#dinner with trimalchio

[neoclassicalblobphilosopher]

Rip Trimalchio you would've loved keeping up with the Kardashians

[greeneyed-thestral]

[acertainidontknowwhat]

During the cena, the actuarius, “account-keeper”, reads out the acta beginning with the date: “seven days before the kalends of August” (VII. Kalendas Sextiles, 53.2 - July 26th). The month of Sextilis had been renamed Augustus in 8 BCE, and so its usage here is odd.

Is Trimalchio here attempting to sound Republican? Perhaps he is expressing a sense of nostalgia as it concerns his public image. Since the acta is imitative of a public announcement, then, it makes sense that Trimalchio would wish to represent himself in a way that shows traditional republican values

In this way, we see Trimalchio imitating the very figure he erases by making this change. What I mean by this is that the change leads to Augustus being removed from the Roman calendar.

The simple act of using Sextilis instead of Augustus signals to the reader what is missing and there is no mistaking that it is a reference to the Augustus since it was for him specifically the month was renamed. This is one of the many occurrences during the dinner of a charged absence.

[akitforlife]

So I am writing a paper on Classical werewolf elements in Teen Wolf (there are a few!), so as part of my research I'm dwelling a bit into Greek and Latin werewolf folklore. This is what I have written so far...:

Greek and Roman stories of humans transforming into wolves fit only with difficulty in the established categories of ‘werewolf’ that appear in the literature about the supernatural,[1] because they are a range of examples where humans transforming into wolves at will, forcefully, regularly, permanently, and temporarily. Some of the human-wolf transformation stories can be excluded from proper werewolf lore, as they involve witches, sorcerers and herb collectors transforming themselves or other people. These include mentions of Circe turning men into wolves,[2] shamans deep in Scythia who could turn their people into wolves,[3] and witches and herb-collectors like Meroe who could turn whenever they wanted.[4] Similarly, ‘lycanthropy’ was considered to be a medical condition in later medical treatises; a melancholy of sorts that caused those who suffered it to vague at night time around the streets with dogs (and wolves), bumping their shins against tombstones.[5]

However, at least nine stories of true werewolves have come down to us in various forms, and they are a testimony to the rich werewolf folklore of the Classical world.[6] The most famous example nowadays is the story-within-the-story about the soldier in the Satyricon.[7] In this story, Niceros tells during Trimalchio’s dinner how he was travelling with a soldier who, during the night, took off his clothes by a monument in a graveyard, pissed around them, and turned into a wolf while his clothes turned to stone. The most repeated and widely-circulated story in antiquity, nevertheless, is that of Lycaon of Arcadia and the rites associated with the cult of Zeus Lykaios, which will be detailed below.

From these Classical stories about wolf shape-shifters, however, we cannot create a ‘Classical werewolf archetype’ that matches every story. This is, above all, because werewolves belonged in Greek and Latin folklore, and their sole purpose was to be the main focus of a story. Because of this, they were never part of a larger narrative (or an educated one, Lycaon being the main exception), and the werewolf existed in the way and form required by the story it appeared in.[8] We can, however, highlight a handful main characteristics that seem common across these tales.

To start with, Classical werewolves all show a full transformation from human to wolf and vice versa, without it being possible which one is the ‘original’ shape. From this we can infer that these werewolves kept their human sense of self even while in wolf form.[9] This preservation of the human consciousness is key, because werewolves in wolf form must be able to take certain conscious decisions in order to shift back. Discarding their human clothes and recovering themwere essential steps in the transition human-wolf-human, and the same could be said about avoiding human contact or interaction with other humans.[10] Also, the way becoming a werewolf was transmitted was not through a bite or a scratch, but rather by breaking bread with a stranger,[11] something perhaps designed to warn travellers, as a moral to werewolf stories. Lastly, we find that their eyes glow, sometimes with fire, to signify their supernatural essence.[12]

The stories about Lycaon are intrinsically connected with a series of religious rituals that existed in Arcadia and that were focused around the cult of Zeus Lykaios, offerings that included human sacrifices, and rites of passage.[13] These were already discussed in Platonic texts and compiled by Herodotus,[14] but Pliny discusses these rituals and links them to werewolf folklore (fabulae), albeit if simply to underline the gullibility of the Greeks. Pliny and, later, Pausanias, mention how during the ceremonies linked to the temple of Zeus Lykaios, local young men go through a rite of passage in which, after de-robing themselves and making the recommended offerings, they cross a pond from which they emerge as wolves, and they live in that wolf form for years (up to nine), only to return back home as men if they abstain from having contacts with other humans, eating human flesh, or staring into a man’s eyes.[15]

These defining characteristics do not seem to be much, but are already very different from medieval perceptions of the werewolf ―the kind of which are later adapted in nineteenth-century Gothic literature and, from them, to modern fiction.[16] Classical werewolves do not ‘shift’ into wolf-human hybrids, nor do they become senseless monsters; and if they go on killing sprees, it is usually sheep that are the target, not directly other humans.[17] In some aspects they are similar, since werewolves follow deeply-rooted Indo-European tales of the dangers that lie beyond the known space, especially in the forest where wolves dwell, [18] and it is possible that the moon had an effect on their transformation,[19] but the werewolves of Classical folklore fail to match the current expectations of werewolves in fiction.

[1] Ogden (2021) 7, n. 27, citing de Blécourt (2015).

[2] Hom. Od. 10.210.

[3] Hdt. 4.105.2.

[4] E.g.: Apul. Met. 2.22-5; Verg. Ecl. 8-9.

[5] Metzger (2015).

[6] Ogden (2021) 206-7.

[7] Petron. 61-2.

[8] Odgen (2021) 8-9, 210.

[9] Odgen (2021) 7.

[10] Ogden (2021) 82-4.

[11] Petron. 62. Niceros swears he would not share food with the man after finding out he was a werewolf: nec postea cum illo panem gustare potui, non si me occidisses. Cf. Ogden (2021) 99.

[12] Ov. Met. 1.238 idem oculi lucent; cf. Ov. Am. 1.8.15-6, Philostr. VA 4.10.

[13] Odgen (2021) 178-86.

[14] Ps. Plato Min. 315b-c and Hdt. 7.197, as cited by Ogden (2021).

[15] Plin. Nat. 8.80-1; Paus. 8.2.6. Cf. Gordon (2015) 47.

[16] Crossen (2019).

[17] Gordon (2015).

[18] Bernhardt-House (2006) 160.

[19] Odgen (2021) 191-2.

OHH THIS IS SO COOL.

I had never heard of like actual lycanthropy diagnoses?? That’s sick. “Bumping shins against tombstones” what a symptom!!

And the idea of being unable to pin down the archetype by virtue of werewolves being designed however the story needed them to be– so true!! I hadn’t thought about that but it definitely changes how our perceptions of what a werewolf is "supposed" to be.

And the breaking bread story– I understand it serving as a warning, that makes sense, but there’s something very sweet there too. Taking that idea and putting it in a teen wolf lens (how can I not?) it just indicates something more built on community which I love!

Thank you sm for sharing!! :D

[ficwriterhub]

Trimalchio's Dinner Party

by @elleflies​​

Summary: As Chloe settles into her new eternal life of demons, souls, and loops, Lucifer has a new challenge for her, and that's how she finds herself at a Hellish Roman dinner party. A weird time is had by all.

Read it on Ao3!

[dumbfinntales]

Thanks to the help of a wonderful app called Legentibus I managed to get through a text titled "Cena Trimalchionis" = Dinner of Trimalchio. This text is a part of a bigger book called Satyricon that I attempted to read at one point, but found it way too difficult and time consuming to read. Especially with the amount of unfamiliar vocabulary.

With Legentibus you can look up unfamiliar words right away which sped up the reading process. Still according to the app it took me 6 hours to read the whole thing. I did read it in bits and pieces over the span of a few weeks. There's actually a progress tracker in the app so I'd read about 10% of the text every day.

How was the story? It was interesting and grand. Trimalchio himself is an interesting character. He's a former slave who became extremely rich and is very vain and wasteful. His dinner is excessively lavish and the guests there are even weirder. I love that in three occasions some slave messed up slightly and Trimalchio wanted them dead, but all the guests begged him to spare them. So he did. Probably so he might seem "merciful" to his guests.

The description of the foods and the entertainment felt like it was out of this world. They served all kinds of meats from birds to pigs, sausages, fruits, nuts, pastries, eggs etc... There was one dish that was adorned with all kinds of meat and Trimalchio starts pretentiously explaining how all his dishes have a deeper artistic meaning, because he is just so sophisticated.

Trimalchio is also very full of himself, demanding ridiculous things after his death and acting like he's the most precious and important thing in the room. At one point a pretty slave boy entered the room and Trimalchio immediately ran up to him and smothered him with kisses. His wife (not sure if I got that correctly) Fortunata saw this and was not happy at all and started yelling at Trimalchio that he can't control his urges and called him a pig. He of course in retaliation threw a goblet at her face.

A lot of fun stuff happens during the dinner like this one guy going crazy and he starts roasting everyone around him, which Trimalchio finds amusing. The end of the dinner is probably my favorite part. Trimalchio, absolutely wasted on wine, asks everyone to pretend as if he was dead and this was his funeral. Then one slave boy stands up and starts singing in such a loud and horrible voice that the guards in the neighborhood start thinking there's a fire or something happening in Trimalchio's place and they storm in dousing everyone with water. During this commotion our horrified main characters decide to sneak away from the dinner, as if they really were fleeing a fire. What a story!

If you're a Latin enthusiast like me I do recommend reading Cena Trimalchionis. And getting the Legentibus app! There's some free texts you can read, but a lot of the good stuff has to be paid for with a subscription. Legentibus is truly a wonderful source of Latin texts and a great way to keep learning. As I said you can look up any unfamiliar word just by tapping it on the text, and some texts have a commentary that explain why some things are said or written the way they are.

[coldbug]

honestly what Wouldnt I give to have a david lynch directed dinner with trimalchio movie

[tina-aumont]

Tina Aumont and Don Backy in Satyricon (Gian Luigi Polidoro, 1969).

From: https://archivio.unita.news/

With this cool pic I let you know that I'll be uploading Satyricon screecaps!! :D

I found, years ago, a youtube video, but I guess it was a censored version as lots of lobby cards published around the internet are from scenes that in the video weren't shown, but I hope one day we will find the whole film!!

Note: From now on I will not tag my screencaps, as the films are shown on the internet. You deserve to see the photo as it is and this tumblr is growing thanks to you. To show respect towards Tina, filmmakers/photographers and fans/admirers, screencaps will not be tagged. All the previous screencaps posted will be replaced little by little, and I'm thinking the same about the magazines but I'm not that sure... We will see...

Information from the film:

Satyricon, also named The Degenerates, is an Italian film from 1969 directed by Gian Luigi Polidoro. Like the more famous version made by Federico Fellini it is loosely based on Petronius’s work, Satyricon, a series of bawdy and satirical episodes written during the reign of the emperor Nero and set in imperial Rome.

Plot (it may contain spoilers)

Encolpius and Ascyltus are two corrupt boys roaming the mean streets of Rome at the time of the empire of Nero. Both boys constantly engage in conflict with each other for the love of the young Gitone, who often prefers Ascyltus, infuriating lover Encolpius. Due to a misunderstanding, the three end up in the house of a rich freedman: the crude Trimalchio, who in his rich dinner amazes guests with exuberant courses.

Escaping from the house of the crude man, Ascyltus and Encolpius continue to fight for Gitone until Encolpius makes friends with the poet Eumolpus, while Ascyltus dies of diseases. Gitone is now only in the company of Encolpius, who cannot satisfy Gitone’s amorous pleasures because of a curse hurled at him by the god Priapus, the protector of the cocks. After inheriting a rich mansion by chance by a senator named Pomponius, Encolpius, Eumolpus and Gitone go in a city where their troubles do not end because of the magic spells of a witch, soothsayer of the god Priapus.

Cast

Don Backy - Encolpio

Franco Fabrizi - Ascilto

Francesco Pau - Gitone

Mario Carotenuto - Eumolpo

Tina Aumont - Circe

Valérie Lagrange - Trifena

Amerigo Tot - Lica (Trifena’s husband)

Graziella Granata - Antonia

Piero Gerlini - Abinna (Antonia’s husband)

Corrado Olmi - Seleuco

Clara Colosimo - Seleuco’s Wife

Paola Tedesco - Criside

Ugo Tognazzi - Trimalchione

The film was released on 27th March 1969.

[aziraphales-library]

Hello again! I send two asks some months ago, but at this point I think they were swallowed whole in the dark depths of this wicked site. So I’ll put them together here: 1) do you know some good fics with Crowley and fem!Aziraphale? and 2) good fics set in Ancient Rome? Thank you so much, and keep up the good work!

Do you know of any works featuring Femme!Aziraphale? I read serpent and the lady by summerofspock and now I kinda want more.~ @wearestarstuff618

Hi hi!! Do y’all have any recs for BAMF female presenting Aziraphale? Preferably within the canon universe (or canon adjacent lol). Thank you so so much!! ~ anon

Hello!

I used this Female-Presenting Aziraphale tag to find some fics and this Female Aziraphale tag as well. Here’s some of what I found:

Coping With a Recalcitrant Bloodsucker by ZephyrOfAllTrades (M) - wip

'Get out there and impale some hearts.' Quite a romantic phrase for something so bloody…. well, bloody.

Aziraphale Van Helsing had yet to kill her first vampire. Despite her family lineage, she would rather attack a box of chocolate than the undead. That is, until misunderstandings labeled her as 'compromised' and married off to an insufferable one.

Anthony Crowley, Duke of Glasgow and vampire-demon, vowed only to marry the one worthy of being his eternal vampire bride. Cue one night of passion(ate drinking - disappointingly just that and nothing more), and he wondered if permanent discorporation is better than years being shackled to a Van Helsing.

As Time Goes By by teatales (E) - wip

Mr Anthony Crowley was fine with being alone. He had his car and his plants and his career as a travelling salesman, and it was fine. Even with his awful new bosses, he had no plans to quit selling watches anytime soon. What else would he do?

Mrs Aziraphale Ingels had been stuck in Tadfield ever since her husband passed away a year ago. She tried her best not to dwell on how lonely she felt as she filled her days with books and baking while waiting for the inheritance to be finalised. Only then could she consider what she wanted to do with the rest of her life.

A chance meeting, a blossoming friendship, and Aziraphale and Crowley soon find themselves falling in love with the stranger they met only a few months ago. But neither believe the other could ever love them back, and both have things they're terrified to share.

As Time Goes By is a timeless romance set in the 1950s about acceptance, being less alone than you think, and watch-related puns. Updates weekly.

The Crowleiad by PrincessDianaArtemis (E)

On the island of Antikythera, where the people were far from copious, an angel waits to welcome her husband home from war.

Here’s one that’s both Female!Aziraphale and in rome @irohasong!

kneel on my mattress by IsleofSolitude (E)

Julius Cesar's death has left a power struggle in his wake. Aziraphale and Crowley, ever on opposite sides, meet at a party and choose to find other ways to pass the time.

And here’s the tag I used to find Ancient Rome fics!

When in Rome by DarkmoonSigel (M)

They have some oysters. They then have a lot of wine. Sexy wing shenanigans happen, and then it gets weird.

Trimalchio Of The Eastern Gate by WolfieOnAO3 (G) - wip

Rome, 37 AD. In which an angel invites a demon for dinner... 

Ubi Nihil Vales, Idi Nihil Velis by D20Owlbear, itwasadarkandstormynight (T) - wip

Aziraphale was a soldier, until he was tried for treason, was found guilty, and became a gladiator. Now he lives out his days fighting in the arena of the Amphitheatrum Flavium.

Crowley is a masseuse in the gladiator schools. She hadn’t always been one, but as a slave, it wasn’t like she could choose how she spent her days. As far as work goes, it’s not bad.

When they met, they became instant friends, however unlikely it may have seemed. But when Aziraphale is offered a chance of freedom, he doesn’t want to leave Crowley. Crowley, however, sees a chance to escape—a chance for both of them to be free.

Will Aziraphale be able to overcome his self-doubt and accept his freedom? And will Crowley be able to go with him?

in keeping with tradition by Phoenix_Soar (E)

   Running into Aziraphale in Rome during the notoriously debauched Festival of Saturnalia gives Crowley the chance he's hardly dared to dream of

   OR

   Crowley accidentally invented the New Year's Kiss tradition as an excuse to kiss Aziraphale

~ Mod G

[lovis-corinth]

Title page: The Dinner of Trimalchio, Lovis Corinth, 1919, Harvard Art Museums: Prints

Harvard Art Museums/Busch-Reisinger Museum, Antonia Paepcke DuBrul Fund Size: 45.6 x 36.7 cm (17 15/16 x 14 7/16 in.) Medium: Letterpress printing on cream wove paper

https://www.harvardartmuseums.org/collections/object/341582

[nicklloydnow]

“Donald Trump, Bill Clinton, Bill Gates, hedge-fund billionaire Glenn Dubin, former New Mexico Gov. Bill Richardson, former Secretary of the Treasury and former president of Harvard Larry Summers, Stephen Pinker, Prince Andrew, Alan Dershowitz, billionaire Victoria’s Secret CEO Les Wexner, the J.P Morgan banker Jes Staley, former Israeli prime minister Ehud Barack, real estate mogul Mort Zuckerman, former Maine senator George Mitchell, Harvey Weinstein and many others who were at least present and most likely participated in Epstein’s perpetual Bacchanalia, are not in court. The law firms and high-priced attorneys, federal and state prosecutors, private investigators, personal assistants, publicists, servants, drivers and numerous other procurers, sometimes women, who made Epstein’s crimes possible are not being investigated. Those in the media, the political arena and the entertainment industry who aggressively and often viciously shut down and discredited the few voices, including those of a handful of intrepid reporters, who sought to shine a light on the crimes committed by Epstein and his circle of accomplices are not on trial. The videos that Epstein apparently collected of his guests engaged in their sexual escapades with teenage and underage girls from the cameras he had installed in his opulent residences and on his private island have mysteriously disappeared, most probably into the black hole of the FBI, along with other crucial evidence. Epstein’s death in a New York jail cell, while officially ruled a suicide, is in the eyes of many credible investigators a murder. With Epstein dead, and Maxwell sacrificed, the ruling oligarchs will once again escape justice.

(…)

A licentious, money-drenched, morally bankrupt and intellectually vacuous ruling class, accountable to no one and free to plunder and prey on the weak like human vultures, rise to power in societies in terminal decline. This class of parasites was savagely parodied in the first-century satirical novel “Satyricon” by Gaius Petronius, written during the reign of Nero. Epstein and his cohorts for years engaged in sexual perversions of Petronian proportions, as Miami Herald investigative reporter Julie Brown, whose dogged reporting was largely responsible for reopening the federal investigation in Epstein and Maxwell, documents in her book “Perversion of Justice: The Jeffrey Epstein Story.”

(…)

These mediocrities, drunk with their own self-importance, equate celebrity, power and wealth with wisdom. Petronius’ Trimalchio, the archetypal self-made millionaire whose vulgarity and stupidity make him one of great comic buffoons of literature, was more than matched by Epstein who organized pretentious dinners for those in his secret billionaires club, which included Elon Musk, Bill Gates, Salar Kamangar and Jeff Bezos. Epstein and his guests, as in Petronius’s chapter “Dinner with Trimalchio,” dreamed up bizarre schemes of social engineering, including Epstein’s plan to seed the human species with his own DNA by creating a baby compound at his sprawling estate in New Mexico. “Epstein was also obsessed with cryonics, the transhumanist philosophy whose followers believe that people can be replicated or brought back to life after they are frozen,” Brown writes. “Epstein apparently told some of the members of his scientific circle that he wanted to inseminate women with his sperm for them to give birth to his babies, and that he wanted his head and his penis frozen.”

Epstein, who regularly entertained and funded the work of Harvard faculty, was made a visiting fellow in Harvard’s Department of Psychology, although he had no academic qualifications that made him eligible for the position. He was given a key card and pass code, as well as an office, in the building that housed Harvard’s Program for Evolutionary Dynamics. He referred to himself in his press releases as “Science Philanthropist Jeffrey Epstein,” “Education activist Jeffrey Epstein,” “Evolutionary Jeffrey Epstein,” “Science patron Jeffrey Epstein” and “Maverick hedge funder Jeffrey Epstein.”

The judicial system, for years, worked to protect Epstein. The legal anomalies, including the disappearance of massive amounts of evidence incriminating Epstein, saw Epstein avoid federal sex-trafficking charges in 2007 when his attorneys negotiated a secret deal with Alex Acosta in the U.S. attorney’s office in Miami to plead guilty to lesser state charges of soliciting a minor for prostitution.

(…)

The list of suspected abusers around Epstein was not segregated by the left or the right. It included Republicans, like Trump, and Democrats such as Clinton. It included philanthropists such as Gates, the former prime minister of Israel, and Harvard academics. It included celebrities, such as David Copperfield, and the titans of finance and business. The common denominator was not politics or ideology, but that they were powerful and wealthy men.

(…)

The Earth, and all forms of life on this planet, must be revered, and protected if we are to endure as a species. This means inculcating a different vision of human society. It means building a world where domination and ceaseless exploitation, in all its forms, are condemned, where empathy, especially for the weak and for the vulnerable is held up as the highest virtue. It means recovering the capacity for awe and reverence for the sacred sources that sustain life. It means that girls and women must be empowered to control their own fates. Once we stand up for this ethic of life, once we include all people, including girls and women, as an integral part of this ethic, we can build a successful resistance movement that can challenge the radical evil before us. But we can’t do it unless half of the human population, girls and women, are at our side. Their fight is our fight. Their justice is our justice. Once they are free, we can all be free.”

[acertainidontknowwhat]

We can see performance in the Cena as ritual given the fact that Trimalchio’s dinner was an oft-repeated event. Based on internal evidence, we know that those in attendance (aside from Encolpius and his friends) have seen the show before, perhaps multiple times. Also, the dining room itself is characterized as a sacred space as it must be entered right foot first (an enslaved member of the household stands by the dining-room door and reminds everyone to enter in a religiously respectable manner). Everything that takes place during the dinner, therefore, can be characterized as an imitation of ritual.

On a similar note, most argue that the performance ends when Trimalchio's wife, Fortunata, calls Trimalchio canis, "a dog", after he kisses one of the enslaved boys. Encolpius tells us that it was at this moment that the good nature of the dinner ended, but that does not necessarily mean the performance stopped, only that the tone of the performance shifted. The mood quickly becomes tragic as tears begin to flow: Fortunata cries, Trimalchio cries, and even Scintilla and Habinnas cry. The change in mood leads to Trimalchio's extended speech which doubles as an autobiography and ultimately his mock funeral. It seems unlikely that the mock funeral would have been introduced without the major shift in tone.

[harvard-art-museums-prints]

Introductory page: The Dinner of Trimalchio, Lovis Corinth, 1919, Harvard Art Museums: Prints

Harvard Art Museums/Busch-Reisinger Museum, Antonia Paepcke DuBrul Fund Size: 45.6 x 36.7 cm (17 15/16 x 14 7/16 in.) Medium: Letterpress printing on cream wove paper

https://www.harvardartmuseums.org/collections/object/341583

[deathshallbenomore]

dinner at trimalchio’s but it’s cortesie per gli ospiti (sì quello su real time)

[miaouerie]

whumptober 2020 ------ day 29. alternate prompt: nightmares

@whumptober2020​  Rebelcaptain Hunger Games AU: Cassian is Jyn’s mentor in the 70th Hunger Games. After being crowned victor at fifteen years old, Cassian is all-too-familiar with what it takes to bring a tribute home, and what becoming a victor really means.

content warnings: references to forced prostitution, creepy whump

previous: day 1 / 2  / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15  / 16  / 17 / 18 / 19 / 20 / 21 / 22 / 23 / 24 / 25 / 26 / 27 / 28

After a fitful sleep Cassian wakes.

Draven arrives in the morning to escort him to the finalists’ interview with Caesar Flickerman. Of course, all of the tributes who made it to the finals except for Jyn are dead, so the mentors are the ones being interviewed. It’s not so much a panel-style interview as it is about Flickerman edging in jokes about Cassian and Jyn that make him uncomfortable but he laughs along anyway, lets the audience see a relieved, devoted, grateful lover boy anticipating his reunion with his beloved.

The rest of the day is filled with various publicity events he has to attend.

-

After a fitful sleep Cassian wakes.

He’s wanted at the Remake Center to consult on Jyn. The Gamemakers have a long list of improvements they wish to make. Cassian refuses them all; he knows that he has no power in the final decision but he plays up her natural beauty, insists on his sincere, proven attraction to it. The lead designer coos over what she calls a ‘charming, backwards sort of animal magnetism’ but the only improvement ordered for Jyn is the full body polish. Cassian internally heaves a sigh of relief.

The rest of the day is more publicity, this time geared towards thanking the sponsors of the lesser tiers below the President’s Circle. A powder blue envelope comes at dinner to dictate the rest of his evening.

-

After a fitful sleep Cassian wakes.

It takes him a moment to realize that he is not in his quarters at the Tributes’ Tower and instead he’s still in Trimalchio Plena’s massive bed. His patron from last night. Did Draven forget to pick him up?

No, the thought strikes him as stupid as soon as he thinks of it. Draven always comes to get him at the end of an appointment. Always on time; never late or earlier. So he lays there in the dark, his surroundings foreign and cold as the sleeping arms he woke up embraced in, until an Avox comes to wake Trimalchio and to escort him back to his escort.

Trimalchio’s decidedly softcore tastes did not leave him in a state that necessitated a trip to the Remake Center, so he’s driven back to the Tributes’ Tower where his peevish head stylist is waiting for him.

Kay sniffs; his unimpressed demeanor hardly ever disguises his eagerness for verbal jousting. “You’re late.”

“No, he is not,” Draven curtly replies. Cassian cuts through the beginnings of their portentous exchange and heads to his bathroom, where Kay has already started the shower on his preferred preset. After a few minutes to himself Kay comes in to sit and talk to him about his plans for Jyn’s final interview dress—strapless dress, or perhaps a backless jumpsuit? There is a 87% chance that doing so will become the next season’s fashion trend.—while Cassian lets the hot water cascade down his face, neck, shoulders, chest. They continue the conversation over breakfast where Draven has already poured him a cup of caf.

More interviews. Another appearance at some soft opening ceremony. More nonsense.

A powder blue envelope.

-

After a fitful sleep Cassian wakes.

He’s not really ready to be awake; he wakes up to throw up because he got far too intoxicated at the behest of last night’s eager, if not implacable, client. The lights are still on from the party, but he’s the only one stumbling around at this hour. He passes a few rooms that have people dozing in them. He had been sleeping on the floor.

Where is Draven?

After throwing up he hunches down by the toilet and puts his head in his arms. The ornate clock ticking away on the wall reads 07:02.

Draven comes for him an hour later, brings him back to District 5’s floor. Kay has the mockup of Jyn’s dress and another of the jumpsuit on two similarly proportioned Avoxes, and the three of them pass commentary until Cassian excuses himself to throw up again; he sees Kay get up to follow with a roll of their eyes and a sigh.

Kneeling down next to him the head stylist presses two wake-up pills into Cassian’s palm and calls for an Avox to bring a glass of warmed water. “You shouldn’t be so dour; I’m already working on your outfits for the Victory Tour. So you won’t have to trouble yourself, opining on my designs, until next year.”

Cassian doesn’t say anything, just presses his head against the cool marble of the toilet seat. Kay is trying to be supportive in their own misinformed Capitolite way, but he could do without the reminder that things aren’t really over and that the Games don’t ever end.

Kay and the prep team get him ready for a solo photo shoot as part of an exclusive interview with Capitol Weekly. Draven informs him that there is an afterparty he is obligated to attend, thrown in honor of his first successful mentoring stint and the love he’s found in the Games. Cassian regrets not asking Kay for more wake-up pills but he figures he should be able to get his hands on some anyway.

-

After almost twenty-four hours of being awake, Cassian falls asleep. But not really. It’s more like he closes his eyes and when he opens them again, he’s in Sophmora’s dungeon. There’s no mistaking it—the purple and black tiles beneath his feet, the smell of candlewax from the burning sconces on the walls. Anticipation rakes his shoulders, as well as unfettered lust.

Even in a dream, it’s an unsettling feeling to be here and to walk around unrestrained. Cassian isn’t even sure why he’s dreamt up this place, of all places, until he sees her.

She’s naked save for some leather straps, the dominatrix turned submissive: a spreader bar is tucked into the crook of her knees and a gold chain links her leather boots together by the ankles. Gold cuffs bind her wrists overhead to the back of a gold collar around her neck. Her back is facing him but he knows that she senses his approach.

Without him thinking it, a devilish smirk works its way onto his face. An Avox pushes Sophmora’s trolley of torture tools his way, and Cassian marvels over each one—his hand hovers over each, until he picks up the cat o’ nines.

Sophmora’s speaking to him; it’s hard to describe, but he knows she’s speaking to him without hearing a word from her lips. His mouth opens in reply; their exchange is obscene, pornographic, a near-perfect reversal of their formal roles as the buyer and the bought. He says without speaking that he’s been looking forward to this, hurting her in the same ways she’s hurt him. Inflicting pain for the pleasure of her punishment.

He steps behind her, trails the knotted ends of the whip over her bare back. She shudders; he laughs, and that’s how Cassian knows he’s dreaming because the whip feels too solid, too comfortable in his hand.

Before they get started he leans in close behind and reaches around to cup her face. The creepy familiarity is from the same move that Sophmora has always used on him; she turns her face away, just like he’s done the same. But when he cruelly grips her chin to jerk her face back to his instead of Sophmora’s red irises he’s startled by a pair of green, stardust-flecked eyes.

No—

He tries to stumble back but every movement of his has been choreographed to a script; he’s forced to watch as Jyn’s fearful eyes fill with tears and she tries to curl herself away from him. He hears her cries and accusations without hearing a word from her lips; why did you save me if this is what I’m condemned to do? You should have let me die, let me die, let me die—

Cassian pulls back, stands up. He can still hear her sobs without noise. Then he rears his arm back to strike, and then he—

-

After a fitful sleep Cassian wakes.

When he sits down in the dining room Draven informs him that Jyn is to be discharged from the Remake Center today, eight hours before the Closing Ceremony, after which they will convene at the president’s mansion for the Victory Banquet which will take up the remainder of his schedule through the end of the night. Tomorrow will be Jyn’s final interview with Caesar Flickerman at 2 o’clock and then they’ll board the train back to District 5. Cassian should feel relieved; he really should. The end of this horrible nightmare is in sight.

But he has to see Jyn first. In spite of what Draven just told him there’s a fear he has, that the past few days have all been a dream, that he’ll wake up and Jyn will still be in the Arena fighting for her life. He knows that isn’t true. But until he can see Jyn, touch her, hold her in his arms—

—without a whip in hand, though that was a nightmare too—

—he can’t be too sure he isn’t dreaming.

[thoodleoo]

in the ancient roman novel the satyricon, there’s a section featuring a dinner hosted by a man named trimalchio. during this dinner, trimalchio makes several references to the zodiac, including the presentation of a special dish for each of the signs. from this, it becomes clear that the author of the satyricon, petronius, was a huge fan of the webcomic homestuck. in this essay i will