Lys: Aithne The Tamed

Aithne's eyes wandered. There were more people than she expected for such a small town. But perhaps today was Market Day. Or perhaps a few slaves for sale was the biggest excitement they'd had in awhile. Some of the people looked Scotti- to her eyes, at least. But there were some Scotti and some Romans that looked as though they were the other.

Someone- a man, stopped before her and uttered a string of words she didn't understand. She guessed he was shopping for his wife. He just had that look about him. But that didn't help her understand. Her brow furrowed, and he tried again, this time in Latin. "What is your name, girl?"

Latin she could understand. It was one of the few things Roman that interested her. "I am Aithne." she said, drawing herself up and lifting her chin. Aithne, daughter of Dubhan the bard. And better in rank, I think, than you. Her temporary owner saw it and prodded her none too gently. She sighed, close to a huff, lowered her head, and answered. "I have been named Domitia."

The man raised an eyebrow. "I do not think it fits you." he said, then turned on his heel and walked off. She smiled, her eyes alight for the first time that day. "I do not think it fits you." No, it doesn't, and I'm glad to hear it from another.

Then she caught a disapproving glance from her seller and prayed she'd be bought. Otherwise, she knew, she'd pay for that interchange.

She looked around again, hoping to find someone who seemed interested. A movement on the edge of her vision caught her eye, and she looked over. Her eyes locked with a young woman on a pony- younger than her, though how much younger she couldn't discern. Who, in heaven's name, are you? She had a noble bearing, but didn't look as though she could afford slaves. Yet there she was, regarding the line as though she ruled the town. Aithne unwaveringly returned the gaze, scrutinizing the girl and her mount, looking for clues as to her identity.