Thread: The Concubine     (Fanatic/Nika)

Alicia had feared no use of force from the guard at her back in her anger, but as Atticus strode towards her, her eyes tracked him warily. His demeanor had changed. Here was the General of the North. Those broad shoulders held Rome's future aloft and they were as proud and steady as the rest of him. Stories of war she had many, but they were just that-- whispered words from gossiping maws. Here was a warrior of flesh, and so real, so raw was this realization. She could see the phantom banners of the regiment splayed out behind him as he would have strode on the battlefield, regaled in his armor, owning his strength and his force. He did not touch her she had expected some sort of physical retribution, as was the nature of Man, and a punishment for insulting the General. Instead, his words rushed through her like a gale. The woman's lips parted as one winded and trying to draw breath. This day was filled with many firsts, Alicia was unaccustomed to being spoken to thusly, and by a man. His face hovered so close to her's she could feel the heat of his breath against her flushed cheek. Her eyes fell from the General's, to his stern lips, and then quickly away. Alicia stood still as the General dismissed his soldiers, though the small gasps of her breath and the drumming of her heart beneath her breast she struggled to quiet. The Vestalis' neck bent before them like the trampled violet's under the dutiful heel of a soldier, face turned down and away, frowning at the carpet beneath her feet, her face half-hidden in the golden curtain of her hair. The fire of anger had been snuffed, but the General's words did nothing to curb the despair within the girl's still-hopeful breast. Was there nothing to be done, but to accept this turn of fortune? Why had the fates so cruelly deserted her? Vesta did not answer her silent prayers, nor did the goddess come to liberate her sworn daughter. She was alone, in a strange land, surrounded by the gender had been nothing but the subjects of warnings or the tragic heroes of the bards, and so far from anything she knew as home. Wetness pricked her eyes as she squoze them forcefully shut, and when they opened, and when the General turned to address her, Alicia had calmed. She would not be cowed. She was Rome's composure, and the purity of the heart of the state in service to the gods. Lifting her head, the priestess' eyes held their smooth poise once more, a placid lake under which smoldered hot destain. Who was this man, no matter how eminent, to treat her as some prize he had won? She was not something owned and ordered! Only her lips displayed her distress and sorrow, and they twitched at his order, but she did not part them to speak. Slitted blue eyes slid past him to regard the fiery red-haired slave who carried in her arms folds upon folds of gorgeous gossamer silk, the color of dawn a rose gold that shimmered in the candlelight. Her attention was then drawn to the second slave, and Alicia's eyes passed impassively over the soft honey-brown cheeks of the girl, and the beautiful large brown eyes feathered by black lashes that fluttered nervously as Alicia met her tentative gaze. The girl was like a fawn, lean and yet more graceful than her barbarian counterpart, taking pains to point her left foot in Alicia's direction, and follow the woman with it as Alicia approached. If Alicia had registered the threat or the desperate display of submission and respect from the exotic slave, it was not outwardly conveyed. Instead, her eyes alighted on the chests, which perhaps held finery, delicacies, and money, to honor Rome's great General, and then traveled to the luxury of the bath it's hot steam rising from the crystal-clear water within the large basin. Most soldiers on the frontier did not bathe regularly, and if they did it was within the cold of river itself. This treat was a rarity and an extravagance, even for a temple priestess of Rome for she had always drawn her own bath, and had done communally with her sisters. Alicia's hands clutched loosely at the sides of her now-stained robes. Would she really disrobe and bathe here, within a man's domain within a war compound? Suddenly the coat upon her shoulders and the heavy robes that hung from her form felt as heavy and filthy as anything she had ever worn. The exhaustion and want of some sort of solace, this pleasure, was clear in the woman's faltering poise and her face. Still, she set her wary eyes on the General, and spoke chillingly, I will not-- Alicia paused, mouth slightly open as her tongue caressed a spiteful word, before she took a breath and spoke once more, I Wish you to leave General. I wish to undress and bathe unaccompanied by... Your gaze.