Disclaimer: No money is made off this; it is purely for pleasure and the sake of writing. Plot and most characters belong to me, except for some gods mentioned, but who owns the gods anyway? Some concepts in here belong to others; due credit is given at the end of the chapter.

Author's Note:
This chapter portrays a new side of Angela, one that isn't the dutiful daughter or bosom friend since birth. Angela flirts in this chapter. She isn't meant to be characterized as a slut, merely a...cat who's toying with her...prey. Although Romans are thought of as white and sterile, and, consequently, the vernacular, I've chosen to make the dialogue in this chapter into our speech patterns. Again, it ties back into Angela's characterization.

Also, looking for a beta reader! I'm getting this immense paranoia that the story isn't flowing correctly, and I'd feel much better if I had an objective person to critique my work. Bonus: you get to see the chapters before I post them anywhere, my spoilers page or FFN.

Recap of Other Author's Note:
Setting = Rome. Libra = Latin, therefore, ROME.

Chapter 3 = background info. Mom: Guardian of Time. Dad: Half-phoenix.

This story is a love story, with a backdrop of classical mythology. It just happened to work better that way, in my opinion.

Happy Reading!
-Nema

Completed: June 2003

Chapter 4

It was later. After Celestine dropped the news on her daughter, she knew that Angela needed time to think on it. Being a girl, Angela did what any other would have done in her place: she went to the market.

The Roman marketplace was a wonderful place to be, especially when your thoughts and moods were bleary. It was filled with people of all sizes and shapes, merchants who sold everything from Chinese silks to Mediterranean fruits to odd knick-knacks one might find, and, of course, sometimes the undeniably attractive Roman boy - young man, rather.

The day Angela visited the market, things were no different, despite the fact that the last time she visited, her spirits were better.

Things were definitely no different, well, except maybe for a new trinket that the local merchant just got. But, things were the same. Especially about the cute boy.

~*~

He had been watching her ever since she stepped foot into the square. She had an aura that made you take notice immediately. Added to the fact that she was actually quite pretty, beautiful enough to be a goddess, really, and she wasn't that hard on the eyes.

~*~

Angela felt someone's eyes on her. Looking at the reflection in a jeweler's mirror nearby, she saw a tall, dark young man watching her every move. Dark brown hair, almost black eyes, tanned skin, and a lean muscular build...very attractive. He was standing by Farouk, the Arabian sword maker, feigning interest in the craftsmanship. It was obviously up to her to make the first move. Maybe this would help distract her from Terris...

~*~

She was walking towards him. His fantasy goddess was nearing him and looked like she wanted a word with him. What were the odds that he'd get away from this discretely and preferably without injuries? The girls he grew up around always spoke their mind - verbally or otherwise.

~*~

Angela laughed to herself. To the casual observer, he looked as unperturbed as ever; however, his body language spoke volumes of terror. A young man, one who could easily overpower her, by the looks of it, was scared of her?

"I take it you admire Farouk's craftsmanship?"

"Yes...It's very, um, that is...it's beautiful," came the stuttering reply.

Wow. Could he be anymore obvious?

"What type of sword do you prefer? Curved or straight?" she asked, purposefully going towards seduction. This was going to be fun. Perfect distraction.

~*~

Breathe, boy, he thought to himself, it's just another girl. Another girl...right. And his mother was Caesar's wife. Well, if one bothered to trace the genealogy far back enough, it's entirely possible that his mother was of Calphurnia's line.

Anyway, was it just his imagination, or was she purposefully stringing him on? In that case, two can play at that game.

"Well, I've always felt that the type or size of the sword doesn't particularly matter, just the manner in which it is used...skillfully or otherwise," he whispered back.

~*~

Oh, my. He was good. Very good.

It was at this moment that Farouk chose to make his appearance.

"So, what can I help you with today?" Inwardly, both youngsters groaned. As good as Farouk was with his craftsmanship, he was equally bad with his timing and social skills.

Farouk took note of the fact that his new customer and his little lady Angela both had undercurrents of sexual tension running. "Well, if it isn't little miss Angela! How's your ma, girl? Taking good care of her?"

Angela. So that was her name. He finally had one up on his "angelic" goddess.

Not good. Very not good. He knew her name, and she had yet to know his. Damn you, Farouk, Angela thought. "Mama's just fine, Farouk. She asked me if I could pick up some things in the market for her, and I seem to have found myself a lost puppy, too," Angela finished, sparing a sideways glance at the boy next to her.

"Ahh, so you've met Marcus? He's got excellent taste in craftsmanship, you know," Farouk told her in an aside.

Marcus. Finally, the things a girl had to go through to get a boy's name. "Rebellious," eh?

"Yes, Farouk, we were discussing types of swords and the skill required to utilize them."

Subtle, now, aren't we, my dear? Was this her way of seducing him or what? Marcus, who up to now had been silent, offered his opinion, "Well, Farouk, it was good seeing you, but it's getting awfully late. The sun's almost completely gone, and you'd better start closing before any disreputables come along."

"Thank you, my boy, for your concern. You'd better get going, too, Marcus. And walk the lady home, will you? She's just slightly delicate," Farouk said conspiratorially.

"Delicate?! Excuse me! I am not delicate, thank you very much. I can most certainly walk home by myself, without some bodyguard!" Angela exclaimed.

Marcus chuckled. "How about if I just walk you home, as a friend? I won't be your bodyguard, dear Angela." She softened as this. Well, it's not everyday that a cute boy asks to take you home. Why not?

~*~

Final Author's Note

Hi everyone-

I have officially forsaken this story, as it is not going the way I had originally intended for it to go, and I simply don't have the time nor energy to give it the attention that it deserves. Even with the help of a wonderful beta reader, I have no more intentions of writing this story.

If you would like to give it a shot, please, you're more than welcome to. All I ask is that you tell me first. Thanks!

-Astronema

December 2003