ROMANI ITE DOMUM.

[romaneseuntdomus]

Esca doesn't realize he's walked through any door, at first, because the door to the peristyle at the Aquila Vila don't have doors, precisely. It takes Esca a moment to realize what's happened, and in that moment he walks into and onto a bed, of the softest quality he's ever encountered. The shift in perception shocks him further, and he turns, scaring and confused. An open door behind him leads back to the garden. But here... There are things to explore. Gently, he closes the door, and walks out.

The floor is soft under his feet, softer than fresh grass, and the air is pleasantly chilled like the best days at home. There are shining metal boxes open, but nothing happens when he walks inside, and eventually he finds stares that take him to identical rooms. None of the doors are locked, though it does take Esca some time to understand that one must twist the handle to open them.

He repeats this descent until he finds himself in a large room full of color and sound; multiple booths call out to him like sirens, and he is at once curious and skeptical. He wishes he had brought a sword. As is, in a shirt and braccae, he feels slightly exposed.

He climbs atop one of the nearest flashing booths, this one bright yellow and shouting about 'slots'. Crouching, he cups his hands around his mouth and calls out to allies. "Am I alone? Show yourself, friend! I mean no harm, and have naught which you could steal."

Comments

[marthy]

Wandering into Coquaigne was an accident and a first for Martha--she's never been here before, nor has she ever made such a leap through space and time before now. It was also remarkably well-timed; after her latest argument with Emily, she needs some time to herself. So she's willing to go with the fact that she seems to have stepped into a hotel when she really meant to go into the loo, especially since it's so nice.

After a bit of wandering, she's even willing to put up with the only other persons she's seen so far, a nutter standing up on one of the slot machines and shouting. After a moment's consideration, she cups her hands around her mouth to help her voice carry as she calls back, "Over here, mate."

[romaneseuntdomus]

Esca turns to hear the voice, and upon seeing her, smiles faintly. The smile sits oddly upon his face-- it has become unaccustomed to joy, and has more frown lines than otherwise-- but it's there. Thank Lugh, a Briton. When he calls out to her, he speaks in British, though unbeknownst to him, the magic of Coquaigne translates it anyway.

"Hello!" He jumps down from the booth, landing on his feet with grace, and begins to pad over to her. "Did you disappear into this strange land also?"

[marthy]

"Hi." She meets him halfway, noting his bare feet and the oddly homespun quality of his clothes. Martha's not sure what this bloke's story is, but she suspects it's interesting. "I guess you could say that. It's not where I was planning on going, anyway."

After a moment, she asks, "Where are you from?" Maybe that'll explain his appearance.

[romaneseuntdomus]

"Myself also. This is like nothing I have ever seen." He stares out around them in wonder, the same twitchy smile stretched across his face. "Oh- but I am from Eboracon." Perhaps it's safer not to mention having lived in Calleva, of late; Esca turns his head to hide his left ear, clipped like a lamb's. "You?"

[marthy]

"Eboracon? Where's that?" Everything about him is strange--after all, Martha's never actually been to a casino before, but she knows what they look like. They don't exactly inspire his apparent awe in her. He's going to take some figuring out.

In answer to his question, she says, "My family live in Dartmouth, but I'm in London for uni." The latter is a new development--she's just finishing up her first year of university--so it's still fun to explain the whole thing.

[romaneseuntdomus]

This gives Esca pause. Everyone's heard of Eboracon. "Eboracum, the Romans call it." He gives something of a sneer. "And now I am at a loss: where is Dartmouth? Uni?" Uni sounds Roman. Maybe this girl is assimilated, perhaps she is a southerner, content and lazy and lost.

[marthy]

Martha frowns. The Romans? And a name like Eboracum really does sound like Latin. Is he taking the piss out of her? He sounds completely serious, but maybe he's just really deadpan.

"Dartmouth's in the south of England," she says. Most people she's met have heard of it, though there are occasionally people who aren't very familiar with Devon. Maybe he's one of them. Answering his second question feels a little stranger. "And, uh, uni. You know, university? I'm studying to be a translator."

[romaneseuntdomus]

This is all confusing, and the last bit of Esca's smile fades, leaving him with that hard grimace to which he's more used. This is no countrywoman after all-- she is, he realizes now, improperly dressed anyway, hardly anyone inclined to be his ally. "I have never heard of such places. Where is England? In Gaul?" He does not comment on university, it sounding like nothing familiar. He did not know one needed to study to translate-- he translates all the time without an ounce of study behind it.

[marthy]

"Where's England?" She smothers a laugh--Martha is eighteen and exactly as mature as that implies. It seems like the stupidest possible question; everyone knows where England is, it's not hard to find on a map. "Foggy little island next to France? Under Scotland, a little to the right of Wales?"

[romaneseuntdomus]

Esca's mouth sets into a sharp, straight line, and he squares his shoulders, pushing himself to his full height, an impressive 5'7. He does not relish being laughed at. Voice completely even, he says, "I have never heard of any of those places. I have never left Britannia." Perhaps she'll think him some backwards bumpkin and leave him alone.

[marthy]

"Brittania? So, Britain. Same thing--you're from England, too." Martha's about the same height, but she doesn't try to draw herself up in return; she's not taking this quite so seriously. That earlier niggling confusion has returned, though. It feels she's missing just one or two pieces to the puzzle of a man before her, but it's impossible to get a sense of who he is without them. "D'you really call it Brittania?"

[romaneseuntdomus]

Esca sniffs, somewhere between a sneer and a laugh. "We do not call it Britannia, it is a thousand different kingdoms, each which its own name. They call it Britannia for their own ease of reckoning."

[marthy]

"They? Who's 'they'?" Because England hasn't been a thousand different kingdoms since...oh.

Hey, wait.

Martha frowns.

"You're, uh. You're talking about the Romans again, aren't you."

[romaneseuntdomus]

There's a scoff. "Who else? The Gauls aren't much likely to invade."

[marthy]

Well, that only lends credence to the possibility that he's serious. "You'd know better than me. What, uh, what year do you think it is?"

[romaneseuntdomus]

This takes Esca a moment to calculate; he has little training with sums. Further, he's not quite sure why this woman is asking, but she is a strange creature through and through, and Esca isn't much inclined to show any ignorance after being laughed at. Perhaps things will balance out. "Eight hundred... ninety-five since the founding. The Brigantes do not count years so peevishly, though it is my twenty-third."

[marthy]

Well, that's about as clear as mud. Martha can do C.E. and B.C.E., but not...founding dates, whatever those are. "Since the founding of what?"

[romaneseuntdomus]

Esca frowns. Does she really come from a place untouched by Rome? "Of Rome, of course. Ab Urbe Condita."

[marthy]

"Oh," she says faintly, eyes widening. Well, she's willing to believe him--if she can wander into a casino in 2020, why can't someone else do the same a few thousand years ago? It's not like he got those clothes from Benetton.

It stops making sense if she thinks about it too long, but so dos the fact that her toilet was replaced with a hotel in the first place. "That's...that's a long time ago, where I'm from. That's all."

[romaneseuntdomus]

This gives Esca more cause to frown. "A long time ago? Antonius' rule?" He takes a moment, quiet and to himself, to stare at his feet and puzzle this out. "I've no reason to disbelieve you, and you've none to lie. But... that is nothing I have ever heard..." A thought strikes him, then, and eyes wide he asks: "And you have never heard of Eboracon?"

[marthy]

"Thousands of years." Martha can be helpful! Here, she'll let you know just how far away your experience is from hers, Esca. And sometimes she can actually even come close to the mark on that; she wants to reassure him after his face grows worried and surprised at the revelation that she hasn't the faintest idea where Eboracon is. "It might still exist--we might just call it something else. I mean, London still exists, and the Romans called that Londinium. Didn't they?"

[romaneseuntdomus]

Esca knows he's being reassured like some skittish child, but in this moment of lonely weakness, he'll take it. There are no men here to judge him lacking. "They do- they did. Do they not, any longer?"

[marthy]

"Now it's London. It's a really great city--my brother and I both go to uni there." She's racking her brain for places that sound like 'Eboracon' and can't come up with any. Except maybe Edinburgh, but he doesn't sound Scottish. Of course, the accent's probably different two thousand years on, so she probably can't rely on that for anything. "I'm Martha, by the way."

[romaneseuntdomus]

"U-uni. To study." Perhaps that putrid port city now boasts libraries and colleges. Esca thinks of how many things have changed in the world since he was six, and cannot begin to imagine all the changes that have likely happened with so many more years added on. He finds the questions that grasp his interest most-- did we defeat the Romans? Do the dark people still live on beyond the wall?-- he does not want to ask, for fear of receiving an answer he cannot stand. "I have never been to Londiniu- London. But I am Esca Mac Cunoval." She did not give her entire name, of course, but not all women do.

[marthy]

Martha wasn't sure if they had last names in those times--ancient history wasn't her favourite subject (or, at least, not British ancient history). But if they do, she supposes she won't confuse him if she gives him hers. "Martha Laurence-Tharkay. It's nice to meet you."