Application for Titus Pullo, Rome

[pullo_xiii]

Former legionary Titus Pullo, current captain of the Aventine collegium, stumbled out of his bed and into his clothes. A big man wearing the tunic of a commoner and soldier's caligae, he blearily made his way to the kitchen for breakfast, only to find that he was suddenly in a room that looked nothing like the wood and stone of his apartment on

Comments

[totallyluminous]

Mel is...very, very weird about Roman times, due to a mission that took place a while ago. However, in his favour:
*He doesn't seem to be all 'yeah, Nero rules'
*He seems as confused as anyone normally is around here so is probably not a master-planner
*He doesn't seem to be the type to spill wine all down his wife's expensive clothing at a posh meal to humiliate her because he's bored

There's the whole brothel-and-women-thing, but Mel's not gonna touch that for now. Fingering her angel tags--which have somehow been turned into her old bulla--she approaches.

'And they say thirteen's an unlucky number.'

[pullo_xiii]

"They do?" Pullo said, a confused look on his face. "Can't say I've ever heard that. 'Cept maybe from the Gauls." He cracked a smile at that. Those crazy Gauls.

[totallyluminous]

Mel smiles somewhat woodenly. 'No. I'm not a Gaul. I'm from Britannia. Or at least, that's where I lived.'

She removes the hand from her silver bulla with the sweet little bee design, and appears to be debating what to say next.

'I'm Mel,' she adds, trying to remind herself that, you know, angel, nice to everybody except demons trying to kill you, and trying not to slip totally back into her Roman cover story. Mella, slave to Aurelia.

[pullo_xiii]

"Britain? I'm sorry." He'd never actually been to Britain before, but counted himself lucky for it. Gaul had been miserable enough, all cold and rain. "You don't look much like the Celts I've met. Less hair and blue paint, for one. I don't think I've ever seen one dressed like you, either?" He squinted at the weave of the fabric she was wearing--very strange, that. "You've a pretty name, though."

[daxtastic]

A Roman! How fun!

Dax, coming straight from her morning exercises, still had a Bat'leth hooked securely around her back. The Tent Village was just a bit too crowded to safely practice. You were liable to poke a lobster's eye out!

She read over the application with a wry grin. "Can't say I've ever been to Narbo."

[pullo_xiii]

Well, that was interesting. He'd met a woman with spots before but it had been contagious and he had stayed well away from her. He hung back in case this was catching, too.

"It's as decent as any place in Gaul," he said, somewhat distracted by her weapon. "What's that you're carrying, then?"

[daxtastic]

"Oh, this old thing?" Dax reached back, and swung the weapon around with an easy grace. "Bat'leth." She held it out to the new applicant - because giving sharp, pointy things to Romans always ended well. "Feel free to give it a go."

[pullo_xiii]

He took it, careful not to touch her--who knows how pox were spread, after all--and hefted it experimentally. "Man could get used to this," he said, pleased. It was heavier than he preferred, though that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. "How's this work in a fight? Just--" he swung it awkwardly, careful to keep it facing away from the both of them.

[carri3_whit3]

Carrie put her hands on her (narrow) hips.

"What's wrong with skinny?!"

[pullo_xiii]

"They're liable to break," he said, genuinely confused. "Not healthy enough if they aren't eating, are they? Besides, I'd rather have a woman with some nice round bits, not a skinny little boy. Do I look Greek to you?"

[carri3_whit3]

"Oooohhhhh!" she huffed indignantly. "Those coins gold?"

[pullo_xiii]

"Silver," he said, showing her one. "Given to me by Octavian Caesar himself."

[margrat]

Gustav came in, still carrying his sword sheathed at his side, and nodded amiably at the new arrival after going over the application. "A few of those coins sounds good." He considered his next question, decided he might as well (just in case he ended up there as he'd ended up here), and lowered his voice. "And how about those brothels, then?"

[pullo_xiii]

He picked out a few more sestertii and handed them out and grinned. "A man after my own heart, then. See, in the Subura, there's whores everywhere, but most of them are diseased. The ones over by the temple of Venus Obsequens on the Aventine Hill--I can vouch for them personally. We try to keep some quality in our whores, eh? In Narbo... it helps to be less choosy there. It's all Gauls, of course, but soldiers get desperate sometimes."

Vote: Gryffindor

[margrat]

"Yes, don't we?" Gustav gave him a crooked smile back. "Well'n, all right if I vote you for Gryffindor? 's my own House."

Re: Vote: Gryffindor

[pullo_xiii]

"Suits me just fine. So you're a soldier, then? With who?"

[woocha]

Still unsorted, but seeing another person in the room, Wishbone's tail began to wag furiously. A Roman! How exciting!

[pullo_xiii]

((*dead at the icon*))

Pullo liked dogs. Now that the grain shortage was being sorted out, they were starting to come back to the Aventine--the threat of being eaten by desperate Romans was enough to scare just about anything off, he figured.

He crouched down and held a hand out. "Here, puppy," he called, adding in a whistle for good measure.

[woocha]

[I KNOW]

Fully encouraged by the whistle and the friendliness of the Roman, Wishbone ran up to him.

I'm here!

[pullo_xiii]

The sheer number of strange things happening in this gods-forsaken place was beginning to make Pullo's head hurt. Supposed beings from planets that didn't exist, tiny shrill demons, and now a dog who was talking to him. "Funny kind of place, isn't it?" he muttered to himself. To the dog, he kept smiling and reached out to scratch it behind its ears. "Do you have a name, dog?"