The Superstitious man is one who will wash his hands at a fountain, sprinkle himself from a temple-font, put a bit of laurel-leaf into his mouth, and so go about for the day. If a weasel run across his path, he will not pursue his walk until someone else has traversed the road, or until he has thrown three stones across it. When he sees a serpent in his house, if it be the red snake, he will invoke Sabazius,---if the sacred snake, he will straightway place a shrine on the spot. (...) If a mouse gnaws through a meal-bag, he will go to the expounder of sacred law and ask what is to be done; and if the answer is, ' give it to a cobbler to stitch up,' he will disregard this counsel (...) and if an owl is startled by him in his walk, he will exclaim 'Glory be to Athene!' before he proceeds.
Theophrastus' Characters is a fun way to learn about 300 BC negative stereotypes in Athens. I also like how it lines up in the genre of "fellow inhabitants (that annoy me) of this city (that is everything)", all the way up to 20th century New Yorkers and early 21st centry Muscovites.
(1870 Jebb translation on Google Books, fully downloadable as pdf)
Valencia could hardly believe his luck! The red haired Legionary paced calmly into the darkness where he was being held. He wasn't sure what to expect from his "brother." Not escape, Valencia wasn't stupid, even as his wrists strained against the ropes that were keeping him in place, one arm secured to a wooden pillar on either side of him, in an urge to hug the freckled man. Val grinned. Theophrastus did not, despite the smile, the clear relief the prisoner felt, "... I could never hate you, Valencia. Remember this."
That was true. Theophrastus watched Valencia's relief falter, "ThTheo?"
He couldn't hate him. For all his foolishness, for what he'd done, he was still Valencia at the end of his day. He was still the boy that Theophrastus had stubbornly waited out, his need for connection outlasting Valencia's need for superiority. His, "Little brother..."
Theophrastus recalled how his heart had broken when he'd learned Valencia had fled. That he knew it would eventually come down to this. He had orders. Theophrastus needed to reprove his own loyalty to Caesar, to the Legion, and that mattered more than the prisoner in front of him. The Frumentarii who accompanied Theo stood silently aside, merely watching.
"I'm sorry I must do this," Theo had requested the act be private, he needed it be so, he felt he would break if Valencia's torture was public to crowds cheering for his blood. It needed to be private and, for Theo's own sake, he needed it to be beautiful, "Who were you traveling with?"
Val was silent for the first time since Theo had met him.
Theo took that as invitation to begin. He traced his fingers along the selection of tools he'd requested to make such a thing reality, "They say you acted on the urging, on the advice of a slave, is that true?"
Theophrastus took up a very thing bladed knife, "Is this true," he quickly traced traced a cut up Valencia's back, making him gasp in shock. A thin, perfect line, "They say you conspired with our enemies. You made your way all the way to Nellis. You consult with the larvae of their fallen, engagement in witchcraft, is this true?"
"Th-Theo. Theo, no, no, I would never-"
Theo traced the cut down the left side with the blade, filleting flesh from bone. The motion was smooth, done repeatedly over and over in smooth, long strokes. Valencia screamed.
"Little brother, is this true?"
"YES! YES BY THE GODS IT'S TRUE!"
"That you keep company of profligates, of those who seek to destroy the Legion, who seek to return the Mojave to a wild, lawless hellscape, is this true," the flap of meat fell to the ground. Theo nudged it aside with his boot.
"TH- THEOPHRPHRAS-THEO PLEASE!"
"You have heard the charges against you, is this true?"
The same treatment on the right side, flesh cleanly stripped away, "YESYYYE-EEES!"
Theo walked, forcing himself to be calm. He tried to distance himself from it. Despite Valencia's sobs, despite feeling ill at the sight of his blood all over his hands. He made grim eye contact with his escort. The Frumentarii nodded. He was doing well, then. He took up a small hatchet and made his way back, forcing himself to move very purposefully despite that Valencia was now hanging by his wrists, his body trying to collapse to the floor.
"Two men. And a woman. These people were reported to be traveling with you. What are their names?"
Val still managed to shake his head, sweat pour off his face, "What are their names?"
Another sad shake. Theo's chest hurt. He wanted to rip Val down, to deliver a clean blow to his head and kill him instantly. He ran the hatchet along Valencia's back, catching the gaps on his ribs. The sound he made was inhuman, "Names."
Silence except for desperate, gasping sobs as Val struggled in his need for air, "Names... Please don't drag this out..."
"h-h-huxley. rosemm-marie. j-jack."
"Liar," Theo knew this as soon as the first name left Valencia's lips. The hatchet made contact where rib met spine. Val gagged, but nothing left his long empty stomach, "Liar... In damnatio memoraie... What good does lying do you now?!"
Another rib severed, "I WANT NAMES."
"hhhu-uhxley," Val conjured images in his head to keep his lies straight. The stout owl faced librarian, with his round glasses who welcomed him with open arms despite his fellow's reluctance, "rrrmarieeeAH," another solid hit in his back, a weapon handed over to him, a name carved in a stock by someone long dead, "j-jaAUH," Tim calling him that, out of spite, out of anger, out of genuine fondness for both himself and someone, presumably, also long dead.
Val wouldn't give them up. He couldn't do that. It was the last thing he could do for them.
"NAMES."
Oh Gods... Val's poor back, Theophrastus wanted to scream. To slap the blond around, shake him until his neck snapped, and ask what the hells he was trying to prove! With a sickly crack, he'd full severed all of the ribs on Valencia's left. Val coughed, he sobbed, but he didn't pass out. Small mercies... Theo didn't think he could stand to drag this out for days, "GIVE ME NAMES," Theo started on the right.
"hh-
h-"
Val couldn't speak any more... Dark spots danced in the edges of his vision, "Did you love her?"
Val hung limply. He forced himself to nod regardless of the pain. He owed Charity that too...
"Who is she?"
Val gagged. He couldn't summon words any more. It hurt to breathe, it was hard to breathe...
The hatchet made it's last contact before being thrown, blade lodges in the Earth. Theophrastus's hands shook. It would be perfect. It would be beautiful. Valencia wouldn't be disgraced, even after everything. This would be a glorious symbol for what happened to those who defied the Caesar, something to behold in awe as much as fear.
He snapped them backwards. Back and up, pulling the ribs from inside of Val, bringing them outwards until he was a mutilated angel of bones and blood.
Theo nearly hit the Frumentarii when he placed a hand on his shoulder, that's how tightly he was strung up, "You've done well, Theophrastus..."
Theo bowed, "thank you, sir... May I-"
The Frumentarii held up a hand, "No. Let it run it's course."
Theophrastus paled, "of. Course. I understand, thank you."
"Come, Theophrastus."
Theo couldn't make himself look at Valencia, at the thing that had once been his brother, as he left.
homunculi are not allowed to perform in chrismas pageants at most churches because we are sins against god•
i still think i would slay as one of the magi• there is literally frankincense and myrrh in my blood•
homunculi made with chicken instead of beef are lower in fat' higher in protein' and capable of short burst flight•
theophrastus may be well·known for his ideas about alchemy but i don,t know if he ever made a real homunculus• not to stir up drama' but i don,t know her• ತ_ʖತ
master gathered all of the homunculi in the lab for christmas cookie decorating this week¡ if some of the boys didn,t make enough cookies' he unmade them' and then he sold them all without giving us a cut of the profit• he,s a paragon of wizardliness•
i snuck a cookie back to my drawer and fed it to the beetles• they died horribly• ( ꈍᴗꈍ)
The silphium plant of Cyrene, valued as a seasoning, aromatic, and for its medicinal properties, is referenced by several notable ancient writers, but two of the best-known descriptions come from Theophrastus (l. c. 371 to c. 287 BCE) and Pliny the Elder (l. 23-79 CE). By Pliny's time, silphium was extinct, most likely due to overharvesting and overgrazing.
