Topic: 146 BC, Rome (Mature Content)

Thalas · Date: 2009-06-27 16:23 EST

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Thalas' story takes place in Rome and we used historical references for the characters and who they were related to and what was going on socially and politically at the time.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 Romans.

Rome is Red. Carthage is Blue.
http://usera.ImageCave.com/DKK2009/CarthageandRome.gif.jpg

**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 Mun

Thalas · Date: 2009-06-27 19:06 EST

"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.

Elissa of Carthage · Date: 2009-07-07 17:39 EST

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?

Thalas · Date: 2009-07-08 12:21 EST

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.

Elissa of Carthage · Date: 2009-07-08 14:34 EST

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...

Thalas · Date: 2009-07-10 12:15 EST

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.

Thalas · Date: 2009-07-16 01:53 EST

(( Log of an rped scene. My posts in blue, her's in green.))

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."

Thalas · Date: 2009-10-23 23:12 EST

It was nightfall and yet he couldn't forget the woman of Carthage. The one that had rage and passion and a multitude of expression behind her eyes. It was true what they said about people-- you could tell where someone was by mannerisms alone. Though there were fluctuations, of course, Romans had a way about them he could identify. A way that was absent with her. He saw it mostly in how set her shoulders were and the way she'd turn her neck when she spoke. That long, swan neck pouring from her head.

The bathhouses were lit and there were men drinking in groups and playing small gambling games to try to walk away without a tab. Night was good, he liked the way it felt on his skin. The days were parched, lately, but night seemed to forget that. Seemed to still render up some dew from its far recesses and sprinkle the evening sparsely.

Two men brushes past him and one, the third that followed behind the two, collided roughly against him.

"Hey!" He was quite nearly stumbling.

"Oh, I'm sorry," The man with the green eyes smiles, but it's like he's bearing his teeth, too.

"It's fine," but he felt like the man had knocked part of him out of his body. He began to wonder if he were on the verge of getting sick and the jolt had just brought that to the surface.

"Oh," the man's face changed and he reached out, grabbing his arm in a loose hold like an exciting idea grasped him, "I know who you are."

Thracius balked, but only for a moment. Mostly because he'd only begun the campaign to be senator, with his father's discreet support. Some knew him but... he didn't recognize the man who held his arm. The touch itself made him feel like an infant reigned in by the father. "I don't know that you do."

When the man grins it shows all his teeth, "Oh, I do. You're Thracius."

His breath caught for a moment in his lips. He wasn't sure if the man was a con or just a strange sort of person. Then, determined to show his political side he smiled, "I'm sure we had a delightful conversation."

"Oh, not like that," the man impressed on him, his cool hand dropping away, "You've just been on everyone's lips lately."

"I have?"

"Oh yes. You have." and he reached down to adjust his toga. It was... amazingly white. Piercingly white. And wrapped up well and sloppy somehow. That behind a sort of chaos was this delicate, orderly device.

He smiled like he were trying to shake off something odd, "I hope what they've been saying is good."

The man's smile doesn't move, "They say you're a handsome, but slightly strange man."

What was that suppose to mean? "Excuse me?"

The man lifted his hands up in a buffered apology seeing Thracius grow tense and insulted, "I mean, that you are an unusually curious person."

"Well, yes," and his eyebrows knit like the man were saying something stupid, "there is a lot I want to know."

"Don't we all." That was how the man bid him goodnight. A wave of his hand and that smile, so unchanging that it looked fake and strange, remaining there. It seemed he was going to catch up to the two men that trailed further and further ahead of him.

"Huh."

He stood there for a time, watching the man disappear down the road and wondering why he hadn't asked for him name. People were seeming so strange to him now. He was wondering if there were too many people in the cities. That the flux of slaves was somehow tainting personalities and behaviors.

That they would have been better if the slaves had never come at all.

Elissa of Carthage · Date: 2009-10-27 20:01 EST

(scene rped between Thalas and Elissa)

He thought it'd never rain. The dust was so dry he thought it was drawn to his mouth just to steal any moisture that was left. They kept saying it would rain tomorrow, tomorrow, but it hadn't yet. There was talk that if it didn't occur by the end of a week they'd open up a cow to see what it meant. There were still so many slaves not yet sold and he was beginning to wonder if Rome would always look inundated with people like this. He was suppose to go to the bath house today, his mother said it was important to water not just your insides with a drink, but the whole body. She told him he'd absorb more. As he walked down the street, however, his mind was not on indulging in the bath house. He knew he would cross the market and that somewhere in that market she was milling about. Or had to be. She wasn't going to even be put up for selling for a couple more days, he'd been told. Would he feel her venom when he passed by? Should he acknowledge her when he passed? He didn't know.

She'd filled the jugs, she'd swept the pens, but mostly she'd avoided the grabby Roman hands. She'd find herself oft lost in thoughts of him.. Would she see him again? And why did she care? She milled about, then moved to the well. It was then she spied him. Why did the sun seem to favor him so much. Though a dusty haze seemed to halo him. She found herself unable to break her gaze.

He thought it unavoidable to see if she were there. It was. He'd meant only to casually look over the market she was but when he did he could not lie that he had seen her eyes investigate him. His lips pressed in a line and an uncertainty clouded his chest. Steps slowed and he stopped outside the fence. It wasn't a great fence, not one that could actually keep someone. The slavers didn't have to fight hard to keep their slaves with them, not when there wasn't a home to go to. Not when you were in the heart of Rome itself and trying to run away. So he stopped and stared back at her, wondering what to say and trying to decide if there were any appropriate words at all.

Frozen as well, their eyes meeting across the distance. There was'nt a smile on her lips, nor a frown. She simply looked on. As if trapped in his dark gaze. Fidgeting, she shifted, and thus broke the hold. Glancing down almost shyly as she stepped away from the well.. Just one step. After all, where could she go? Fingers fiddled, she patted the secreted stash that was growing more each day. Still unsure if she'd take that drastic step. But relieved to have the option. She had to wonder, if they had met under better circumstances.. would they still have this rift between them.

"Hey." It doesn't sound like a greeting when he says it, but like a statement of acknowledging her. His head tilted slightly to the side and then he was the one that proposed the topic. "What was your name again?" It was clear he was referring to what she went by in Carthage. Was she from a large family? Or.. was there just no family left at all?

"Um.. Elissa.. " was all she offered, finding it rather strange that he did not simply address her as Slave, or you, or it.. or... she shifted from dainty foot to foot, her eyes sneaking up to meet his again and there it was, that zing of recognition and otherwise..

"Yes, but your family," he pressed her, one hand on the brace of the fence lace wall, but none of his weight leaned into it. He tilted his head to the side and observed her, wondering why she wouldn't answer him properly. Of Carthage, he knew. But he wondered for a woman so strict with her details why she wouldn't answer him. He's been told, already, that his curiosity was unusual.

She glanced away, then back, pride stiffening her backbone. She wondered if he realized how his questions about family where like knives of rememberance to her? "My family is no more, trod under by the Roman Warmongers.. I am Elissa of Carthate, descendant of Hannibal and Queen Dido, though perhaps distant cousin to both.. " She turned her gaze from him then, not wanting him to see the pain of it.

"Do you believe that, or are you telling me a fact?" It was strange that he could be so intent on her and yet unaffected when his actions were obviously brutal ones. His eyes studying her face, as much of it as he could even when it turned away from him.

Her eyes snapped back to him, narrowing with anger. "Figure it out for yourself" she sniffed the response and made as if to turn away. How dare he question her so brutally.. who did he think he was? Oh, that's right, he was her captor.. her goaler, her jailer.. and she hated him.. didn't she?

"I was just wondering if you were bluffing or if you were genuine," his voice sounded softer and more apathetic at the same time, "If you were forging royalty in the hopes that you wouldn't be used for the rougher tasks. That if you were a nobody in Carthage, atleast you'd be a slave somebody in Rome." and his hands pushed off the fence and he took a step along its length before looking back at her, "Do you think this is the only life we get?"

She growled softly "If you do not believe me, ask your slaver, for it is he who has the proof. As each was taken from a home and noted from which home they came from. From what rank they where." She muttered angrily in response, offended and in pain at the reminder that all she was, all she had was gone. But then his questions changed and she just blinked at him in suprise.. "the priests speak of afterlife.. Do not your own boast of Elisian Fields?" His switching of topics seemed so at odds, she was curious as to where he was going.

"You think I will go there!?" He laughed at the prospect and then looked away from her, "Most of us will go to that...semi-nothing state, I suppose. It's what we're told. It's only Achilles and those of his mold that go to the Elisian Fields," His gaze returned to her and he said with salted certainty, "I surely was not a soldier for any of Rome's wars. So what do you think? Do you believe that this is it and all there is?"

"Why does it matter to you what I think?" there was no rancor or anger in her question, just open curiosity. Though the anger at his previous questioning still simmered in her. She was intrigued by his line of questions.Was he just making small talk, or actually making a point. And why would he bother with a slave he intended to.. own?

There was only a shrug of his shoulders, "I'm curious, is all. Do you always spit venom when someone talks to you?" it was true. She was angry and though her life had changed entirely, perhaps he was the only one that she could focus her anger toward. He observed her, like someone does an exhibit and wondered if her dislike for him *was* personal, but that he lacked the ability to know why, "Would you rather I leave?"

At that she arched a brow, the deep green/hazel eyes intent on him. Her manner was regal. With the slight upward tilt of her head, he was much much taller than her slight frame. Made her feel dwarfed by his stature. But there was more to intimidate her. The fact that about her arms where the copper bands which marked her as slave. That his country had decimated hers. That any wrong move on her part could well end in disaster for her. "What do you care what I want, or how I speak? Does it matter much in the life of a Freeman?" she turned her gaze downward, Not sure what she wanted to be honest. "what do you want from me?"

"I like you," and the admitting of it sounds defeated and vulnerable. Like she had stabbed him with his words and weakly he answered some emotion she put down to die. There was no smile or snicker, but a sigh as though he'd grown weary of trying to convince her of doing anything other than hating him. He looked away, squinting through the sun at the kicked up dirt and remarking, "It's getting late." *

That gave her pause and she did stop to analyze them. Watching him curiously.. "why?" the single word, single question hung on the hot air between them. Then at his next comment, she sensed she'd pushed him aside with her acerbic tongue. She felt an almost desperate need to keep him with her. Even for only a few moments more. For a short time she did not feel like a slave, she did not feel homeless and powerless. She felt alive when he was there. But she bit her tongue to keep from begging him to remain. Pride would not allow it.. So in the end she said nothing to his comment of the lateness of the hour, Simply watched him.

"I don't know." It was a weak explanation, but the only one he could give her, currently. That he couldn't tell her why red fades before blue or why the sky itself was blue. Just that it was and he could go no further with his understanding of it. Perhaps only an initial attraction. Perhaps something shallow, carnal, and to be tossed aside as quickly as it came. His feet were pausing in the way they had come to turn away from her and back towards the bathhouses, "Why do you care?"

She laughed at his question. Sure the situation was hardly laughable but for some reason, the fact that he threw her question back in the same manner struck her as funny. It felt good to laugh. The merry sounds of her laughter pealed out softly. Not a giggle, but a full bodied laugh. "Well looks like, we both have some unanswered questions no?" she could not help the question, and it brought on another fit of laughter. The eyes dancing with the suddenly found hilarity. And then abruptly the laughter ceased. Her face falling, the lips that had for a brief time turned up, once more fell down. She glanced bout her, wondering if any had noticed. Would they think her crass for finding fun in such a dire situation? Sadness became the mantle once more worn. Sobering her expression once more..

Her laugh makes a grin spread over his face and both of them agree that they are standing stupidly, digging at the ground for answers that neither is providing the other. They had certainly earned some looks, but most people didn't make it a habit to stare. Staring is what got you in trouble. Eyebrows arched upward and he said with the tenderness a young man does for a girl he awkwardly courts, "I'd like to know if I could visit you tonight?" of course, not in that sense, seeing as it wasn't all together possible. Well, it was possible, but clearly he meant that he didn't want them to have an audience every time they spoke.*

That shocked her, that he would ask, that he would give her that choice. She felt a flush of pleasure, and again glanced about.. before looking up into his dark eyes.. "I.. I'll .. I'd like that.. " the words stumbled from her lips awkwardly. Shyly her gaze dropped, a pretty blush stealing into her cheeks.

His smile flashes at her blush and his confidence peaks. Then, he did as all well-tuned boys do. He smiled and left. Left her to think upon their agreement as he shot off to meet up with Rufus at the bathhouses. The sun is a bright disk in the sky and the ground was still crying, and crying that there was the hope that rain would come.

Thalas · Date: 2009-10-27 22:07 EST

(Scene rped between Thalas and Elissa)

The night was soft, warm, comfortable even. A soft breeze brushed the stilted air, giving a mist of cool to those sleeping or trying to. The slaver had allowed the slaves to bath in the river, to wash their clothing. Her peoples had seen better days, but at least the water was clean. Each gender had been given turns at the river. Guards posted around for the safety of the women. After all, wouldn't do for one of the stock to be taken or injured. Her hair had been softer at a time when she had shampoos and oils to groom it with. But it was clean. The river sand did wonders for accumulated dirt. She was nervously pacing along the now empty market square. Wondering if the slaver had noted her absence when she had gone to the market and waited, nervously, for his arrival.

The night was far from going as planned. He had approached his mother before nightfall about the prospect of marriage. That he had met someone he thought showed promise. She had been elated initially, but after inquiring and him explaining who the young woman was, she showed a harsh disappointment. Her lips shriveled up in little swears and then, unexpectedly, relaxing into a smile as she apologized for not realizing his genius. He stood, dumbfounded, as she explained that after having burned Carthage to the ground there were plans to rebuild it. With his seat as a Senator a practical certainty, and having a fallen Carthaginian princess for a wife, he would be an opponent no one could withstand. This had displeased him-- his mother had somehow taken an emotion and feeling he thought above politics and had turned it into political leverage. He'd left her then, leaving her with that shocked expression as he went into the desert-city Rome, feeling his sincerity would be forever cheapened by her.

She had stood there in the marketplace, waiting and waiting. After awhile she thought he wasn't coming and chided herself and the efforts she took to escape, unnoticed, from the masses of sleeping slaves. Just as the last bit of her patience died out she saw him approaching. She was excited, but noticed that there was something amiss to him and asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing's wrong," and he was shaking off the last of his mother's words as he stopped in front of her, hands wrapped around her shoulders, "Do you know who I am, Elissa?" and he said it like a demand. Like he had been lied to on several accounts and asked only that she be honest with him or, like a moth, crushed between his hands.

She frowned.. tensing under his grip "I don't even know your name. You have yet to give me such... " Her eyes snapped up to meet his, wondering at his pensive mood.

"Thracius." he impressed upon her and then he said, his hands still imprisoning her, "I am to be a Senator, soon. Did you know that?" Like she had been plotting, playing him for a power climb out of slavery.

Her arms crossed, her hands wrapped around each of his wrists.. "How would I know this, Thracius? When until this moment I did not even know your name? And why would it matter to me if you where king or pauper? I am still just a slave to you... "

"Because it wouldn't be the first time a slave seduced a man and achieved a greater fame," and his hands hands relaxed like he realized how much he was pouring into her and pressuring her with what he said. He regarded her again more softly, "Or just... how any woman does with a man who has what they want, actually."

At his words she yanked herself free.. "How dare you... You asked me to meet you. I did not ask you! You would accuse me of nefarious means? For what gain? To be more than just cattle to you?" Offended, hurt, and kicking herself for entertaining the thought that she might have found an alley in him.. She turned her back to him. "Go, then, if those are your thoughts!"She would not beg him to stay. No amount of comfort was worth the accusation.

"It's just..." and then he spun her, yanked her over to him and kissed her. He didn't care if she slapped him or screamed. Or hated him for it. Just that there should be something greater than what his poor articulation had to offer. Something more poetic than groping around in the dark for a way to say that wasn't what he meant. If barbarically trespassing his lips to her's did not speak of his great affection and relief at her reaction he thought not even Homer could have swayed her with his stories.

She gasped sharply, the diatribe on the tip of her tongue, she was spun and fell against him with such feral intent. That the words that had ached to spill became lost. Hands came to press against his chest. Her eyes widening in shock, then closing as his kiss pressed so harshly her lips melted the anger he'd stirred. A soft moan came from some hidden alcove inside. Her mind going blank under the heat of their first kiss.

His eyes had shut at first, like something painful were going to happen but when he felt her frame relax and sway against him, his expression relaxed, softened. Lips said only what they could understand as the language of lips and hunger moved against each other. His tongue brushing her's and suddenly realizing how naked and bare the two of the were, exposed like on an open field, in the middle of the market. The cool gust of wind occurs to him and suddenly, like a dream he feels the mist-like rain begin to drop its curtain on the dry demands of Rome.

She did not feel the soft mist of rain begin, she felt only the heat of his body against hers. His lips and tongue igniting the need for more. She pressed closer. And for her, it was not as if they were exposed but instead the world had shrunk so it as only just the two of them left. In their own time, their own place, their own world.

It was like the rain put out the city. When his lips broke from her's it was to look away, down the street like to catch if anyone were looking. Wet hand holding her's and then hurrying, pulling her along those few yards to the side of a building that offered only a shoulder-shrugging cover from the rain but mostly, out of view from the two large, intersecting cobbled streets which encouraged traffic to the market. The rain blocked out the stars and what would have been a more massive moonlight. He could feel dirt turn to mud and ease up past the edge of his sandal when he pressed her back against the building and kissed her again.

A whirlwind of time, movement and emotion. All assailed her at once. A rush of feet, of skipping hearts then stone at her back, his body shielding hers from the rain, his lips once more on hers. Her hands sliding up his chest to embrace him in her arms. The pound of her heart, the soft moan of surrender. Anger, sadness, loneliness forgotten in the shadow of his hot kiss.

His forehead against her's, hands cupping the sides of her face as he sighs, almost unheard on the new fall of the rain jumping off everything it strikes. The dust rising first in protest and now the air and everything it had been choking begins to breath freely and grow clear, like the cough about the city were finally gone. The cobblestones shine like new. He exhales again and looks at her, his thumb smoothing over her cheek, "I've never met anyone like you before."

She gasped softly as he released her to breath, their panting breaths mingling on the cooler air between them. Her eyes closed as she felt the frame of his hands, the brush of his thumb against the smooth skin. "Nor I, you Thracius," she murmured in response, her hands soft as they slid back down his chest. A gentle shiver racing over her, part cold, part internal heat. Doubts were not given time to take root. Worries were pushed aside for now. There was just him, just her, and the soft patter of rain around them.

"Would you have me?" he said, in the private way men do when they are alone with a woman. The way a general asked his intended bride to have him. Gently, but also, asking when they already knew the answer. Asking as a show of some yielding, of some giving to them what was sacred to have as a man-- power. Had Cleopatra already been printed men would have thought the rouse was up and they were had. Perhaps a sooner feminist movement would have occurred. But now the world was still quiet under the guise of complete male domination. In many instances, still just domination. But these were the private times between lips and bodies that asked, gently, that they be allowed. Certainly a man knew he could take whatever he wanted, but to be allowed, requested and desired? That was of the more cunning stuff.

They say the youth are full of brash impulse, but it felt not like such a thing. It felt like homecoming, like a resolution, like safety, and perhaps this was love. "Yes... yes Thracius" though she acquiesced, she did not follow with her thoughts, the dark and dire knowledge that in a few days time she would be sold. To the highest bidder she would belong. If he failed they'd be lost forever, and she would not stand to be touched by another. She did not tell him her plans, but instead wanted, needed to take this moment of sunshine in the gloom, this time of happiness in an overwhelming pall of pain and sadness. She grasped it with both hands and again "Yes I will," she murmured to him softly in that rain soaked night.

With her permission they're thrown on the grown in the rain and wet and crawling mud which would only weakly hide their bodies in the dark. He could feel his elbows, either side of her ribs, press into the hard sand of a packed ground underneath. She smelled exotic and her eyes weren't like a Roman woman's eyes. They did not speak of comfort and laughing victory but were the burning ruins of Carthage he was devouring with his lips. Lapping up skin wet with sweat and rain and the copper of ground.

Thalas · Date: 2009-10-30 12:02 EST

All the world was laughing and singing, the hour was not too late. There had been another celebration for, well, nothing in particular but the glory of Rome. The streets looked like they could sweat wine and he was crossing the cobblestones with a tender half smile.

Since the rain, the air was soft and gentle. It no longer felt like the gods were watching them bake but instead were nursing them the way a woman does her garden. Wanting them to be robust and laughing. He thought the whole world was laughing.

Rather suddenly from the tavern her heard a voice. It wasn't an unusual voice but he felt it strike him. He recalled it from the night before as the man he had bumped into. The man with green eyes and a smile that looked like he was eating glass. He stopped outside the doorway and looked in, wondering if he would see him there.

Around a table he was there with four other men, laughing. His glass full of wine and theirs too, like they had just filled them up again. He wasn't a Roman, he could tell but his garb and the way the others responded to him. They liked him, still, as much as anyone can fold an outsider into their hand and feel that they are the same. The men around him wanted to be like him and waited with baited breaths on the next thing he'd say. Thracius wondered if anyone ever felt like that when he spoke.

"Oh, young Thracius." His smile is divinely sharp and he signals him to join him. He felt he couldn't say no, that if he denied the man like this infront of his friends that it would be an issue.

"Good evening." He moved in and made himself smile but did not sit at their table, "I see there is much celebration."

"Oh yes," he leans back some, tilting his head to the side as he looks up at Thracius, "I've a rare shipment of goods which will make me a very wealthy man."

He blinked. "What goods?"

"Oh," he said with a chuckle like he were dismissing the important information as nothing, "You know."

"I don't. What've you brought to Rome with you?"

There was a short pause. That Thracius had pressed him too much, demanded too much a straight answer and his smile fell off his lips and he responded to him in a firmer tone, "Some silks. Some dyes. Some animals."

"Oh," he took a step back and looked at the ground as if realizing he had damaged the jovial tone of the man and his company. One of them spoke up and shared a crude joke which got all their laughter going again. Thracius looked over his shoulder at the door, keen on his departure.

"Gifts which would be ideal for a lady love." The green eyes told him.

"Huh?" and he looked at him like he was caught but smiled in general at the statement, "Do women so much like a gift?"

"Sure, sure," he said with a smile, looking at his company and elbowing him to explain to the youth. The bearded man chuckled and looked from the merchant to Thracius and said, "Don't you know a woman needs some object to hold onto when you're not there? It's like a reminder and a reassurance for them. That the money you waste your life to get you give to them so in some way they'll own part of you you can't get back."

He wrinkled his nose, "It seems unnecessary."

"Look at this boy," the bearded man laughs, "you can tell he's new and young to love! When is it not that a woman doesn't want to be adored and also show off how much she is adored to others?"

Thracius sighed and looked away again. The green eyed man lifted up his hand to beckon him to stay, "Have you a woman in mind?"

This statement had everyone's interest. It was well known that Thracius would soon be a senator. That somehow he was groomed for it and there were whispers why, but only whispers. If he were unavailable for women, well, that was something Rome wanted to know. He smiled slowly and nodded to the green eyed man.

"You know, young Thracius, I may have just the thing for you. Come with me."

He left the tavern with the man and as they walked he said, "I don't know what to call you, merchant."

"Mattaki," he said with distraction, his eyes filtering around him and then he smiled at Thracius in a way he'd never had a man, or person, smile at him before. Oddly, but not so much that he could say anything of it. He thought the man strange and that, well, outsiders must have been just as unusual.

"Where are we going?"

"Here," and it's a lean-to set up on the outskirts where he goods are that he's going to sell. There were two men helping keep watch and take care. There was a zebra and two monkeys. Some strange looking fruit and boxes which, he guessed, had the silks Mattaki had boasted. He stood at the mouth of the cloth enclosure and waited for Mattaki to reemerge.

He did so with a box, which he offered for Thracius, "It's a small creature, affordable and yet delicate like jewelry. Do you know what a metamorphosis is?"

"What?" he put one hand on the box but Mattaki was still holding it firmly, his eyes lit on him.

"It's when a creature goes through a sleep and its body changes into something else. Something more beautiful and magnificent," he seemed to be leaning towards him and it was making him take a step back. When was the last time Mattaki had blinked?

"Is that what this is?"

http://usera.ImageCave.com/DKK2009/LunaCocoon.jpg

"It's a shell, Thracius, and in it is a bug that once looked much like a millipede that will crawl out with amazing, bright green wings. It is a beautiful nocturnal creature."

"Nocturnal?"

"Yes," Mattaki's hold seemed to lessen on the box and Thracius was able to take it from him and open it. From what Mattaki had said he expected something more elaborate and beautiful. There was, instead, a small grey brown bud on a leaf that looked uninteresting. Mattaki continued, "It will wake during the night as this new, beautiful creature."

"Seriously?" he felt he was being cheated for money.

"Oh yes." He smiled again, that glass-eating smile and clapped Thracius on the shoulder, "I will allow you to pay me once you see the results yourself. As a gesture of faith, you know. I was much like you once. Doubtful of metamorphosis. Doubtful of beautiful, nocturnal things. You'll see, you'll be amazed and come to me with more money than what I would have asked you will be so mesmerized. Now!" he clapped Thracius again, "Isn't it about time you saw this lady love of yours?"

"Er, right. Thanks, Mattaki." He struggled around the unusual named, smiled nervously and hurried away. Towards the marketplace where Elissa had already been waiting. He shouldn't have let the man with green eyes distract him so much. How had he done that?

Thalas · Date: 2009-10-30 12:09 EST

(scene rped between Thalas and Elessa)

Last night passed in a blur of passion, a slide of skin, slicked with need. A moan of pleasure, a sigh of contentment. It passed with comfort and even... love. The morning found them scrambling to dress, to right themselves. He had to head home to sneak in before dawn woke his mother and she was hunting for a vantage point to sneak back into the group of slaves as they came out for morning chores and to break their fast.The day was spent avoiding the stares, some of them knowing, others disgruntled. But the slaver seemed none the wiser. And again come night she found a place to secret away, to wait for his return. Though he did not say he would be back, she'd hoped..

Nightfall was good for them. Fewer people awake, fewer people selling anything. When he arrived it was with a strange box and a wide-eyed expression. Like a ghost had crawled into his bones and left him both surprised and startled. But when he saw her the color returned and his smile was that of a broad and happy youth's. It was often that the philosophers talked of love and passion and his own experience, now, made what they said so much more valid and real to him. Gone, now, was his scoffing at what they said could move a man. He wets his lips before he began to speak, "How long have you been waiting?"

Almost shyly, she returns his smile, stepping from the shadow to be closer to him, then drawing him with her back to the shadowed alcove. "Since sundown" she whispered, curious as to what he held in his hands. "Are you ok? You seemed on edge but a moment ago.. " though there was some relief in knowing that the sight of her had visibly lifted his spirits.

"Sundown?" like a dry whisper and then he smiles. When she asks him how he is he dismissed the feeling in his stomach with a shake of his head and a refreshed smile. Eyebrows arched up, "I was thinking," and then he stepped several paces from the limelight area of the marketplace, "that you deserved some token of my earnest affection for you. Some... proof other than words." She could have resisted the decision, but he was already going to shake his head no at her refusal and that this gesture was decidedly important to him.

Indeed her initial reaction was to deny him, but she could see he was adamant about it. So she smiled softly, no one had ever given her a gift outside of her family. It touched her that he was doing so, even if his presentation came across a bit awkward and earnest.. "What is it?" her eyes danced with merriment, and affection for this young man standing so eager before her.

"You must be careful with it. I don't think I could get another," he admitted and then slid open the box to reveal leaves and, well, a very unimpressive lump of grey and brown. Before her eyes could rise and fall he said, "Do you know what metamorphosis means?"

She glances at it curiously and with some wonder and nods. "It is a cocoon.. what is it Thracius?"

"I was told," he explained, though looked to be half believing of it himself, "That these centipede creatures eat and eat and then spin this shell around themselves and after a couple days they crawl out but when they do," one hand holding the box, the other a closed fist that opens up, "They're completely different. They're beautiful and can fly and are this totally other creature. I thought when we were together that maybe," he shrugged his shoulders with a boyish uncertainty, "I dunno. That maybe you'd feel like that about us."

His words touched her and she leaned over the cage impulsively to brush a kiss against his cheek. "I do, I feel like a brand new person around you Thracius.. " again she glances down and reaches to tentatively brush the cocoon. "Oh it's soft..." said in wonder.

"Careful," he advised her touch and then slid the lid back over it and smiled, leaning in to kiss her shortly and smile, "You have much reason to doubt me when you are alone and I'm not there. I just wanted to give you something that would ease it. Help... keep your faith I guess." and then his posture returned and his eyes studied her longer. He wondered if the creature would be as fantastic as promised or, perhaps, a cheap promise. It was rather like holding his breath in hope.

She placed her hand over his, where it rested upon the box's lid... her eyes seeking his intently. "It is a lovely, thoughtful gift Thracius, thank you. I will take very good care of this gift". Then a soft sigh for the future could not be kept at bay forever.. "They intend to place us up for auction soon, Thracius. There is no guarantee that you will win the bid. I want you to remember this, that this is our time. And I do not regret it, I shall always keep you close to my heart."

"Don't be ridiculous!" he chuckled at her and shook his head, "Of course I'll win the bid. Why shouldn't I? There are so many slaves and for what I'd drive your price up to, no one in their right mind would pay it. They're going to back off half way through, easily." Half brushing her worry aside as he kissed her at the pocket of her jaw line.

She smiled softly at the kiss.. letting his words sooth her worry. Though she did not tell him of the men who came by to look at her, to inspect her. Nor of the humiliation of being made to stand still while they pawed at her, check her teeth. But the one who really worried her, had come at night, just before dawn, just after she had slipped back into the group. He hadn't pawed, he hadn't inspected, he has simply stared from the shadows of the holding room. He.. he worried her. Not a word had passed twixt them and he was gone, before the sun could give her a clue to who he might be. What he might look like. She sighed, and kept this to herself least it spoil their night. Instead she slid under his arm, and pressed to his side.

"Hey," and he moved to look for a place to let the moth cocoon rest and looked at her with a clear curiosity and then said, "do you have a safe place to keep it?" he hadn't thought about how difficult that might be for her or if the safety of the creature would but called into question, "Somewhere where it won't get disturbed?"

She sighs softly at his question "Your right, there is no safe place here to keep it Thracius, you must take it home. Keep it safe for me? Perhaps by the time it changes.. our path will have changed as well?" she smiled then.. allow his hope to infect her. She shoved aside the remembrances of the others. Letting him be her world for this night.

"But then," he stopped and looked concerned, perhaps even mildly defeated, "Is not the point of giving you this gift entirely lost by that?" The distress clear and those eyes, soft as they were looking at her for some indication, some sort of direction as to what he should do.

She frowned slightly wanting to keep it with her, but unsure if she could keep it safe. "I will find a place for it, a safe place.. I promise Thrace, i shall care for it" she did not like the worry and distress in his eyes.. she stepped closer, her arms wrapping about him. Resting her cheek against his chest.

One hand balancing the box safely as his body aligned with her's. He kissed her neck and broke away to set the box gently aside, hidden behind the corner of a building and into its shadow. He knew the suggestion was one that was, perhaps, too daring in its designs, "Let's get out of the city tonight? Just tonight."

She could not help but blink in surprise at his suggestion, seeing the creature would be safe, she paused only long enough to extract a small brick from a pile, and slide it under the box, in case it rained, the box would likely not be flooded.. then back to feel his kiss, then his suggestion.. "Where would we go?"

"I don't know." he looked down one of the roads. It looks dead, deserted like some war had come and gone but nothing was ravaged and burnt. Just abandoned. Eyebrows arched up and he smiled, "Just away?" from everything, really.

(To Be Continued...)

Elissa of Carthage · Date: 2009-12-21 11:48 EST

Day passed swiftly, when it was filled with chores. She did not fuss over them. Her heart remained uplifted as she worked along side her citizens. There where a few who took heart in seeing the princess brought so low. There had been a time when she was over them, but now, she was no better than they in their eyes. Just another slave, in the sea of multitude.

"Where do you think your going?" The slavers gravely voice halted her in her tracks. The day was over and she had been intent on getting into place so as to slip away tonight. She let out a soft groan as she turned to face him.
"You have company tonight. A bidder wishes to see the wares. Go to the river and make yourself presentable." He nodded to two of his guards to follow her.

A flush stole up her cheeks knowing these men would watch her every move. She dared not disobey. So it was with sad heart that she would not see Thracius tonight, and emberassment that she would be watched, she set out for the river to bath. There was fear as well, what had this slaver allowed for special concessions to this bidder?

The bath passed without incident, and she was once more escorted back to the pens, only this time she was seperated from the others. The hour seemed to drag sluggishly as she waited.

"ahh.. there she is.. " came the satisfied smirking tone as the door to her pen opened and a Man stepped through. By the cut of his cloth, it was apparent that he fancied himself a wealthy man. The fact that he could buy special time with her, was testiment of that. She felt real fear, would Thracius be able to outbid such a man?
"Soon you'll be mine.. " his words where like snakes slithering over her skin. She flinched from his touch, but he only followed through. He did not seem the least bit detered by her lack of enthusiasm.
"I will never belong to you!" she hissed as she again sidestepped his reaching grasp.
"Oh but you will" he insisted, catching her. His grip bruising on her arms as he jerked her against his soft chest. "We shall see just how much you beg then little princess". He smirked as he ran his hands over her with far to much familiarity. Struggling she managed to kick him harshly in the shin, it was enough for him to release her. Shoving her hard, she was sent sprawling to his feet.

"You wont be so smug when my band of ownership is on your arms!" he glared down at her.
"That is enough Sir, I cannot allow you to damage the goods before they are placed on the block." The slaver stepped in then, intent on preventing any damage to his prized possession.

Growling low the Man left, but the look he gave Elissa in parting was enough to strike real fear in her heart. Her vow not to be owned by anyone but Thracius solidified. Her course of action made plain should that event occure. The slaver left soon after without a word to her, but did take the time to lock the door behind him. There would be no escape tonight.

Thalas · Date: 2010-02-13 13:32 EST

He had waited all night and she hadn't come. He hadn't even seen even the faint indication of her trying to appear. Had something gone wrong? The gift he had given her was a small fortune in her hands. It felt worthless. That he should crush it in a fist and toss it at the foot of the fence as though it were a message she would understand and feel remorse for. A beaten box. He exhaled. He was being rash. He wandered off to the taverns to drink with Rufus and complain about the things which didn't matter. When the next evening came, he was torn on whether to go again. He should. There was. There surely had to be. A reason. So he sucked in his breath and held the box tenderly between his hands and approached the fence the way a nervous boy does.

Freedom, even just this personal freedom of time, was to be cherished. Tonight she had been able to slip away. Relieved that brute who sought to own her had not taken up another night. She knew it would not be much longer before she was made to face the fear and humiliation of the auction block. She could only pray for both their sakes that Thracius won. She held to the shadows and waited, watching as the shadows lengthened and the moon progressed on its slow path across the clear star studded night. When all hope was nearly lost, she noted the moving shadow as it drew near, even in the dark she knew it was him simply by the shape of his shadow, the strut in his stride. She could not help the smile that spread across her lips as she slipped into moonlight. "Thracius!" Her urgent whisper, motioning him to her location.

He hears her and instantly wanted to wash away the sting of the night before. She was so happy, as though nothing was amiss and that emotion could swallow him. He didn't let it. He located her and went over to where she was. There was something of like a coldness to him. That shield of indifference men wear when they're hurt and just lock the pain away. Let their face into a stone-flesh mask. Nothing she could say would hurt him, move him. So he thought. His eyebrows arched upward and his verbal approach comes, "Where were you?"

She was brought up short, abruptly, by his attitude and cold question. Her eyes automatically narrowed as she sensed the brewing anger in him. "I tried, but could not slip away last night. The slaver insisted. Some bidder purchased a private viewing.? She snapped back, shivering in remembrance. Her hands moving to cover the bruises along her upper arms from the Bidder?s cruel grasp.

"What happened?" He felt a sudden remorse. He forgot the line she walked even to try to see him. She had done it before and he thought it was nothing and had... forgotten the risk that was involved. The heart she had to show to get out and be part of him had been forgotten somehow. He blamed her for... the things she couldn't control. He softened and stepped closer to her, hands on the fence and eyes downcast in shame, "I just thought... I don't know."

She shrugged, not quite ready to forgive the accusation that laced his previous question. "He was a bit free with his affections, I was not accepting of them. I won?t be owned by him Thracius. I'll die first!" she turned her back to him then, intent on checking on the moth, He could follow or stay. "I cannot just come and go like you, Thracius. You forget sometimes that here I am but a slave. " But then, as always, she could not stay mad for long and even in her tirade she could feel her anger softening, her heart skipping just to be near him. Did he even feel half of what she did? Or was this just a foolish young girl?s attraction?

"I'm sorry" he pressed and made round to her, following where she went and sitting by the box with the small item in it. His eyes looked up at her and his smile came broad to wash away her anger, "Has it come out of the shell to meet you yet?" He caste a look, "He'll mistake you for the moon I think."

He did have a way with the words. Silver tongued scoundrel. She could not help but answer his smile as her anger washed away in with the compliment, then glancing inside the box, and sure enough, the cocoon lay split and resting upon a leafless bit of branch was the most beautiful of creatures. Its thin gossamer wings glowed a luminescent green in the moonlight.

"Oooh Thrace... look... isn't it lovely?" It looked both fragile and yet strong enough to withstand gales. Ethereal and yet so solid. A mix of contradictions. But most of all, it looked trapped. As if it only waited, fanning its wings softly, gracefully. Waited for someone to foolishly open the cage door. She felt her breath hitch filled with both joy and sorrow. "It will die in captivity? withering away. It should be free, Thracius, free to dance upon the moonbeams, to glide through the night winds." She looked up at him, her eyes misted with unshed tears.

"I've never seen anything like it." But he was looking at her when he said it. His eyes turned and he examined the creature in the box. It... wasn't at all what he expected. It was more surreal. More brightly colored green than he imagined was possible in this part of the world. "... Wow." Her words are like a flutter in his ear and he smiles at her, his hand on her cheek as she seemed to tremble, "It will be fine so long as you have it, yea?" He kissed her on the curve of her cheek to sooth the worry.

She took his words in, his touch, his soft kiss. And for a moment, allowed herself to believe she could keep such a wondrous creature.. "No? no? it would not be right Thracius... this... this creature was not meant for captivity. We must release it. Don?t you see Thrace... don?t you understand? Nothing should be held against their will... not even such a small creature as this.? She sighed, hoping he would understand. With or without him, she would release the moth.

"He was a small fortune to buy, princess," he tried to coax her softly but he saw by the set of her jaw, the look of her eye, that there was little use in it. He exhaled long and his smile was still there, undamaged by her decision, "But still my gift to you. We?ll do what you think is right. Do you think he's ready to go?" He turned to look at the wings, spread wide and giving a flutter.

"Oh Thracius!" her arms wrapped about his neck as she tugged him into an exuberant hug, "thank you? " she whispered softly against his lips. A gentle kiss was given then pulling back she again looked down at the moth. "Did they not tell you what it would be once it came from its cocoon?" She was not quite ready to release it.

He chuckled, deep like a thunder when she embraced him. It felt like the most intimate touch another person had ever given him. That when she clashed against him it went deeper than the flesh, into him and through him with warmth. When she pulled back and inquired about the creature he nodded. His address was not to a ?they?, but a very specific party, "He told me, but it is still unbelievable. He could have told me all day what it would look like and I still would not have known." He pressed his lips together and squinted thoughtful, recalling... him. The man called Mattaki. Such an odd name. Such a... strange person. It made sense though, that he would find something so unusual from someone so unusual.

She looked up at him, expecting him to continue. "Well now, don?t keep me in suspense... what kind of creature is this?" her eyes danced with joy as she watched him. When he talked like this, she could well see the statesman he would someday be. It filled her with pride to think that she would be his wife.

"It was something like butterfly. You know, moth. Like the little grey ones at night." He chuckled at her and looked at the bright green creature. The two lines of fuzz coming from its head surprised him, "Looks more like... I don't know. I didn't know that a moth can look like this." His smile falters back to her, "Like some beautiful little monster."

She chuckled softly. "Well for a moth, it certainly shines." Then a soft sigh, "I guess we should release it now. I would not like to see it beat itself against the bars of the cage. Is there some place open, Thracius?"

"You want to step out of town?" he ventured with a long grin appearing to dare her to be bold with him, careless with him. Slip out of the fence and through the walkway. Further than they had ever gone to let the beautiful beast go. His hand slipped down into her own and there was a spark of excitement in his eyes, ?Yea?"

"Oh yes Thracius, let?s..." Her voice was breathless with excitement, the cage cradled carefully in her free hand she rose, her other hand grasped safely in his.

He pulled her along like they were running from someone who already caught them. That a downpour was going to happen and that they should hurry. Some slaves stirred as they went, but did not speak or particularly care. The fence was just a sign of their imprisonment. They had nowhere to go, no place to run to. They were a captive by parameters and hollowed by the war. It was an odd situation for life, love, to spring from the ashes. His hand closed around her's and on and on, faster and faster, looking over his shoulder and laughing back at her as her feet had to pick up larger and larger wind-strides. Then the abrupt halt as they hit the edge of town. Panting with his ribs jumping in and out of himself he smiled at her. Their fake running-away-together.

She giggled softly as she followed his lead, racing pell-mell through the market, as if neither had a care if they were caught. On the outskirts, where the city faded and the moon held dominion, they came to stop. Gasping softly for breath she plopped down beside him to savor the soft breeze, the moonlight, the silence and for that brief moment she could believe she was free, as free as their moth would be. She cradled the cage in her lap, stroking its sides with tender hands then canting a look at him, that graceful smile tugging on her lips, "You ready?"

He was laying on his back now. Wiggled so that his laying form partly curved around her sitting up one. Looking at the cage, the moth that survived the gusty trip and was wildly flapping its wings. They now beat slower, more calmly in the cage. He smiled up at her, the corner of his lips caught in it and nodded, "What's its name? Everything has a name."

"Wind" she sighed softly as she leaned back against him. Settling against him, she carefully lifted the cage's lid. Silently, with him? feeling a part of something larger, she watched as the moth beat its wings then fluttered a bit as if it sensed freedom, and yet was hesitant to fly. She gave the cage a small jostle and up it went. In a feathery bounce it began to gain altitude. Together they watched it take flight to find its wings under it. She sniffed back the tears that clogged her throat, then said softly "The auction will be soon? " not wanting to bring a pall over the night but needing to let him know. "I won?t let that other man own me, Thracius? I can?t."

"I don't know that I'll ever think that creature was real." He said with a smile as he watched the Luna moth fade off into the night, a bouncing bit of surrealistic green that perhaps another soul or two might see here. He shut his eyes when she talked about the auction. "You don't have to worry. It'll be fine..." He opened his eyes and looked at her, reaching over to stroke her back, "I won't let him."

At his reassuring words she settled down against him, cuddling close, not wanting to think about what was to come.