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

[romaneseuntdomus]

Esca frowns, thinking. "The Romans eat honey and apples after meals. It is not a British custom." He shrugs. He was never much fond of the habit, himself, but who knows.

[marthy]

"Huh. I didn't know that." Based on how much Dad likes pudding, you'd think it was as English as roast beef. Martha stops at a little shop that boasts soft-serve and a variety of toppings. "Well, we won't have honey and apples, so it won't be too Roman. Have you ever had ice cream before?"

[romaneseuntdomus]

It's pretty English, but Esca is a Briton. Barley and seal across the sky. "Ice... cream? I have had cold milk, of course..." He feels very confused. Is this what talking to him is like, for her? He hopes not.

[marthy]

Oh, to be as good a Briton as Esca. Martha grins at him--she was hoping he hadn't--and then makes her way behind the counter. "It's like cold milk, but...colder, I guess. And sweeter, and sort of solid. And you can put all sorts of things on it--they've got crushed-up biscuits here, and chocolate sauce, and fruit..." As she speaks, she finds the plastic dishes (he can graduate to cones some other time) and figures out the soft-serve machine. Twist ice cream for her, and for him--well, she'd better ask. "There're two flavours, chocolate and vanilla. Here, you can try a bit of mine and tell me which you want. Or you can have both." She hands him a spoon and the dish of twist ice cream.

[romaneseuntdomus]

And so Esca is left with a tiny bowl of twist ice cream. It is cold to the touch, and when he pokes it, wet. He watches Martha eat first, wanting to understand properly, before taking the spoon and lifting a small sliver of ice cream to his mouth. "Mmph," he says. He swallows before continuing. "It's so cold." Like eating ice in winter, but smoother, and with the flavor of milk... he understands the name, now.

[marthy]

"Oh, yeah--I guess I should've warned you. Sorry about that." Martha watches his face intently for his opinion. "The white ice cream is vanilla and the brown ice cream is chocolate. Which flavour do you want?"

[romaneseuntdomus]

"Ah," he says. "I cannot taste a difference." Perhaps, in Martha's time, one can distinguish such things. For Esca, all he can tell is that it's cold. "Strange," he says. "But I do like it. Thank you, Martha."

[marthy]

"They're not very strong flavours, I guess. Do you want anything on your ice cream?" She fills another cup with twist ice cream before smothering it in hot fudge, caramel, and Oreos. "It's good plain, too, but if you want sprinkles or something..."

[romaneseuntdomus]

Esca looks at her food curiously, trying to make up his mind. While the extra flourishes seem optional, he supposes eating them is essential to understanding the dish. "What do you suggest? What are... sprinkles?"

[marthy]

"Hmmm. It depends on how much you like sweet things. If you're not a big fan, fruit might be a better idea." Martha finds a container of rainbow-coloured sprinkles and places it in front of Esca, using a spoon to scoop out some sprinkles and let them fall back into the container. "These are sprinkles. They don't taste like much, but they look nice. These are bits of candy, these are bits of biscuits, and these over here--" for she's been gesturing to the various things as she speaks--"are syrups. They're warm."

[romaneseuntdomus]

In an attempt to understand the appeal of ice cream, Esca ends up trying a tiny bit of all the toppings that look edible. He ends up mostly with fruit and whatever's brightly colored, not quite trusting whatever chocolate is. He finds the stuff much more palpable with the additional elements, and eats a bit more enthusiastically. "Thank you," he says. "It's... very interesting." He tries to understand how alien his food must seem to her, and understands better her objection to seal, now.

[marthy]

Martha watches him pile on the toppings with something like amusement; his dish looks really nice, if not the kind of sundae she goes for when she really needs a pick-me-up. (There's not a hint of chocolate, as far as she can tell.) "You're welcome," she says brightly, running her spoon along her own dessert. "Ice cream's my favourite for dessert."

[romaneseuntdomus]

"Which... is eaten after dinner? And is ice cream?" He's trying to learn, really. He hates being left in the dark about things.

[marthy]

"Uh-huh!" Martha nods. "Of course, it's not always ice cream--you could have cake or pie or biscuits or fruit or whatever else you like--but ice cream's my favourite."

[romaneseuntdomus]

"I think," Esca says, smiling faintly. "After this, I've no more room for... deserts."