The white expanse of the villa's walls was now behind him, though Lorne, in the midst of his struggles, had never gotten a good look at it. He remembered trellises, and shy spring flowers, but little more. Lorne was resisting his captors with single-minded bitterness by this point, frightened of the men dragging him forward through a thick stone archway and out into a courtyard, shaking him violently by his collar when he tripped.<br/><br/>Once inside, Lorne paused in his struggles, allowing them to pull him forward, stumbling, a few steps so he could take in his lavish surroundings. There was an entrance to a stable along the left-hand wall, with horse scent and the stamping of hooves and whickering of the great beasts easily heard echoing out through the open doorway and square windows cut into the wooden walls.<br/><br/>Servants paused from their work in the courtyard, a man carrying a huge bowl of fruit staring, a woman who'd been scrubbing a mosaic that led into the main house with a rag she still had dipped into a big wooden basin brimming with soapy water, distracted for a moment by the entrance of Lorne, looking up curiously at the newcomers.<br/><br/>The house itself was an ornate monster of a thing, typically Roman with arching marble and beautiful polished stone, crisscrossed with gardens blooming with flowers that made Lorne's eyes widen, having never seen such well-tended beauty before, all vibrant colors, some with delicate fluted tops and others appearing to be a type of rose, though they looked nothing like the little primroses Lorne's mother had tended when she was still alive. There was nothing growing on the impressive walls of the house, though, which loomed stately and frightening over Lorne's head.