Watching the Roman family upon their balcony, and her hands began to slowly work into tight fists, the knuckles whitening. Hearing that the first slaved called was a Roman caused her head to whip about, raven locks sweeping across eyes that now held a blue fire. Every muscle in her lucious fighting form tensed, the sun gleaming off sweaty and dusty flesh seeming to beg to be touched, whether by teeth or sword. Her breath came quicker, full globes rising and falling as she hissed through her teeth staring upon Antonius with what seemed like glee. Yet slowly she would lower her gaze again, the only sign of her agitation now being still the tenseness singing throughout her lithe frame. She must at least appear to be...obediant. The thought made a shudder run through her body, rose hued nipples tightening as she worked so hard to remain calm. She -must- get into the training yard...<br/><br/>As she continued to wait in line, waiting for the moment that the Master would pass down his judgement upon her, Luigsech allowed her hot gaze to roam again under thick lashed eyes now slightly hooded, her chin lowered just enough to seem perhaps meek. Falling upon all the weaponry, both wooden and steel. Aahhh to feel any of these within her palm! Fists opened and clenched at the simple thought. Training had stopped, and the line of slaves she was trussed up to was being observed by the other warriors as well as the trainers themselves.<br/><br/>A man with a whip upon his belt, obviously a trainer. Several more  muscled men. Her shadowed gaze falling upon a man wearing colors, he must be the Champion. Catalog and weigh. Ears perked as another another slave was shoved forward, yet her eyes kept tearing about her surroundings. Working to rake slowly over a large one that looked Norse, and this brought a feathered brow to wing upward slightly. My, my.. what a large one. And then..<br/><br/>Piercing cerulean would fall upon a man that caused her quickened breath to stop. Time would freeze, if only for her. A fellow countryman, he must be. Had he been in the same predicament as she? Fighting for Boudicca and the freedom of the tribes, even though they were not in their homeland? Bah! A pretty picture that. With a derisive snort to herself, an almost contemptuous curl of lush lips, she would pull her gaze from Rioghan, and once again pay attention to her fate.