company for this and he will be enthusiastic if he has the opportunity to gain something of his own."
"Don't be wasteful, the gods don't smile on it." She kissed him again, on the forehead before he left.
The streets were already beginning to pick up momentum. When he found Rufus training he nodded duly to Thracius and began removing his armor. Together they walked towards the marketplace, Thracius smiling broadly while Rufus appeared concerned, his heavy brows lowered and sucking on his bottom lip.
"Ah!! We're here!" He clapped Rufus on the arm and darted ahead to where the platform was, "Aren't you excited?"
When goaded, Rufus smiled eventually, looking ahead at Thracius before his gaze shifted in respect to the slaves being quartered, "There are so many."
"Yea. Well..." Thracius knew he didn't have to tell a soldier of the Third Punic War that they had been the victors, that these were the well earned spoils. Rufus hadn't the cheer of victory about him.
"It's okay." He looked at Thracius and shrugged a bit, signaling with a nod towards the slaves which were visible. There were... many to choose from. Rufus' arms were crossed tight over his chest as he watched the ongoings. Then, "Must I be here?"
"Of course. I'm getting you one, remember?"
Rufus nodded not in a way that said he suddenly recalled, but that he had to reinforce why he was here or he'd be inclined to leave. His expression was a steadfast one.
Somewhere, between his conversation with Rufus and the crowd, his brown eyes darted over the people there. He noticed the men because they needed two more male servants to help manage the land outside. They were already starting their bids and he looked at Rufus and smiled at the fellow on the small rise of the platform.
"Him?"
Rufus shrugged.
"What about that one."
"Good enough."
"All right, that one." His hand went up for the bid. The slave on the platform turned his head slightly, gaze jumping between the bidders. He was trying to predict who would win. Could he handle more tragedy? He was surprisingly composed on the platform, but Thracius thought the man was more likely shocked into being docile. With his last bid the slave saw him and clearly could not intrepret Thracius and so he kept his eyes down and followed, duly as money was exchanged. The next slave was up.
When one of the male slaves came to the platform, Rufus' demeanor changed. Thracius saw his expression alter to one of recognition. The muscles of his jawline popped and he looked at Thracius and nodded. His voice held a tight conviction when he said, "That one."
"That one?" he lifted his hand to bid but looked back to Rufus, "But you don't have farm land? You're strong enough a man that you don't need assistance with anything anyway. He's not going to have much value for you?"
"I know. That one."
He bid again with a hand motion, eyes narrowed in scrutiny of Rufus, "Why that one?"
"He use to be a general. He'll be good for training exercises."
There was an unsettled feeling in his chest, the inkling that something unclear had occurred. He could not press Rufus any more than he already had. What was curious was that the slave... seemed to recognize Rufus as well. Their features changed when they looked at each other but he could not clearly understand what the twist of expression meant.
When the money was exchanged and the slave brought over, Rufus did not make eye contact with him. Instead he behaved as though the other man weren't standing off to his right at all.
"Thracius, let's go."
It was as his eyes filtered the crowd of slaves that he saw... her there, for the first time. She was looking in his direction, despondent, removed and afraid. It was in her that he saw, that he felt, that this was not a luxurious slave auction to attend. That this is what a country looked like when it was being disintegrated into the Romans. That he felt... the great pressure of remorse. He sucked in a breath.
"Thracius, come on."
He looked back at Rufus, but when he trid to find her again the crowd had swallowed what he saw and began to walk with Rufus, "I saw a woman that I want."
"A woman?"
"Yes. I think we're suppose to... eh, never mind." He could not explain himself and knew that Rufus was anxious to leave. Together they walked and though Thracius noticed the roughness and indifference with which Rufus treated the man he purchase, he did not ask question. Rufus walked with him home, to be sure that his slave would not cause him trouble. rufus wished his mother well, carrying a light but brief banter with her before he pressed on with his slave back to his own quarters.
The three of them retreated inside. His mother came around to look at the slave. Her hands traced his skin, looked at his eyes and teeth and muscle, then gave him a consoling rub on the outside of the arm, "Slave, do not be afraid. This is a good household with promise of a respectable future." When she talked about the future, she looked at Thracius.
He smiled at her when she spoke to him and the slave seemed to relax with the friendly atmosphere. He waved at his mother as he started for bed.
His mother looked at the new slave and smiled again, "Well, I suppose we should decide what to call you."
That night, he had trouble sleeping. That night he didn't dream, he just kept thinking about the woman he saw. It was not that she was unbelievably beautiful, or that he could have known anything about her personality or what she liked or if she had the all the Roman virtues that men praised when witnessed in the women. It was something else entirely. She had been attractive and frightened like many slaves he saw but when he looked at her...
... he saw the slave auction of the people of Carthage as an auction of the parts to a beautiful instrument, whose scattered pieces would never make beautiful music again.
(( Rp post by Thalas.)) 07/2009
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Thalas
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Post by Thalas on Jun 22, 2011 15:15:27 GMT -5
((Rped scene between Thalas and Elissa)) The stalls they where kept in at night was open to the elements. Each night they found their mass dwindling as the days of them being sold off one by one passed. Men and women kept separate, huddled against each other for warmth in the cool night air. For protection from the rains. Mornings would being early with the clatter of wood against their stall to wake them... She was beginning to make out a pattern, first to go where the lowborn, the elderly, the sickly. Then the older men, the generals and officers who had fought a losing battle.
"Get the jars filled at the well" came the guttural voiced command from the slaver as he shoved her along.
Others scurried about preparing the mornings feed. Feed was what you could call it. The food neither elaborate or even tasty. A faint, weary sigh escaped as she hefted one of the amphorae into her arms, its sleek foot barely the width of her arm, but the body of the jug, nearly rounder than she was.. it would be heavy to tote back. She could only pray that she would have some assistance once the chore was done. Keeping her eyes down, not wanting to draw attention to herself, she sidled through the crowds of Romans already gathering for a day at the market.
Today he going without Rufus. He had taken him with him the other day and had found that his company was not as cheerful as he expected. Rufus was distracted lately. Perhaps the war had taken a toll greater than he had wanted to admit, or perhaps he was still worn from the conflict and withdrawn. Thracius could not yet feel that they had grown apart.
Before leaving he kissed his mother on the cheek, "Would you do me a favor?" he asked her with a grin, "There's a slave I want for myself. If you or dad would give me the money for it." He asked like he didn't know that they would give it to him.
His mother seemed to smile and flinch at the same time, "What would you need a slave for yet? You are man enough of this house."
He sighed at her and shook his head, "This is for domestic matters, mother." To which she seemed more at ease with his request.
"All right, All right, I will send word. It will be a couple more days yet."
He kissed her on the cheek and shot for the door, calling after her, "Make it tomorrow if you know how!" He was already in large strides toward the market.
Her heart heavy, her stride reflecting it. Her mind replaying the images of a mother's son being torn from her arms and cast out into the streets. They had not wanted babies... she had attacked the soldier, falling on the sword he'd drawn. While she, Elissa, had hidden behind a curtain unable and too afraid to help. Tears blinked from the hazel eyes, made murky with emotion. Anger began to simmer inside. Before this, she had been a young noble woman in a house of standing. Her days spent in idle pursuits while servants saw to their every need. She had spent time with scholars and healers.. always learning. As she neared the well, and bent to set the jug down, it was then she spotted it.
Hyoscyamus niger, commonly known as Henbane. A plant that belonged to the nightshade family, its seeds could be highly poisonous if taken in a large enough quantity. It would not take many.. She glance behind her, then under the guise of assuring the foot of the amphorae was set right.. she plucked the plant and stashed it into a pocket. Perhaps there was a way out yet. She did not know if she would find the courage to use it. Straightening, she wrested the cap from the narrowed neck of the amphorae and turning away from it grasped the rope that would pull the bucket from the well... it was then she happened to cast her eyes upward, towards the rising sun, and again he appeared to be bathed by sunlight. It glinted off the hair that shot fire under its touch, such a deep dark brown, hiding so much heat. Unable to look away, she felt her gaze locking on his face as if to memorize the Man who seemed favored by the gods.
It was dry, the bits of dirt got kicked up and caught the light like glitter. His toga was blindingly white in the sun of the day. One of his hands went to his brow for shade, but he was still squinting. He stepped up to the slaver who, knowing Thracius either personally or by garb, yielded to him.
"Can I help you, young Patrican?"
He smiled, hands dropping to his hips as he squinted to look around, "Maybe. I wanted to see your female slaves."
The slaver did not register surprise, disapproval, or smirking to give way to what he thought. The man knew well enough that his opinion wasn't one to be tested with the metal of his clients. He walked him along the way and signaled for Thracius the women along the stretch, "There are some that were royalty, if that suits you. Some are fantastic cooks as well, if that's what you care for." The slaver called for their attention so that they should be at full respects for their guest.
She turned away when his course was obvious. Perhaps there was some despair in her eyes, the myth destroyed. He'd come to inspect the slaves. Just another Roman to gloat over the spoils. Setting her mind to the task of filling the bucket, hauling it up, emptying it into the amphorae. It took several buckets before the water spilled from the neck. The cap was then returned and she attempted to lift the filled jug. It took two attempts before she was able to get it up and balanced in her arms. Her steps wobbled as she took that first one, then the second, and soon began a sluggish and slow march back to the stalls.
The slaver was hesitant to leave him be, but Thracius signaled him to do so. There was no great violence to them. Yes, some had the heat of anger behind them, but they had no country to run back to. Nowhere to go but where they were now. That dissolved some of the potential acid of the situation. But where was she, anyway? Sold to some other person or perhaps he had only thought he'd seen her. A hopeful imaginings.
It was after some pacing that he noticed her, struggling with the jugs and seeing that none would help, he went to her. It was her, after all. He spoke in a rather offhand way, "You're not use to it, are you? Carrying the jugs I mean."
She stumbled to a stop as he spoke to her, and the amphorae sort of just squirted from the arms that tried valiantly to hold it against her, it seemed to hover a moment before it dropped like a stone to smash to the ground at his feet.
"Oh gods... " the gasp of shock and fear escaped she cringed back, certain she'd caught at least his toe under the jugs ill-fated landing.
"No... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... Its so heavy... I'm not," and the words tumbled to a halt as she took another step back her arms raised to shield her face. Surely she would get more than a shove from him. Already she could hear the Slaver cursing as he strode toward them at a brisk angry pace. The stick foisted in his hand...
It could have clipped the edge of his toenail, but the drop wasn't a complete surprise since he had seen them wobble under her hold. He had thought she would only ease them to the ground until they rested. They gushed, pouring over the sandy dirt. The Slaver was immediately up in arms with the violent crashing sound, hunting over to where they were.
He signaled to the slaver that he shouldn't be worried. It's fine, it's fine his hand motions reassured the slaver, who looked miffed at the prospect of losing Thracius as a buyer. To redirect his reaction he signaled down to the slave who'd broken the jug, "What about this one?"
The slaver was caught off guard by this, confused at the sudden change of the conversation's vein, "Her?" Thracius nodded, smiling broadly. The slaver scratched his head and looked from her to Thracius, "She came from a well to-do family."
She was frozen, her arms crossed over her face, waiting for a blow that never came, When the two began speaking of her as if she where not even there, she slowly lowered her arms. Hazel eyes made huge from fear seemed to swallow the pixie face. Her lips parted in surprise as they carried on a conversation over her like they where talking of a rug. So she simply stood there, rooted in place. And slowly the anger begin to rebuild itself as by their very words and actions they had relegated her to a species below themselves.
He tilted his head to the side at the man's indication and regarded her once more. Then his attention was back to the Slaver, "Can I purchase her now?"
The Slaver's eyes widened and he looked away, quickly shaking his head over and over as he said, "No no no, not now. This one is royalty and those bring us more in an auction, you know." He didn't want to refuse Thracius anything, but couldn't endanger his business.
He took the news well, dampened but still with resolve. He wet his lips, "When will you auction her?"
The man took a moment to consider the question and with a stick he had been using he waved blindly at the crowd, "There are so many, I am not sure. But I could have word sent on that day for you, if you would like. For a small fee, of course."
"Of course," he smiled fully as they clasped each other's wrist and leaned in for the back pat. The friendly agreement made swiftly. Pleased with what had transpired, the Slaver left Thracius to his own devices. Without the man for company his brown eyes measured over to her and he made the slight gesture of a smile, "Of what house were you of standing?"
By then she had worked up a full head of steam, angry at his cavalier ways. But then he was Roman.. "What matters to you Roman of what house I belonged to. You and the rest of your kind saw fit to destroy all that we where.. Like so much fodder beneath your feet. " She humphed softly as she bent to right the jugs, knowing she would have to refill them.
"It was the third war our countries had had," he imposes upon her in no smiling fashion, "You would have us fight forever until you were the victor, then you would say that that was the nature of war-- for others to lose." He stepped back when she bent down to get the jug near his feet, "And I ask because I have the right to know."
"Right?" she hissed as she righted herself once more, the amphorea once more cradled in her arms, and she turned away from him, to once more make that trudge back to the well, her peplos long since worn and faded from so many wears.. "It matters not, my house, long gone, my father dead on those very fields... my mother upon the sword of a coward come to steal her babies. Tell me, Roman, of your rights to my Past?" Her hazel eyes snapping, turning a darker shade of green as her gaze bore into his. "Tell me of rights.. have you not taken enough from me, that you now demand more? That which alone belongs to me? Ask the Slaver, for he seems to own that. "
She had momentarily taken the breath from him. He had for so long felt that everything was a luxury which was handed to him and now that she was denying him knowledge and flirtation he found himself wanting to press her further in frustration for doing that.
The moment of feeling befuddled passed and when he regained himself he spoke with a softer tone, "With the purchase I intend to make, I do have all your rights." He wet his lips and looked at the ground, "I want to know who you are." She spoke like royalty, her variation of words, the strength of her speech like she had commanded with it before.
With a flip of her head, the hair sent to dancing about her shoulders she stalked back to the well with him following behind. Rights indeed.. "My father was a general, he led many armies. We did not invade Rome, Rome invaded us. Ever greedy for what we had, We would have shared our wealth, our knowledge... " but the temper was waning, the steam abating in the air of calm about him. His words speaking of purchase made her nearly drop the amphorae again... she took deliberate care as she set it down once more. "Why? Why do you wish to purchase me?" she told herself the skipping of her heart was fear, and if she told herself it oft enough, perhaps she might even believe such.
There was so much she said which he could have met with acidic retort. He could have said that perhaps if Carthage had only burned more babies they would have been the victors. When the steam had left her, he found he could not say what her initial rigid tone had tempted him to. No, he had been tempered down when she had softened. When she asked him that he blinked at her and could only offer, "I don't know. I just... get the things I want."
"I see... so you want me? As what? Your concubine?" she sniffed, turning away as she began the arduous task of hauling the water up again.. "I am descendant of Queen Dido, and the Great Hannibal... and you would reduce me to your concubine?" was there perhaps mirth in her tone, or shock? Only she new the truth of it. She was scared. Afraid. "Or perhaps you have the need for some chamber maid? A whipping boy?" She slanted a look down his body before the eyes raised to meet his in challenge, "or perhaps you're like most of the Roman men... and have a fondness for boys?" She meant to insult, and perhaps to taunt. Or perhaps it was just a gauntlet for him to prove his manhood.
He chuckled at her spite and though it was not with the heart to mock her, it came off as such. Eyebrows arched up and he wet his lips before speaking, "I wonder if you lament so strongly for the tribes of people your nation swallows. Did you, yourself not have slaves while in power?" Chin up, "What is the way that any animal proves its dominance over the other?"
Well, he certainly had her there. "Ah but the nations we swallowed were the better for it. We did not destroy what they were, but simply added to them. Making them better in the eyes of Gods and man. Or wealth became theirs, our ways theirs. We did not destroy their cities. But rather built them better. As to your comment of animal... are you likening yourself then, Sir to the beast your countrymen have portrayed themselves to be?"
She no longer felt that fear, but instead a righteous indignation at his taunting. And in those words his challenge, too. She stepped closer to him, her eyes sparking with fire and passion... nearly pressed chest to chest.. Her heart pounding madly, "I am Elissa of Carthage.. and you would take that from me. My name, my lineage.. relegated to that of no more than a lowborn bastard. Would you care for me? When you slip that band of ownership upon my arm? Would you see to my needs, or would that be reversed?"
"No, to the beast that all mankind is," he responded and when she got close to him he smiled broadly at the first in her eyes. There was his look down along the way, like he were taking note of any watching their unusual interaction.
His heart was pounding wildly as his mind picked for answers, "A country of baby killers is the merciful one? You could instead consider this," he said, wetting his lips and looking down at her. Her fire, the way she bristled. He leaned back and smiled in something like admiration, "I can see why they feared a another war with Carthage."
(( Rp exchange betweenThalas and Elissa.)) 07/2009
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