Application: Quintus Lentulus Batiatus (Spartacus : Blood and Sand)

[masteroftitans.livejournal.com]

((WARNING: CONTAINS SPOILERS for Spartacus: Blood and Sand, season 1.))

A middle-aged man of unimpressive stature, dressed in the garments of a successful Roman and drenched in blood, appeared on the floor of the Sorting Room. After a moment, he stood up, looking around. There was supposed to be a river. And a ferryman. And a three-headed dog. But, there wasn't. There was only a strange room, without a trace of sand or blood anywhere. Except on his garments, which were drenched in it. His hand sought his neck as he took in his surroundings, lingering there a moment, and he frowned.

It was no surprise that the priests were full of shit. Not that he'd ever spent much time on religion- he was a practical man, of keen and lofty ambitions. Or, he had been, until the gods had seen fit to spread his legs and ram their collective cock up his ass. Such a complex and delicate plan, one that was sure to see his house continue its rise to a proper status. A plan that was going to extend his grasp to Rome, and a seat in the Senate itself. A plan that was admittedly founded on a somewhat shaky pillar, and thus a gamble. But a gamble he'd not expected to lose so dramatically, so thoroughly.

Death was the sort of major event that caused everything proceeding it to be seen a new light. A stark light of plain detail and contrasts, rendering a picture in crisp shades of distant grey. Quintus Lentulus Batiatus, now dead and presuming himself to be in a very unexpected version Hades, could look back and see just how much of a gamble it had been. The Thracian wasn't just a shaky pillar, he was a fucking wild bull, and a wily bastard as well. Something had occurred which he'd not anticipated, somehow, Spartacus had found out the truth regarding his wife- he'd seen it in his eyes for days. But, he'd never thought the Thracian would be fool enough to rise up and stampede the whole damned herd, and while representation from legatus Glaber's troops were present.

But the Thracian hadn't been the only factor. He should have had the former Champion of Capua slain as soon as he became a household issue, but he'd held back to dispose of him to the best advantage. And it was this factor that had been the undoing of his house. Spartacus had never held a place of high respect amongst his brothers- he was too damned wild and independent. The whole herd would not have followed him. But Crixus. . .

Batiatus looked around, a certain expectancy in his gaze. But, his eyes found nothing apart from the empty room- this was not the hell he'd expected, not at all. A barely-whispered word escaped his lips, "Lucretia." She wasn't here. Her absence kindled a fleeting hope- could his house live on? But, it was a very fleeting hope- there wasn't a dead Roman in sight aside from him, and his own life's blood had been but a small amount amongst the flood those wild dogs had spilled. As he looked around, his eyes lit on the paper. The writing was unfamiliar, yet he could read it. Last he recalled, there wasn't a written portion involved in afterlife dispensation, but, perhaps hell was so busy today that they found themselves lacking in personal representation.

State your full name.
"Quintus Lentulus Batiatus."

He cocked a strange look at the quill as it began copying his answers. But, it was difficult to be shocked by animated quills when faced with the self-awareness of death.

1. What is your favorite cheese? Why is it your favorite?

"What does fucking cheese have to do with anything?"

After getting so thoroughly fucked by the gods, Batiatus wasn't feeling inclined to good manners.

2. Who would you kill first, Barney or Carrottop?

Was this supposed to be some sort of joke? "Why the fuck should I care? I don't know who either of these people are. They can both die, for all I care, and. . . answer moronic questions." Batiatus wasn't an incredibly patient man, and the questions were already wearing on him. "Where's the fucking ferry and the dog? What sort of cheap, half-assed hell is this supposed to be?" He glowered at the quill as it took down his words.

3. What time is it where you are?

"Do I even need to answer that? I'm dead. Time doesn't matter anymore." But, it was curious just how alive he felt, for being dead. He was in possession of all his normal faculties, and somehow the huge gash in his throat was closed. But, his robes were still covered in the evidence of his demise, and he wasn't at his villa anymore, so it had obviously happened.

4. If you were Albus Dumbledore returned from the dead, which member of the Order of the Phoenix would you sexually harass? How would you harass them? If you are Albus Dumbledore, please answer as if you were Sirius Black.

"Jupiter's cock!" Although 'sexually harass' made sense, and the bit about returning from the dead was slightly interesting, the rest of the sentence was complete nonsense. "What is this nonsense? How am I supposed to know of the perverse desires of this 'Albus Dumbledore'?"


5. If you are pushing to be in:

A. Slytherin - please state the clever, witty name of the bar in which you bartend, in the dark.

"Since when did mortals get to have a say in their eternal fate? Why should I bother to please the judges when I already know that no matter what I do, the gods will laugh as they shove cock up ass. What does a name matter, once fallen into darkness? 'House of Batiatus' will do." He smirked. His line was ended. It was all over. The House of Batiatus, just another name that would fall into the darkness of the past, to be forgotten.

B. Gryffindor – Debate whether Harry should ultimately end up married to Fred or George. Use examples from a variety of world mythologies to bolster your argument.

This was getting inane. "What the hell do I care who some person named Harry chooses to wed? Whichever one has the higher social standing."

C. Ravenclaw – You guys are supposed to be smart. Explain why my desk is inundated with paperwork at all times, even though I’m constantly disposing of it.

"Not enough slaves," Batitatus snapped impatiently. "You'd think the underworld would have no shortage." He was, however, beginning to suspect that death was not very different from life.

D. Hufflepuff – Prove you are not useless.

"Why? I'm fucking dead."

6. Offer a bribe to the members of this community so that they will not squib you. Items used in bribery do not necessarily have to belong to the person offering the bribe. Do not threaten us rather than offering a bribe. A threat indicates you either don't really want to be here, or don't have enough sense to answer the question properly. The hat will automatically squib you, regardless of other votes, if you do.

Batiatus pulled a golden aureus from a small pouch. He tossed the coin beside the parchment. He doubted it was worth much- if the afterlife followed tradition, the ferryman would have taken the requisite coin by now.

Comments

[woocha.livejournal.com]

*sniff sniff sniff*

I smell blood!

Yes, thank you Wishbone.

[masteroftitans.livejournal.com]

Well, there was the dog. But, it was rather small, and lacking two heads. Why the hell had he been sent to a shoddy afterlife where they couldn't even afford a proper Cerberus? His house may not have held as high a status as he thought it deserved, but, surely it held enough to warrant a decently three-headed dog?

And did it just talk? He'd never recalled the priests mentioning this bit- from what he'd interpreted Cerberus just growled and snapped a lot, mainly at those trying to leave the underworld. He didn't remember it caring much about those who entered.

"One would think that the smell of blood is a common aroma in hell," Batiatus told the quite unimpressive 'Cerberus'.

[vislor-turlough.livejournal.com]

"This isn't hell, this is a school to learn magic. Though considering we're on Earth, we could call it close to hell."

[masteroftitans.livejournal.com]

Batiatus stared at Turlough a moment- despite his strange dress, he appeared to be a flesh-and-blood, living man, and, not a shade. He definitely wasn't the ferryman, having far too much skin for the job. He could only stand blankly a moment, attempting to decipher the man's unexpected words.

"If this is a . . .school, how the hell did I get here? Last I knew, a fucking sword through the neck was a fast trip to the underworld." There was no denying that he felt alive, but, the logic of it was absurd. Death wasn't a matter that was easy to forget, or to confuse.

[arrakis-savior.livejournal.com]

"Time matters even to the man who has entered eternity."

Paul shared this aphorism with grave and tranquil mien.

[masteroftitans.livejournal.com]

This sort of bullshit, delivered with a grave demeanor, was somewhat more in tune with what he'd expected in an afterlife encounter. But, the man appeared as solidly alive as he himself still did.

"And you say this based upon personal experience? Or are you supposed to be some sort of psychopomp, spewing bits of bullshit 'wisdom' to convince me to embrace my fate and accept my transition? If you are, don't waste your time- if the gods had given a shit about my house and its fortunes, I wouldn't be here yet."

[shifter-mordi.livejournal.com]

Mordi was definitely adding Jupiter's cock! to his repertoire.

"So what did you do to get screwed over so badly?" He doubted that the gods really had anything to do with it. As the man said, they were too concerned with shoving cock up ass to be concerned about the trials of Mortals.

[masteroftitans.livejournal.com]

"Not a damned thing, that I know of." Batiatus shrugged. Although he was not a particularly religious man, he'd also never defied his religion, and had offered up the blood of many a gladiator in the arena. If the Gods actually gave a shit about people, it didn't seem likely that he'd be on their bad side. "I don't think they care about anything aside from their own amusement- they grant fortune when it entertains them, and, shove cock up ass when the urge strikes." Batiatus was quite fond of this description of bad fortune.

[sincethe900s.livejournal.com]

Holy Roman Empire noted Batiatus' clothes and name with a thrill of excitement. Hadn't Austria said that a few of Roman Empire's bosses used to be here? So surely it wouldn't be impossible for more Roman citizens to show up.

"Did you belong to Roman Empire?" he asked hopefully.

[masteroftitans.livejournal.com]

Batiatus looked curiously at the young boy- at this point, he was starting to get used to people in odd clothing asking him questions. But, at least this child was not a talking dog, and, he was aware of the Roman Empire. He answered him quite politely, as the unknown child could be anyone's son, and possibly that of someone who mattered at whatever this place was. "Yes, I am- or was- a citizen of Rome. I was the master of a ludus near Capua." He left off the bit about 'until my slaves revolted'. It didn't sound good, and didn't seem that straightforward honesty was going to win points in this strange 'afterlife', which in his opinion was a good thing. It wasn't one of his strong points.

[pullo-xiii.livejournal.com]

So the fellow was another Roman, eh? Name like that, he'd have to be. And the whole "Jupiter's cock!" thing. Pullo hadn't met any others in his time here who cursed with those particular words.

"This isn't Hades, friend," he said, looking quite odd in his now-customary Hawaiian shirt open over a more usual Roman-style tunic. "Least, so far as I know. I was quite alive when I came to be here." He looked at the aureus with great interest. "You got any more of those, then?"

[masteroftitans.livejournal.com]

Pullo's Hawaiian shirt caused Batiatus to look at the man a bit warily for a second- Pullo was by far the most normal looking person he'd met yet at Hogwarts, aside from this detail, which was all the more glaring due to its incongruent combination with the familiar. But after a short observation, he had to admit that the shirt was one of the more attractive strange garments he'd seen thus far at Hogwarts due to its lively dyes and patterns, and his origin in a time where bright, vivid dyes were a luxury item.

"So I've been told, but I'm still not sure if I should be relieved. At least hell's something I understand, or, something I thought I did. This. . ." He gestured about the oddly-decorated room, unsure what exactly to call it. "I don't know what the fuck to make of it. Were you also spirited here?"

Batiatus was beginning to agree with those who suggested that Hogwarts was not actually the underworld, so was beginning to regret his attempt to pay the ferryman. A golden coin was a golden coin, and, not anything he was happy to part with for no reason. "I might- but if this isn't hell, I'm not in the mood to play fast and loose with my finances." He smirked slightly, adding, "Now, if you happen to have another of those remarkably hued garments. . ." He eyed the shirt with no less interest than Pullo showed the aureus. It was a pretty great garment, whatever it was.

[joachim-armster.livejournal.com]

((Can Joachim read his mind, or would you prefer not? The most he'd use the info for would be to taunt Batiatus and/or play 20 questions about Batiatus' life, unless any more interesting plotty reasons crop up as they talk.))

So there wasn't likely to be a multiple headed hound to greet Batiatus on his sojourn into the wonderful hell that was Hogwarts, but there was a silver-furred, blue-eyed warg the size of a horse there, lazily sizing the man up as he sauntered around him once.

Joachim stopped in front of the applicant and sat back on his haunches, jaws parted and elongated canine teeth bared in a parody of a grin. It quite nearly managed to be a friendly expression.

"The application is incredibly asinine, isn't it?" he asked rhetorically, his speech accented, but not in any particular way that Batiatus might recognise. "And this is no underworld, as you've no doubt been informed by now, though it does in many ways operate like one. Oh, you shall find that out yourself soon enough..." He audibly sniffed as he tilted his head, seeming to look through Batiatus rather than at him. The sweet scent of blood was a little distracting, though not so much that he'd try snacking on the applicant any time soon, unlike a certain tormented sparklepire who was undoubtedly giving the Sorting Room a mile-wide berth by now. "You mentioned slaves."

[masteroftitans.livejournal.com]

((Go for it, I don't mind. =D Poor Bati's had a really bad day, but, he's not the sort to snap merely because of a mind-reading vampiric canine. XD Edited for a small clarification.))

Having died already that day, Batiatus merely found the sight of a properly Hades-sized canine interesting, and not shocking- even if he was beginning to doubt that Hogwarts was an 'underworld' in any sense he was familiar with. And, as Joachim had but one head, it presumably wasn't Cerberus. He eyed the creature approvingly, death and his sudden relocation failing to prevent his mind from leaping to the remarkable potential of such a beast. Although Batiatus had only trained men to fight in the arena, and not beasts, this sort of beast could be worth something. Animals didn't usually survive the arena, but, this one looked as if it would have an excellent chance.

He'd already met a talking dog, so, the enormous wolf sitting down and beginning to talk came as no surprise. The gears in his mind immediately added 'talking' to the equation of 'horse-sized silver wolf' in his head- such a beast wouldn't be worth something, it would be worth a lot. Batiatus looked at Joachim directly as he spoke, not flinching or showing an ounce of fear as he sniffed. He might have been slaughtered not long ago, but, this single event couldn't break a lifetime's worth of experience as a lanista. He was extremely used to the company of dangerous things. "I've been told it is a school to learn. . . magic." He'd not really focused on what sort of school the red-headed man had called Hogwarts until now- he'd been too occupied with presuming it a weird Hades. "Why the fuck I've ended up at a school for magic instead of in my proper place in hell's beyond me. I did mention slaves- I am, or was, a lanista. I dealt in gladiators, not portents and sorcery." He was exasperated, although this wasn't directed so much at what seemed to be a huge talking wolf, than at the Hogwarts experience in general, as was the muttered bit of vulgarity which escaped his lips. "Jupiter's cock! A magic school. . ." Properly dead may well have been easier to adapt to than such nonsense. At least his wife might have been with him then- and suffering in Tartarus with her by his side seemed preferable to his current situation, which was fucking weird.

[best-guitarist.livejournal.com]

With a bit of ingenious spellwork from the aforementioned sparklepire, Skwisgaar-as-a-mercreature was able to more easily move about when necessary by this point, having been effectively charmed to levitate with a near-invisible film of water constantly flowing over his skin and gills whenever he was on dry ground. He'd been returning from a trip to the lake when he'd noticed the brutal giant fucking wolf wandering the hallways, and had gotten distracted following him, hoping to possibly ask for a ride or to at least get him to come back to Hufflepuff so he could show Toki. Even at an insane place like Hogwarts giant wolves weren't an every day occurrence.

Skwisgaar only managed to catch up in the sorting room, and was surprised to see it so crowded. Another random jackoff must have been brought to the castle, and judging by the look of the old dude with blood drenched clothes, it was probably him. The Swede had arrived in time to hear most of the guy's answers, so didn't bother even picking up a copy of the application, instead "swimming" over to check him out more closely.

"Pfft, mights as well keeps your money, nobodys here needs it. De castle gives to you whatsevers yous want," he informed Batiatus, using the application table to pull himself higher, about to the level where he'd be if he had legs. His clawed hands left wet spots on the wood. "Brutals," he said as he got a better look at all the blood. "So yous likes to bathes in bloods, eh? I's done that in music videos and de live shows before, was pig bloods or something, de dildos crysbaby animals people gots all mad and shits their pants about it." He paused, raising an eyebrow. "Yous talk about cocks a lot, dids you knows that?"

[masteroftitans.livejournal.com]

Despite having already encountered talking canines, as well as having been transported to some weird school after not dying very properly, the appearance of Skwisgaar caused Batiatus to just stare at him a moment with utter incredulity. He'd seen plenty of tritones depicted in religiously-inspired art, usually in conjunction with sea gods, but, to see what appeared to be a very real one, floating in the middle of a room and without a drop of water in sight was absolutely absurd. But now that Batiatus had realize that he wasn't exactly dead, the thought patterns which had dominated his life were once more operative, and, he couldn't help but try and estimate the exceptional monetary value of such an unusual creature.

He'd expected the triton to speak far more eloquently, but, it seemed that even talking dogs had higher faculties of speech than Skwisgaar. Luckily, Batiatus was experienced in dealing with all sorts of foreigners and accents, as, his gladiators had come from diverse origins. Still, it took him a moment to decipher Skwisgaar's speech, which left him sure that he was in a much, much stranger place than Hell could ever be. Money being unimportant? This seemed stranger than any amount of talking canines and living tritones.

It was rare that Batiatus found himself without a response, but, it took him a moment to figure out how to respond to Skwisgaar. On top of the strangeness, the bit about music videos was confusing- 'live shows' made sense, public slaughter made perfect sense, but, Batiatus felt that he probably wasn't grasping what Skwisgaar meant. The only things that really made any sense were Skwisgaar's oddly-phrased but perfectly understandable vulgarities, the suggestion that he'd covered himself in blood deliberately, and his comment about cocks. "I prefer watching others bathe in blood, when it's profitable." Although Batiatus was a cruel man, who'd eliminate any obstacle or enemy without mercy, he wasn't sadistic. Just practical. He paused before addressing any of Skwisgaar's other odd comments. "I don't know what the hell you mean by 'videos'. And most people spend at least half their time thinking about cocks, cunts, and coupling, even if they won't admit it. . ." He paused again briefly, before barking, "And what sort of fucking place doesn't require money? That makes less sense than the talking dogs, and the 'magic' school shit, and. . .you. Why are you floating in a magic school? Aren't you supposed to be in a fucking ocean? Jupiter's cock. . ." Batiatus' outburst trailed off into a sigh- it hadn't really been directed at Skwisgaar so much as everything that had happened to him thus far that day. Unexpected slave revolts were beginning to seem downright ordinary compared to the rest of it.

[shito-is-a-kun.livejournal.com]

"You're dead, too?" Shito asked, wandering over. "A zombie, then?" He didn't have the ability to see the black ring that would have marked him as such. He wondered if he could collect bounty on those walking dead here.

[masteroftitans.livejournal.com]

There wasn't an exact equivalent to 'zombie' in his culture's mythology, so this didn't quite translate, but, the general ghoulish idea came across. "Hell if I know, anymore," Batiatus told the man- at this point, the idea of not being dead was becoming somewhat more appealing. The last way that he wanted to spend an eternity was trapped in a weird room talking to random people and canines. "I distinctly recall dying as the last thing which occurred before finding myself here, but, it seems that Mors has been slacking in his duty."

[ancient-adam.livejournal.com]

"Fallen into darkness? My my, aren't we melodramatic," the immortal snarked. "If you were dead, you're not now. You're north, in Caledon. But I'm sure the other students have covered this by now."

Methos wistfully wished that the translation charm would short out, even for a little while. He missed speaking Latin. He had lived in the Roman Empire for hundreds of years and dozens of lifetimes.

[masteroftitans.livejournal.com]

"So I've heard," Batiatus replied with a smirk. "No one's explained how the hell I got here, however. They seem to prefer leaping directly to the subject of talking hats and. . .time travel? Hell if I understand most of it- I'm still attempting to figure out I fucking failed at dying. You'd think that dying would be an incredibly easy undertaking." In Batiatus' perception, they were both speaking Latin- he was beginning to have some curiosity about the translation charm himself. When he'd believe himself in the underworld, everyone speaking Latin made perfect sense, but now, it was starting to prove a bit strange.

[j-whitlock.livejournal.com]

For Jasper, one of the hands down coolest things about being at Hogwarts was that if you saw someone dressed in ancient Roman garb, it was generally a good indication of when they were from.

Ancient Roman garb covered in one's own blood helped to explain why they were in the Sorting Room, considering a large percentage of Hogwarts' populace counted themselves among the formerly dead.

The blood, though, that was a definite problem. He wouldn't be able to have any kind of substantial conversation with the applicant while he was advertising how delicious he was, and Jasper needed to breathe in order to talk, so not breathing wasn't an option unless the applicant somehow knew sign language (highly unlikely, he assumed). He'd already overheard some of Batitatus' prior conversations with others easily enough, and the man's incredulity over being in a magic school offered the vampire the perfect excuse to solve his little blood problem—he just hoped this guy was the real deal and worth the trouble.

"Your clothes," he said by way of greeting, gesturing to Batitatus' blood drenched attire. "Would you like some help with that? It'll only take a moment to clean that mess right up." Jasper himself was still embracing wizarding fashion, clad in a wizarding robe and long cloak, both in the rich, deep colours that he favoured. That Vladimir seemed especially pleased whenever he made the effort to 'dress up' like this was also a nice incentive to do so, since he did enjoy doing what he could to make Vladimir happy... while still staying fully clothed, of course.

[masteroftitans.livejournal.com]

Batiatus was not only clad in ancient Roman garb, it was expensive ancient Roman garb- he'd been in the middle of a very important event marking a triumphant moment for his house when he'd found his ambitions interrupted by death. His very high-quality tunic of an exceptional shade of robin's-egg blue was definitely not looking its best at the moment. The tunic wasn't only soaked with his own blood- that of quite a few fallen Roman soldiers and citizens was mixed in, along with with some of his beloved wife's. He'd suffered one of those exceedingly melodramatic ends which involved a veritable pool of blood by the end of it- which was what came from slaughter in the middle of a villa containing a shallow pool of water. So, it was somewhat watered down, but not enough to diminish the assault on Jasper's senses.

As Jasper approached, Batiatus looked him over- he was somewhat oddly dressed, like so many others at this place, but, the robes did look comfortable and fashionable in their foreign way. If this was Caledonia, the climate was bound to be rather colder on average than he was used to, so it was sensible dress. And the man held himself very well- although Batiatus' tastes tended towards women, he could recognize attractiveness in a man well enough. It was a valuable quality. Jasper was extremely high-quality, and this was evident on a glance. It was impossible not to wonder if he belonged to anyone, especially since he'd offered to help with his clothes. He tried to get a closer look at the jewelry on Jasper's hand without being rudely obvious about it- even in a foreign land, it was possible it might indicate something.

Something about him was extremely pleasant too- and it wasn't just that he was offering to assist Batiatus with the dismal state of his garments. He couldn't quite put his finger on what it was, which was to be expected given his lack of experience with empathic vampires. But regardless of this small mystery, Batiatus found himself inclined towards the polite young man, and gave him a thankful smile. "Anything would be an improvement. If you're inclined to try, please, try all you like- I wasn't given an opportunity to put on a clean garment before I arrived at this fucking magic school." He could almost find the situation amusing in Jasper's company, as if he had some sort of vaguely analgesic effect. Something of this came out in his tone, as 'fucking magic school' wasn't delivered as bitterly as it could have been. He wondered if he might see a display of this so-called magic he kept hearing about, as, bloodstains like the ones on his clothes weren't coming out with anything short of thaumaturgical scouring.

((Is Jasper wearing his Harkonnen signet? As Bati was going to notice it next tag if so, since a ring like that would indicate some level of status in ancient Rome. Sorry I was slow on the tagging!))

[g-wormtongue.livejournal.com]

Grima examined the bloodstained man who looked as if he'd spent the day hunting Orcs. He gave a small smile at the cranky responses. "I have known few dead men who have been so talkative" he said mildly. (Clearly he had not gotten around enough at Hogwarts. Too busy holing up in his room and searching the rune-box.)

"And as far as I know cheese has absolutely nothing to do with anything in this castle. Though you can certainly have some if you desire." The Hogwarts grocery store and great hall were constant sources of astonishment to him.

[masteroftitans.livejournal.com]

Batiatus examined Grima in turn, who to all appearances seemed like a rather cleaner and somewhat better dressed specimen than usual of some barbarian tribe like the Getae. Barbarians were nothing new, he'd trained many of them, and, knew that some could adapt to civilization extremely well. "Neither have I, and I've known many dead men. But after speaking with some the residents of this supposed 'magic school', I've come to the conclusion that I didn't stay dead. It's fucking inexplicable, but, everything about this situation is." It was actually easier to accept the not-staying-dead part than the time-traveling part. The former was easily explained by divine intervention, but the latter was perplexing, and all too difficult to wrap his mind around.

"The questions, including the one about cheese, all seem damnably frivolous." He wasn't sure if he wasn't being offered cheese at that moment, or, the prospect of the cheese if he wanted it in the future, which seemed somewhat more sensible. "At the moment, I am not inclined toward cheese, but it is heartening to know that although stuck here, the place might not be entirely lacking in hospitality, skewed as it might appear."

[redhead-temp.livejournal.com]

"Oi! I didn't want to come here. I've already been here. I need you to take me to the Popcorn room." A curvy redhead was lecturing a house elf, enuciating slowly and likely a bit louder than was necessary considering the elf's rather large ears. The elf shook it's head and pointed firmly at Batiatus' application.

Donna shook her head, already exasperated with the school. She had been trying since her own Sorting to find the Popcorn room and find the Doctor. Of course, she was having no luck and was going to give that skinny spaceman a piece of her mind once she found him.

"Oh honestly! All right, let's have a look at you. Roman, eh? Were you from Pompeii?" she asked, toying with a gold locket the Doctor had given her before the volcano and everything went to hell.

[masteroftitans.livejournal.com]

So there were indeed women to be found here- this was good to have confirmed with his own eyes. The red-headed woman was certainly not unattractive, although oddly dressed- Batiatus observed her briefly before examining the hideous, deformed midget she was lecturing. Batiatus had yet to meet a house-elf, and so thought it the creature was some human specimen that probably should have been dealt with at birth, but had instead been kept alive as a slave for someone's amusement. He had no idea why the deformed midget was trying to draw her attention to the stupid list of question he'd had to answer.

When Donna came over, he was somewhat taken aback by her brusque manner, but not offended. He could appreciate a direct approach. He shook his head, noting the golden locket- it seemed a small bauble, not necessarily a sign of any significant wealth. "No, Capua, which is not far distant. I am, or was, dominus of a ludus near the city."

[ugly-old-hat.livejournal.com]

Golden aureus? The Hat already had oceans of bling. One coin didn't do much for the Hat.

Luckily, it had other interests easily piqued.

"I just love your fashion sense!"

[masteroftitans.livejournal.com]

Batiatus blinked incredulously- it was indeed a talking hat. An ugly, old talking hat, at that- he squinted, attempting to detect some strings manipulating it, but failed.

Being addressed by a fucking hat was just bizarre, and, he merely stood there for several seconds before he could manage a reply. "It is fortunate that a thoughtful resident of this strange castle took a moment to assist in cleaning my garments. I was not so fashionable when I arrived." He smirked slightly, and waited, a bit tensed, as he wondered what the Hat might say or do next.

Slytherin!

[ugly-old-hat.livejournal.com]

You are the most fun! Your bribe has been accepted!

Welcome to Slytherin!