Romans

The moment Olivia throws open the closet doors, you see them—two carefully laid-out costumes. The first is a regal white tunic with a deep red sash, a golden laurel wreath to accompany it, and intricate gold embroidery. The second, however, is something else entirely. It’s a flowing white dress with golden accents, but it clings in all the right places, featuring an open slit along the side that reveals nearly all of her leg, and a plunging neckline that leaves very little to the imagination. A golden circlet rests beside it, adorned with delicate etchings and small pearls.

You raise an eyebrow at her, but she only grins, the mischievous glint in her eyes telling you she knows exactly what she's doing.

“A Roman senator?” you ask, holding up the tunic.

“And I,” Olivia declares, striking a playful pose, “am your goddess… or maybe an empress? Honestly, I don’t know. I just wanted to look good.”

You let out a chuckle. “Mission accomplished.”

She gives you a wink before grabbing her outfit and heading toward the bathroom to change. You do the same, slipping into your tunic and draping the sash over your shoulder. The fabric is surprisingly comfortable, and the golden accents give it a dignified air. You fit the laurel wreath onto your head, glancing at yourself in the mirror. You actually look pretty good. But none of that will matter once Olivia steps out.

And sure enough, when she emerges a few minutes later, you feel your breath hitch.

She is absolutely stunning.

The dress hugs her form in all the right places, the golden details accentuating her curves. The slit of the dress reveals the long, smooth expanse of her leg as she takes a step forward, and the neckline… well, you have to remind yourself to keep your eyes on hers. The circlet in her hair gives her an almost divine presence, as if she truly could be some long-lost Roman goddess.

“Wow,” you finally manage, shaking your head. “You’re going to be the center of attention.”

She smirks, stepping closer. “That’s kind of the point, isn’t it?” Her fingers trail down the fabric of your sash, adjusting it slightly. “Besides, we look great together.”

“Right, but—” You hesitate, looking between her costume and yours. “Are we supposed to be a couple in these outfits? A senator and his… goddess? Empress?”

She tilts her head, considering for a moment. Then, with a slow, almost teasing smile, she shrugs. “I guess that’s up to interpretation.”

Before you can question her further, she grabs your hand again, pulling you toward the door. “Come on, let’s go mingle.”

You barely have time to process what she means by that before you’re out in the chaos of the party once again. The house is still packed, the music is livelier now, and the costumes are even more ridiculous than before. Some people are dressed in completely random outfits—pirates, superheroes, fairytale creatures, and even a guy in an inflatable dinosaur suit stomping clumsily through the crowd. However, there is also a distinct contingent of Greek and Roman costumes, making it seem almost like a divided theme. Togas, gladiator armor, and flowing chitons mix in with the more eccentric choices.

You pass a guy in a centurion outfit who gives you a nod of approval, a woman in an elaborate Medusa costume who shoots you a knowing grin, and a man wearing… well, you’re not sure if he’s supposed to be a Roman gladiator or just shirtless with a belt. Further in, you spot a trio dressed as Greek philosophers, engaged in a mock debate over what appears to be a bowl of olives.

Olivia seems completely in her element, leading you through the crowd with ease. She waves to people, exchanges laughs, and at one point, someone hands her a goblet of wine. Then another. Before long, she presses one into your hands as well. You take a sip, the warmth spreading through you as the drink starts to relax your senses. The party is a blur of laughter, movement, and flowing drinks. More goblets appear in your hands as the night carries on, and soon, you find yourself swaying slightly, the room tilting ever so slightly with each step.

You and Olivia have fun lording around, playing up the roles of senator and goddess, issuing playful commands to your "subjects" and reveling in the atmosphere. However, the fun is short-lived when a strong, imposing gladiator steps forward, a rebellious glint in his eyes. The crowd hushes as he raises his arm.

"Enough of this tyranny!" he proclaims, his voice carrying over the gathered partygoers. "Rome belongs to the people!"