<strong>~ <em>Valeria within the Ludus Villa</em> ~</strong><br/><br/>As with most occasions where 'guests' where expected, the hillside villa joined to the Ludus Leonis Scopulus Tarraconensis bustled with chaotic yet well bridled energy. The calm before the fire-storm known as the anxious wife to the Lanista, more commonly known simply as Domina, seethed with small mannerisms and short snappy orders that suggested her inner struggles.<br/><br/>“More water!” She commanded, having sunk to a reclining lounge chair. A delicate wrist adorned with gold threads and amber jewels repetitively flicked the embroidered fan she held. Dark locks of sweeping waves, most piled high atop her head save for the two strands at the front, which caught the lofting breeze of her incessant fanning.<br/><br/>True, the impending 'guests' were in fact only new slaves, but she still expects the villa interior to be immaculately presented. Should any slaves be worthy of household tasks, they should immediately recognise the standards she expects from their work. She had roused early and her two most trusted slaves had been ready to help her dress. Her hair had been styled fashionably, while soft, lilac and cream fabrics caresses her curvaceous, relatively tall form in gentle, floaty folds. Appearance was vital on all occasions, as the new arrivals would also need to realise that their domina was not a woman to be trifled with. Regardless of if their station would ultimately be in the Villa, or the Ludus, she was still a force to be reckoned with. Severely strict when needed, but when appeased and when trust is gained, she is seen to be a good-natured and wholesome woman. The mistress-slave pact is clear to the majority of her present cohorts; work hard, and be justly rewarded. None have complained so far and so she prides herself on the loyal stock she keeps.<br/><br/>Yet the villa was always kept in prime condition, so her mood transcended beyond this sudden desire to bark unnecessary orders from such painfully early hours. What truly irked her from the moment she had tossed and turned upon her pillow that morning, was the remembrance of how she had not been present to choose these new slaves. Not that she doubted the capabilities of her husband; he knew the arena better than the back of his hand and far better than she knew her own hand even. But the household domain was hers to command and maintain. What if he picked an incapable slave merely because it was cheap? Perish the thought. So she had been sour tempered once coin had slipped from husband's purse, but the façade had been difficult to maintain; he always had been a difficult man to refuse after the lights went out. Sometimes even her true name, Valeria, spoken on wine tainted lips, was more than enough coercion. Alas, today the fruits of that spent coin would be revealed, and Valeria above all hoped there would be no disappointments with the flock.<br/><br/>The heavy gates boomed and so Valeria suddenly sat upright, her fanning ceasing with the bated breath held behind lightly parted lips. The rhythmic clattering of hooves and turning of wheels upon grit and sand followed, spurring her to fluidly stand. In a gust of lilacs, cream and deeper lavenders, she fled to the outer balcony, hoping to catch a glimpse of the new arrivals. Expecting her most trusted of slaves to follow in her wake as the warmth of a calm, midday sun greeted her outside. She knew, deep down, that she should perhaps wait to follow behind husband, yet she was a woman of unchained curiosities. Besides, she was relatively concealed up on the balcony, and above all else, she was safe at that great, elevated height from the 'dogs' below. Dark eyes beneath dark and thickly inquiring brows watched as some bare, and some sandalled feet jumped down from the cart. Men whose position she was sure to be in the arena, but the women? Her fan shot loose again, and a single word escaped slightly strained vocal chords as she attempted to sweep away the rising heat of her temperament.<br/><br/>“Water.”<br/>