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There were some days when he hated everything about his life in Athenia. The long days in the arena, the misery of slavery, it made him long for his family, the life he'd known for the first fourteen years of his life. Some nights he couldn't sleep in his cell room at the arena, waking in a cold sweat as he dreamed of the people who had died, the screams from Olena and the others when he couldn't do anything to help them. Even now all these years later it weighed heavily on him and he knew it would never truly fade.
Then there were days like these, when he was pulled from his cell after a match and instead brought to places like this. The mansion of someone wealthy enough to buy him and a few others for clout and decoration. For a culture of people who believed themselves thinkers and scholars enjoyed nothing more than the vicious battles between slaves and animals. The person who was playing host wanted the victorious fighters to lend an air of danger, give a grittier side of life and a chance for the great and good to mingle with the low lives.
He'd been cleaned up out of the arena, dark blonde hair almost golden in the torchlight, and the cut to his upper arm had been bound up with better attention than he usually received. Whoever had bought his attendance for the night had been very much determined that he and the other three gladiators in attendance fit fully into the fantasy the city believed in. In a white chiton that left little to the imagination he stood with the others, looking around the party as beautiful people milled about.
Gaios was already being flirted with, a society matron pressed to his friend's chest as she giggled like a school girl and handed him a glass of wine. Poor bastard was no doubt going to end up in her bed or in a dark corner with her hiding from a jealous husband. Looking away, he scanned the room for someone to keep him occupied. If the matrons were going to be clinging he'd do just about anything to appear distracted enough that they left him alone. A young woman caught his eye, her smile bright as the torches in the room, and when she glanced his way Dima raised his glass in a toast, a small smile on his lips.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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There were some days when he hated everything about his life in Athenia. The long days in the arena, the misery of slavery, it made him long for his family, the life he'd known for the first fourteen years of his life. Some nights he couldn't sleep in his cell room at the arena, waking in a cold sweat as he dreamed of the people who had died, the screams from Olena and the others when he couldn't do anything to help them. Even now all these years later it weighed heavily on him and he knew it would never truly fade.
Then there were days like these, when he was pulled from his cell after a match and instead brought to places like this. The mansion of someone wealthy enough to buy him and a few others for clout and decoration. For a culture of people who believed themselves thinkers and scholars enjoyed nothing more than the vicious battles between slaves and animals. The person who was playing host wanted the victorious fighters to lend an air of danger, give a grittier side of life and a chance for the great and good to mingle with the low lives.
He'd been cleaned up out of the arena, dark blonde hair almost golden in the torchlight, and the cut to his upper arm had been bound up with better attention than he usually received. Whoever had bought his attendance for the night had been very much determined that he and the other three gladiators in attendance fit fully into the fantasy the city believed in. In a white chiton that left little to the imagination he stood with the others, looking around the party as beautiful people milled about.
Gaios was already being flirted with, a society matron pressed to his friend's chest as she giggled like a school girl and handed him a glass of wine. Poor bastard was no doubt going to end up in her bed or in a dark corner with her hiding from a jealous husband. Looking away, he scanned the room for someone to keep him occupied. If the matrons were going to be clinging he'd do just about anything to appear distracted enough that they left him alone. A young woman caught his eye, her smile bright as the torches in the room, and when she glanced his way Dima raised his glass in a toast, a small smile on his lips.
There were some days when he hated everything about his life in Athenia. The long days in the arena, the misery of slavery, it made him long for his family, the life he'd known for the first fourteen years of his life. Some nights he couldn't sleep in his cell room at the arena, waking in a cold sweat as he dreamed of the people who had died, the screams from Olena and the others when he couldn't do anything to help them. Even now all these years later it weighed heavily on him and he knew it would never truly fade.
Then there were days like these, when he was pulled from his cell after a match and instead brought to places like this. The mansion of someone wealthy enough to buy him and a few others for clout and decoration. For a culture of people who believed themselves thinkers and scholars enjoyed nothing more than the vicious battles between slaves and animals. The person who was playing host wanted the victorious fighters to lend an air of danger, give a grittier side of life and a chance for the great and good to mingle with the low lives.
He'd been cleaned up out of the arena, dark blonde hair almost golden in the torchlight, and the cut to his upper arm had been bound up with better attention than he usually received. Whoever had bought his attendance for the night had been very much determined that he and the other three gladiators in attendance fit fully into the fantasy the city believed in. In a white chiton that left little to the imagination he stood with the others, looking around the party as beautiful people milled about.
Gaios was already being flirted with, a society matron pressed to his friend's chest as she giggled like a school girl and handed him a glass of wine. Poor bastard was no doubt going to end up in her bed or in a dark corner with her hiding from a jealous husband. Looking away, he scanned the room for someone to keep him occupied. If the matrons were going to be clinging he'd do just about anything to appear distracted enough that they left him alone. A young woman caught his eye, her smile bright as the torches in the room, and when she glanced his way Dima raised his glass in a toast, a small smile on his lips.
It was a passtime, one that bristled the hairs on the back of her parents neck but it was a passtime. One that fuelled the borderline kink Agathe held for bloodshed and it wasn’t much of a secret that if she caught wind of a fight amongst some gladiators? She’d be there before the rumours had finished spreading, occasionally she attended the parties too just to scratch that itch for amusement to watch nobility and royalty alike fawn over the winners to make their husbands jealous, it worked too considering they were rarely in shape to give their wives a tumble most were too shy to admit they craved. Agathe however? Wasn’t shy more so she made her views clear to the group of women she’d not care for never seeing again, “It’s all just a circus of wealth.. Look at what we can afford. That’s all it is and you all lap it up like a stray..”
The disgusted gasp of disagreement was near music to her ears as she rolled her eyes at the retorts of brainwashed disagreement. Agathe just sipped at her wine bored out of her mind, everyone here was told what to say, what to think and how to act that it became a scandal when Agathe, Lady of house Marikas refused; sure it made her more like her father than she cared to admit but a Lady of a house didn’t say such things. She pushed herself free from the pillar she had been resting her weight against and brushed her free hand over the creases of the deep wine fabric adorning her frame.
“No thank you.” The lady near balked at the offer of a dance as she stood idle off in a secluded area away from gossip and fawning when the gesture of a raised cup caught her attention, smiling brightly she watched the facade of wealth being flourished and she couldn’t help but laugh at herself, even throwing her head back in disbelief at how this all unfolds like clockwork. Briefly she glanced back to the male and raised her own cup in invitation, he seemed as if he agreed with her sentiments as the gladiator appeared to be avoiding the attention where he could and so she glanced to the free space beside her and back towards him with a gesture of her empty hand.
The gladiator seemed like the reprieve she had been searching for, honestly its why she near despised conversing with other titled folk, they never appeared to know how to speak for themselves in fear of disgracing their name. Agathe had done that a long time ago there was no point in stopping now, if she disagreed? She’d say she disagreed, if she wanted to spend her time with someone lower down the ranks than she? She’d do that too. It was always easier to ask for forgiveness than to seek permission because the answer was forever going to be no.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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It was a passtime, one that bristled the hairs on the back of her parents neck but it was a passtime. One that fuelled the borderline kink Agathe held for bloodshed and it wasn’t much of a secret that if she caught wind of a fight amongst some gladiators? She’d be there before the rumours had finished spreading, occasionally she attended the parties too just to scratch that itch for amusement to watch nobility and royalty alike fawn over the winners to make their husbands jealous, it worked too considering they were rarely in shape to give their wives a tumble most were too shy to admit they craved. Agathe however? Wasn’t shy more so she made her views clear to the group of women she’d not care for never seeing again, “It’s all just a circus of wealth.. Look at what we can afford. That’s all it is and you all lap it up like a stray..”
The disgusted gasp of disagreement was near music to her ears as she rolled her eyes at the retorts of brainwashed disagreement. Agathe just sipped at her wine bored out of her mind, everyone here was told what to say, what to think and how to act that it became a scandal when Agathe, Lady of house Marikas refused; sure it made her more like her father than she cared to admit but a Lady of a house didn’t say such things. She pushed herself free from the pillar she had been resting her weight against and brushed her free hand over the creases of the deep wine fabric adorning her frame.
“No thank you.” The lady near balked at the offer of a dance as she stood idle off in a secluded area away from gossip and fawning when the gesture of a raised cup caught her attention, smiling brightly she watched the facade of wealth being flourished and she couldn’t help but laugh at herself, even throwing her head back in disbelief at how this all unfolds like clockwork. Briefly she glanced back to the male and raised her own cup in invitation, he seemed as if he agreed with her sentiments as the gladiator appeared to be avoiding the attention where he could and so she glanced to the free space beside her and back towards him with a gesture of her empty hand.
The gladiator seemed like the reprieve she had been searching for, honestly its why she near despised conversing with other titled folk, they never appeared to know how to speak for themselves in fear of disgracing their name. Agathe had done that a long time ago there was no point in stopping now, if she disagreed? She’d say she disagreed, if she wanted to spend her time with someone lower down the ranks than she? She’d do that too. It was always easier to ask for forgiveness than to seek permission because the answer was forever going to be no.
It was a passtime, one that bristled the hairs on the back of her parents neck but it was a passtime. One that fuelled the borderline kink Agathe held for bloodshed and it wasn’t much of a secret that if she caught wind of a fight amongst some gladiators? She’d be there before the rumours had finished spreading, occasionally she attended the parties too just to scratch that itch for amusement to watch nobility and royalty alike fawn over the winners to make their husbands jealous, it worked too considering they were rarely in shape to give their wives a tumble most were too shy to admit they craved. Agathe however? Wasn’t shy more so she made her views clear to the group of women she’d not care for never seeing again, “It’s all just a circus of wealth.. Look at what we can afford. That’s all it is and you all lap it up like a stray..”
The disgusted gasp of disagreement was near music to her ears as she rolled her eyes at the retorts of brainwashed disagreement. Agathe just sipped at her wine bored out of her mind, everyone here was told what to say, what to think and how to act that it became a scandal when Agathe, Lady of house Marikas refused; sure it made her more like her father than she cared to admit but a Lady of a house didn’t say such things. She pushed herself free from the pillar she had been resting her weight against and brushed her free hand over the creases of the deep wine fabric adorning her frame.
“No thank you.” The lady near balked at the offer of a dance as she stood idle off in a secluded area away from gossip and fawning when the gesture of a raised cup caught her attention, smiling brightly she watched the facade of wealth being flourished and she couldn’t help but laugh at herself, even throwing her head back in disbelief at how this all unfolds like clockwork. Briefly she glanced back to the male and raised her own cup in invitation, he seemed as if he agreed with her sentiments as the gladiator appeared to be avoiding the attention where he could and so she glanced to the free space beside her and back towards him with a gesture of her empty hand.
The gladiator seemed like the reprieve she had been searching for, honestly its why she near despised conversing with other titled folk, they never appeared to know how to speak for themselves in fear of disgracing their name. Agathe had done that a long time ago there was no point in stopping now, if she disagreed? She’d say she disagreed, if she wanted to spend her time with someone lower down the ranks than she? She’d do that too. It was always easier to ask for forgiveness than to seek permission because the answer was forever going to be no.
He'd been attending these events long enough to know his signal, and her raised glass was as open an invitation as the gesture to the space beside her. With a word to his comrades, Dima made his way across to where she lingered. It was out of the way enough that there wouldn't be too many eyes on them, but not so secluded that they would be gossiped about. Not yet at least. Places like this gossip and rumor felt thick enough in the air that it was a wonder none of them had choked on it, probably because they were all too busy drinking it in as if it was the opium he could smell from somewhere else in the house.
Wine in hand, he found his way to her side and gave a bow. She was obviously noble in status, he thought perhaps he'd seen her at a few of these functions before but never dared approach but he couldn't be certain. Most nights he dragged himself through the evening until he could go home and rest, but tomorrow thanks to his injury and his master's desire to keep him fighting, he had a day of rest anyhow. Why not entertain himself while he was here.
"My lady," his accent was still fairly thick, as if the Greek words he spoke didn't quite fit in his mouth. He hated the way it sounded still to his ears, but he doubted she had any of his native tongue and when in Greece..he was to do as the Greeks did. That much had been hammered into his head constantly for the past decade. Behave, speak the language, keep your head down, that was how he could survive to search for his family another day.
"You are bold, to speak as you do in this company."
Perhaps he should have flattered her, gone in with the usual someone so lovely shouldn't hide, or been gallant with an offer to handle whatever annoyance the other man had brought into her life, but he'd never been very good at flattery. He'd heard her comments, she was the first Athenian he had ever heard say such things out loud. A circus of wealth indeed, this whole party was a testament to the madness the wealthy here could achieve, and this was one of the tamer events he'd attended.
"Would that the others here could see as clearly as you."
This character is currently a work in progress.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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He'd been attending these events long enough to know his signal, and her raised glass was as open an invitation as the gesture to the space beside her. With a word to his comrades, Dima made his way across to where she lingered. It was out of the way enough that there wouldn't be too many eyes on them, but not so secluded that they would be gossiped about. Not yet at least. Places like this gossip and rumor felt thick enough in the air that it was a wonder none of them had choked on it, probably because they were all too busy drinking it in as if it was the opium he could smell from somewhere else in the house.
Wine in hand, he found his way to her side and gave a bow. She was obviously noble in status, he thought perhaps he'd seen her at a few of these functions before but never dared approach but he couldn't be certain. Most nights he dragged himself through the evening until he could go home and rest, but tomorrow thanks to his injury and his master's desire to keep him fighting, he had a day of rest anyhow. Why not entertain himself while he was here.
"My lady," his accent was still fairly thick, as if the Greek words he spoke didn't quite fit in his mouth. He hated the way it sounded still to his ears, but he doubted she had any of his native tongue and when in Greece..he was to do as the Greeks did. That much had been hammered into his head constantly for the past decade. Behave, speak the language, keep your head down, that was how he could survive to search for his family another day.
"You are bold, to speak as you do in this company."
Perhaps he should have flattered her, gone in with the usual someone so lovely shouldn't hide, or been gallant with an offer to handle whatever annoyance the other man had brought into her life, but he'd never been very good at flattery. He'd heard her comments, she was the first Athenian he had ever heard say such things out loud. A circus of wealth indeed, this whole party was a testament to the madness the wealthy here could achieve, and this was one of the tamer events he'd attended.
"Would that the others here could see as clearly as you."
He'd been attending these events long enough to know his signal, and her raised glass was as open an invitation as the gesture to the space beside her. With a word to his comrades, Dima made his way across to where she lingered. It was out of the way enough that there wouldn't be too many eyes on them, but not so secluded that they would be gossiped about. Not yet at least. Places like this gossip and rumor felt thick enough in the air that it was a wonder none of them had choked on it, probably because they were all too busy drinking it in as if it was the opium he could smell from somewhere else in the house.
Wine in hand, he found his way to her side and gave a bow. She was obviously noble in status, he thought perhaps he'd seen her at a few of these functions before but never dared approach but he couldn't be certain. Most nights he dragged himself through the evening until he could go home and rest, but tomorrow thanks to his injury and his master's desire to keep him fighting, he had a day of rest anyhow. Why not entertain himself while he was here.
"My lady," his accent was still fairly thick, as if the Greek words he spoke didn't quite fit in his mouth. He hated the way it sounded still to his ears, but he doubted she had any of his native tongue and when in Greece..he was to do as the Greeks did. That much had been hammered into his head constantly for the past decade. Behave, speak the language, keep your head down, that was how he could survive to search for his family another day.
"You are bold, to speak as you do in this company."
Perhaps he should have flattered her, gone in with the usual someone so lovely shouldn't hide, or been gallant with an offer to handle whatever annoyance the other man had brought into her life, but he'd never been very good at flattery. He'd heard her comments, she was the first Athenian he had ever heard say such things out loud. A circus of wealth indeed, this whole party was a testament to the madness the wealthy here could achieve, and this was one of the tamer events he'd attended.
"Would that the others here could see as clearly as you."
Agathe was an unusual breed and it would take her years to learn the proper balance of her beliefs and opinions, but as of right now? She would tell anyone who would listen as she just stared across the throng of people milling about in false smiles and a facade of happiness that she knew from experience rarely existed in its truth. As if to prove her silent thought, she crinkled her nose at the strong scent of opium that was just another vice to lose your misery in. Agathe? She wore her misery like armour, she wasn’t shy about her disagreement; her disdain, loathing for how everything just needed to be perfect because Athenians were perfect it was part of the reason she milled about with the lesser folk.. They knew.
With a soft laugh she waved her hand in a polite dismissal at his bow, his thick accent addressing her title. It was like a pair of ill fitting sandals, the words never fit Agathe of house Marikas and she didn’t fit the house. “Please.. Agathe, if you will. Lady makes me sound..” She frowned in thought, seeking for the perfect word as she tilted her head to the mingling crowd. “Pompous.” The accent behind her words was a soft note, having taught herself to speak slower; less enunciated for those she gave her time to outside of her typical circle and it was a self taught trait that gained her favours amongst the lower class considering she thought of them all clearly more than anyone in her world.
Much similarly to him, she too was told how to speak; stand; walk, bow, curtsey and even how to think. Each day spent walking in such a parade that sometimes her back simply ached with the weight of it all; over the years of childhood she grew jaded fully believing with her fathers search of a son that none of it mattered anyway. She wasn’t a preferred heir, so what was the circus in aid of? With that question, came another lesson… Family image. It was all about reputation and honestly Agathe waited for the day the noble and royal alike would learn that they were all the same as the lower, those they looked down their noses upon.. We were all two sides of the same coin, but it was preposterous ofcourse.
“I thank you for noticing and not blanching at my stark words.” No title passed her lips, just a smile as she turned to give her full attention to him as she even went without holding her hand out as she also noticed the lack of compliment, the missing flattery and it brought a sigh of relief. He was genuine, he understood and he didn’t expect her to pretend; he didn’t want Lady Agathe, he wanted.. Her. His observation to her tone told her that much and with a sip of wine she couldn’t stop smiling as she sighed a soft, pleasant sound.
“The opium, wine and bright colours has diminished their sights I assume..” A bright laugh followed her words, a laugh that held a rather unladylike snort as she nodded her head to the grey wife fawning over a set of muscles that was sure to make her husband ponder poison. For which party? Agathe wasn’t certain but it was likely, she counted on it. “You think that’s who we dream to be? Loveless husbands, needing a young thing like you as a pawn to play? Athena bless me but.. I could never dream.”
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Agathe was an unusual breed and it would take her years to learn the proper balance of her beliefs and opinions, but as of right now? She would tell anyone who would listen as she just stared across the throng of people milling about in false smiles and a facade of happiness that she knew from experience rarely existed in its truth. As if to prove her silent thought, she crinkled her nose at the strong scent of opium that was just another vice to lose your misery in. Agathe? She wore her misery like armour, she wasn’t shy about her disagreement; her disdain, loathing for how everything just needed to be perfect because Athenians were perfect it was part of the reason she milled about with the lesser folk.. They knew.
With a soft laugh she waved her hand in a polite dismissal at his bow, his thick accent addressing her title. It was like a pair of ill fitting sandals, the words never fit Agathe of house Marikas and she didn’t fit the house. “Please.. Agathe, if you will. Lady makes me sound..” She frowned in thought, seeking for the perfect word as she tilted her head to the mingling crowd. “Pompous.” The accent behind her words was a soft note, having taught herself to speak slower; less enunciated for those she gave her time to outside of her typical circle and it was a self taught trait that gained her favours amongst the lower class considering she thought of them all clearly more than anyone in her world.
Much similarly to him, she too was told how to speak; stand; walk, bow, curtsey and even how to think. Each day spent walking in such a parade that sometimes her back simply ached with the weight of it all; over the years of childhood she grew jaded fully believing with her fathers search of a son that none of it mattered anyway. She wasn’t a preferred heir, so what was the circus in aid of? With that question, came another lesson… Family image. It was all about reputation and honestly Agathe waited for the day the noble and royal alike would learn that they were all the same as the lower, those they looked down their noses upon.. We were all two sides of the same coin, but it was preposterous ofcourse.
“I thank you for noticing and not blanching at my stark words.” No title passed her lips, just a smile as she turned to give her full attention to him as she even went without holding her hand out as she also noticed the lack of compliment, the missing flattery and it brought a sigh of relief. He was genuine, he understood and he didn’t expect her to pretend; he didn’t want Lady Agathe, he wanted.. Her. His observation to her tone told her that much and with a sip of wine she couldn’t stop smiling as she sighed a soft, pleasant sound.
“The opium, wine and bright colours has diminished their sights I assume..” A bright laugh followed her words, a laugh that held a rather unladylike snort as she nodded her head to the grey wife fawning over a set of muscles that was sure to make her husband ponder poison. For which party? Agathe wasn’t certain but it was likely, she counted on it. “You think that’s who we dream to be? Loveless husbands, needing a young thing like you as a pawn to play? Athena bless me but.. I could never dream.”
Agathe was an unusual breed and it would take her years to learn the proper balance of her beliefs and opinions, but as of right now? She would tell anyone who would listen as she just stared across the throng of people milling about in false smiles and a facade of happiness that she knew from experience rarely existed in its truth. As if to prove her silent thought, she crinkled her nose at the strong scent of opium that was just another vice to lose your misery in. Agathe? She wore her misery like armour, she wasn’t shy about her disagreement; her disdain, loathing for how everything just needed to be perfect because Athenians were perfect it was part of the reason she milled about with the lesser folk.. They knew.
With a soft laugh she waved her hand in a polite dismissal at his bow, his thick accent addressing her title. It was like a pair of ill fitting sandals, the words never fit Agathe of house Marikas and she didn’t fit the house. “Please.. Agathe, if you will. Lady makes me sound..” She frowned in thought, seeking for the perfect word as she tilted her head to the mingling crowd. “Pompous.” The accent behind her words was a soft note, having taught herself to speak slower; less enunciated for those she gave her time to outside of her typical circle and it was a self taught trait that gained her favours amongst the lower class considering she thought of them all clearly more than anyone in her world.
Much similarly to him, she too was told how to speak; stand; walk, bow, curtsey and even how to think. Each day spent walking in such a parade that sometimes her back simply ached with the weight of it all; over the years of childhood she grew jaded fully believing with her fathers search of a son that none of it mattered anyway. She wasn’t a preferred heir, so what was the circus in aid of? With that question, came another lesson… Family image. It was all about reputation and honestly Agathe waited for the day the noble and royal alike would learn that they were all the same as the lower, those they looked down their noses upon.. We were all two sides of the same coin, but it was preposterous ofcourse.
“I thank you for noticing and not blanching at my stark words.” No title passed her lips, just a smile as she turned to give her full attention to him as she even went without holding her hand out as she also noticed the lack of compliment, the missing flattery and it brought a sigh of relief. He was genuine, he understood and he didn’t expect her to pretend; he didn’t want Lady Agathe, he wanted.. Her. His observation to her tone told her that much and with a sip of wine she couldn’t stop smiling as she sighed a soft, pleasant sound.
“The opium, wine and bright colours has diminished their sights I assume..” A bright laugh followed her words, a laugh that held a rather unladylike snort as she nodded her head to the grey wife fawning over a set of muscles that was sure to make her husband ponder poison. For which party? Agathe wasn’t certain but it was likely, she counted on it. “You think that’s who we dream to be? Loveless husbands, needing a young thing like you as a pawn to play? Athena bless me but.. I could never dream.”
