I fail at precise drabbling, as so far these are over 100 words. I think I've done all of them but Livia, I'll add her later.
Canterbury Tales Narrator Slash (I'll leave you to guess the narrators)
He doesn’t know her accents are wrong and that she’s confused the gender of words, when she throws French into the conversation. He counters with the little Latin he knows, and then realises that of course she’ll know that. He thinks of talking about his son, and stops himself, this is not that kind of conversation. So he talks to her of the courts he’s attended, and complements her conversation, and looks at her jewelry and says that it’s unusual for a woman in her position, what does it mean? She answers with talk of Christ and divine love, and he wants to draw her aside and ask what it really means, who gave it to her and would she like another?
Christabel/BlancheShe woke feeling hot breath on her neck, and long hair on her shoulder. The grey light through the window suggested early evening. She looked around. Blanche was curled around her, her head resting on her shoulder, stirring slightly. The memories came back now, Blanche’s discomfort throughout tea, her attempt to leave, and Christabel touching her shoulder lightly and finding herself caught in the others arms. Kissing away tears, stroking her skin, unpinning her hair. The normally prim woman as if in one of her own drawings, looking up at her. Blanche opened her eyes, looking panicked. Christabel smiled, squeezed her and gently began to speak as if in an incantation “Come live with me and be my love…”
For clauded_horizon Nefreti's thoughts on Hagar
She’s quiet and stern, rather than quiet and silly, as I know I appear. Nevertheless she fits with the joking and mockery better, knows when to laugh and not to ask foolish questions. I’m used to being turned away in conversation by the mameluks and imams and even Ptolemy, but not by someone like her. I’m puzzled by the authority her difference and silence gives her, in some ways it’s like what Ptolemy had before, what I’ve used to an extent. I wish she would put down her mace, and that I could hold a conversation, with her or with anybody else.For athenegenia Octavian and Augustus meet
The iuvenus looks for someone familiar, his uncle, his friends and finds none. He dreads that Achilles’ utterance in the Odyssey will prove true, that he would rather be some slave than here. He doesn’t know yet. He doesn’t know how long he’s been here, and how long he will stay. A grand, elderly man is striding around the crowds of souls, brighter, more solid. He sees this must be one of the gods, and both wishes and doesn’t wish for the god to turn his gaze on him. Which happens, and he realises…For islandgorilla Captain Jack/Aphrodite
Jack is unnerved by someone, especially someone female, especially someone prehistoric, hitting on him within the first ten seconds of their meeting. He doesn’t quite know what to say. He garbles a few words of Carthaginian while looking at her legs. Dammit, he should be polite, be gentlemanly. Did twelfth century Carthaginians have the same idea of gender roles? He remembers they had a queen, do they have some early form of feminism. He catches her eye again and she smiles. “The wrong young man” she says “Nevertheless…” and he really hopes she’ll reach forward and touch him. Or kiss him.
Caligula disagrees with Jove
“How does one appear in a different form?” the god-emperor asks.
“I’m sorry?” replies the king of the Gods
“I would like to appear in a different form. To ravish maidens. How do I do that?”
“I’m afraid you’ve already done so. Appeared, that is, not ravished maidens.”
“What’s the point of being a god if I can’t?”
“You don’t seem to understand. You’re a rather minor god. A lesser god. That’s reserved for the pantheon proper. Perhaps, some day, you shall reach that. For the meantime you are confined to Olympus, and answering some mortal’s petitions.”
“I must say, I wasn’t expecting you to be… separate. And officious”.