When ordered by Titus into the tent, Sejanus complied quickly, hurrying in with the two other legionaries who been barked at. She'd seen the livid look drawn across his face , and the pale terror of the young Decanus who'd come practically running from the tent just moments before. He wore his fear too openly, having not yet learned the stoic mask of calm worn by the veterans that made up her contubernium.
When you lived in constant fear, you learned to hide it well. A small part of her envied that young man, the life he must have lived to still be that naive and openly afraid... She shook her head, entering the cool tent.
Her orders were simple enough, guard the girls, make sure no one tried anything stupid like prisoners were wont to do. It wasn't like she had a contubernium to attend to or command or anything, not like this was a job for the lowest recruits. She sighed at being in the wrong place at the wrong time yet again, and wished she'd held onto her helmet. Without it she was often mistaken for a younger legionary thanks to her face.
The slightest frown curled her lips; had her old Centurion Agrippa been around today instead of this hot-blooded Titus... well, she couldn't blame him for not knowing. She'd been running into a lot more centuriae since the battle of the Dam and the ensuing push of NCR from their newly conquered territory. Still it irked her slightly to be mistaken for a recruit - she'd earned her rank with many deaths, including a few close calls on her part.
She looked around, coming face to face once more with those loathsome cowards. The women were mostly cowering together, some weeping, sobbing; others already looked hollow in dead inside. She sneered at how easily broken they were. This, -this- is what separated her from them. She noticed one of the other men grabbing at one of the girls, her begging chokes and sobs doing nothing to dissuade his fun.
"I wouldn't do that," Sejanus warned him dryly.
He looked up scowling, demanding, "And why not? They're ours to play with, no? Or do you prefer the boys?" he grinned.
"I prefer not having to answer for your idiocy. If Centurion Titus returns to see you playing with his things it'll be ALL our hides."
Before he could respond the tent opened once more and a pale weasel of a man man walked in. She recognized him right away as one of Crassus' men in charge of slave affairs and division. This couldn't be good.
"By order of Licinius Crassus, the Consul Officiorum ab Famulatus, you are to escort these captures for division and -"
"Just tell us where to herd them," she snapped, interrupting the whining drawl of the slaver. "I don't need to hear all this that and the other about the fucking Consul's titles. I swear he adds one on every time I turn around.."
The little man puffed indignantly but saw the look in her eye and decided against protest. "You are to escort them to the quarters by the bank for shipping back home. Centurion Titus Vulcanus has been permitted to keep one as his own, though." With that he stormed out.
Sejanus looked over the haul, ordering the two legionaries to get them moving.
"Which should we leave for the Centurion, sir?" asked one, a shocked look at how she'd spoken to the Consul's man still in his eye.
She frowned gazing about. Most of the girls were rather plain, hardly a prize worthy of a Centurion's victory. "Her," she said, deciding on the girl on the bed. She had seen the girl squirming at the execution, nearly retching at one point. Sejanus smiled, what better fate for that kind of weakness? Titus would be just the reward such a creature deserved.
"He already seems to have taken a liking to her, and she's pretty enough. I'm sure he won't complain at such a prize. Now come on, get moving. We don't want the precious Consul to actually lift a finger or anything. Let's go," and with that they left, escorting the pathetic lot towards the bank.
Aurora was the last of the women dragged in and the first he grabbed. Her guilty thought came back to bite her as he threw her unceremoniously to the bed.
Her face pressed against the rough fabric of his bedding, it stank of male sweat. Her nose crunched slightly, as he pushed her down, the cartilage protesting the treatment but not snapping.
She was in the worst possible position, instead of being one of his later victims, she was his first. The other women would be able to prepare for their ordeals. But not Aurora.
She sobbed at the pain in her nose, and a startled sob escaped her lips add he roughly pulled her back to a position that he favoured. Her heart beat out a tattoo of fear.
Her panic sicken mind sought solace in memories that were far more pleasant, but the situation was far too stressful and all she could do was breathe great sobbing breaths as he prepared to take her.
She was granted a last minute reprieve when the Decanus arrived and stammered his orders to the Centurion. He was obviously not happy to have his 'toy' denied him so suddenly, but she was thankful for small mercies.
She sobbed quietly among the rumpled bed clothes and oulled her slave dress over her knees in an attempt at modesty while the other guards came to watch over them.
The other girls watched their guards with wide eyes, Elliott tried to catch her eye, perhaps they could escape, but Aurora knew better.
Where would they go? They wouldn't get five steps before they would be caught and adorning a cross. Aurora shook her head slightly discouraging Ellie.
The flap to the centurions tent opened and a pompous looking man arrived and ordered the women to be taken to be moved. Ellie looked to her friend, fear playing across her features.
The soldiers escorted the women, the one who seemed in charge pointed at her.
It seemed that Aurora would be staying.
"Fuck" she thought.
The centurion returned to his tent and threw his helmet to the ground in frustration. An act better suited to her five year old nephew, but wisely she kept her opinion to herself.
He threw her from his bed to the ground where she rolled to her knees.
"Fetch me a drink." He had ordered her. "Now"
Aurora scrambled to her feet and went to a table where a pitcher of water was standing with a set of glasses. She picked the cleanest one and with shaking hands poured the Centurion a glass of water. She gently replaced the pitcher, trying not to clunk the glassware on the table.
She took a steadying breath and picked up the glass.
Her hands trembled lightly as she turned to him and moved forward.
She went to her knees before him and lowered her head, as she offered the glass of water to her captor in upraised and still trembling hands.
"Y-your drink, s-ir." She stammered nervously.
Titus gulped down the water and sighed. He hadn't realised how parched or exhausted he was. The battle, the stained homecoming - and tomorrow morning, he and the men he brought home would have to return to Forlorn Hope to make it a fully fledged Legion Encampment.
Titus was not looking forward to the long march back west, or having his belongings moved down into the filthy installation the NCR used to call a camp. He had his eye on Camp Golf: the home of the NCR Rangers in the Mojave, and a large portion of the NCRs ground forces. Taking that objective would put him in good stead to succeed Lanius should the legate ever fall in battle. Unlikely.