Ovinia Camilla

Senatore

Posts
1,137
Last visited
8 hours ago
Player
Sara

About Ovinia Camilla

Senator’s daughter

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Face Claim
Bruna Marquezine
Location
Rome
Activity Level
Fast

Face Claim

Bruna Marquezine
Location

Rome
Activity Level

Fast

Topics I Participated In

Vigilantes [M]

Started by Lucius Manius Victorius Roscianus · May 2

Somewhere, in an alternate universe...
Lucius Roscoe swore under his breath as he was buzzed through the gates of the imposing five-story building. Press could dress it up any way they wanted, this place was a goddamn prison for powered people. Security cameras? Security doors? High walls and barbed wire? Damn. Were they trying to keep bigots out, or keep the residents in?
For him, it was definitely prison. Or as close as he'd get, for now. Having made a mess of things back home, he was now here as per his deal in court. Get a grip on his power,s straighten up and fly right, join an officially licenced (or unofficially accepted...) team, or else, he'd be sent to a facility that was qualified to hold powered people, and in all likelihood never see the light of day again. Part of him was still weighing that option.
He walked through the spacious grounds to the tall building. They were on the far side of New York City, but ground this big... still a luxury. Then again, probably no one wanted to be a very close neighbor with people who could create lightning and turn into jaguars and whatnot. Or... people like Lucius. Wearing torn jeans and a leather jacket, with a beat-up duffle bag slung over his shoulder, despite his young age he was the kind of person decent folks gave funny looks at. Even without knowing why he was wearing thick, elbow-length gloves in this nice spring weather.
Lucius whispered one last "fuck me" before he sighed, and rang the doorbell. This place was going to suck.
@Sara
The Tempest

Started by Ovinia Camilla · March 26

AU - 76AD
Everything stung. The pain of salt water mixed with fresh bleeding wounds dragged her back to the land of the living slowly, with groggy coughs that spilled more salt water onto the sand, and shaking limbs that tried to push herself to her back. Ovinia didn't understand where she was. The last thing she remembered was the darkness of the Ionian Sea stretching out menacingly before them, the white caps of waves illuminated by the moon and stars that twinkled overhead. Now she was here - (finally) led on her back on the sand of a beach, shivering in the warm sunlight of early morning, drenched, in pain, and...alone.
She tried to move her head and managed it with effort to scan her surroundings. Everything was blurry and she moved shaking fingers to wipe the sand and hair and water from her face. The effort caused her to cough again - her lungs burning. Nobody to her right; just wood broken up on the shoreline. She dropped her head back to the sand in effort. After a few breaths she managed to look to her left. She wished she hadn't. Bodies - only a couple, but that's what they were. For a brief moment she considered if they - like her - would rouse when their wounds started to burn but then she saw their faces - down into the water, their bodies still and she let out a strangled cry.
This was supposed to be a small trip; a surprise one, it's why she'd travelled alone besides her bodyslave and a guard. From Rome to Patara to visit her brother, it would have been two weeks or perhaps three, but they had been held in Taenarum and had, had to board a new boat. It had been a creaking thing, uncomfortable but fast and they had set off two mornings ago - lugging around the cape and into the sea dotted by islands that shimmered like jewels in the blue of the water. She wished she'd remembered and she shut her eyes again, dropping her head back to the sand as she tried to flick through memories of the night. She managed to claw back a memory of a creaking sound and a scream. Her eyes flew open in panic again. She had to move. Water was lapping at her ankles and she was shivering, even in the warmth of the sun.
"H-help." Her voice was a croak, barely audible. She prayed she wasn't alone.

TAG: @Chevi
Dinner for Two

Started by Ovinia Camilla · March 26

February 77AD
Ovinia squinted at the hydraulis as it made yet another squeaking sound and withdrew her fingers from the keys in frustration. She'd had the thing for a little over a month and beyond picking up how to play a few easy tunes when alone, the enormity of the instrument frustrated and irritated her. She knew exactly why her father had given it to her; ostensibly to 'cheer her up' (his words) after what had happened to her, but the fact she couldn't move it to her room or take it anywhere in Rome suggested to her that he was content to indulge her love of music only in the privacy of the domus...where he could listen in from his tablinum on who she was playing it for. He hadn't purchased a longed for cithara for her, no that would have been far too portable and Gaius Ovinius Camillus didn't want his only daughter singing and playing tunes across the city like some common actress. She gave the tower of wood an apathetic kick in frustration and the slave who was operating the pump flinched out of the way. Ovinia waved her hand and the man scurried off.
The domus was quiet - the only sounds now filtering into the small room that led off to the garden came from the water lopping over the sides of the fountain. She knew her mother was ill in bed, and likely to request of her father a trip to the villa to recover but the rest of her family...? Ovinia frowned and moved out into the quiet of early evening in the garden. Dressed casually (for her) in a thin tunica with a thick blanket artlessly wrapped around her shoulders to stave off the winter chill, she squinted into the twilight. It was nearly time for dinner and usually by this hour her brothers were bandying about the place harassing the slaves and changing their minds about what they wanted to eat whilst her father murmured quiet business with his secretary in the tablinum. But there was none of that today and she huffed, moving through the garden to the other side and into the triclinium. Silence still pervaded.
A slave girl scurried in with her arms laden with plates and cups, which she almost dropped in surprise at seeing Ovinia. "Where is my father? And my brothers?" The girl hurriedly put down her load and straightened up. "Domine and your eldest brother are at a dinner, domina. Dominus Tertius said to Manus he would be out late with friends and domina Matia is..." Ovinia waved a hand to cut her off, "In bed. I know." She shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. Before the...incident had rattled her brain and left her a shell she had always had a good grasp on what her family were doing but now her distraction was evident. She hadn't even realised her brothers and fathers were out this evening, even though they'd likely mentioned it this morning. She needed to get her head on straight. Feeling awkward at the prospect of dinner alone, she turned to the slave girl; "And Lucius? At the barracks?"

TAG: @Sarah
A Day of Culture

Started by Ovinia Camilla · March 11

Late January, 77AD
Outside the Temple of Fortuna, in the Forum Boarium
Ovinia looked at the sky, trying to deduce the time as she stood on the steps leading into the Temple of Fortuna, with her slave girl and guard in tow. Was Alexius late, or was she early? She tried to focus on the feelings of annoyance at being left waiting and not at her deep discomfort at being outside of the domus. She pulled the palla which was over her hair, tighter about herself and crossed her arms under her chest. She had a very full day planned today and she hadn't expected to start it so late. They'd start at the Temple of Fortuna - for him - her guard leaving as soon as Alexius was in sight, and from there they'd walk to Temple of Hercules Victor, through the Forum - maybe taking in the markets - and then onto the Temple Apollo Palatinus and then the Library of Palatine Apollo, where she'd arranged to meet Lucius as well at sunset. Provided Alexius wasn't any later than he was already and they could fit it all in.
She was dressed in typical Ovinia fashion - trying to mask her enormous lack of confidence in a confident display of her wealth. She was wearing a deep emerald silk chiton, belted tightly, with a paler green palla edged with gold disks that jangled melodically in the breeze that whipped up the Temple steps. She was freezing, but at least she looked nice. The chill also gave her a healthy, rosy flush which her mother had always said looked pretty, so there was that. Her slaves were equally eye-catching, laden with offerings as they were. She'd told Alexius she'd deal with that part of their trip, and so her poor slavegirl was saddled with two bags. In one, for this first trip, there was a glass jar filled with the mixture of honey, milk and floral petals that their good Goddess apparently enjoyed, and an enormous cake in the shape of a cart's wheel. There was gold as well, to pay the priests and priestesses and for incense. Ovinia never did things by halves.
Finally spotting him working his way through the crowds (a benefit of his height!) she gave him a slightly bemused look, trying to bluster confidence she didn't feel; "Did you forget the hour of our meeting, Alexius? Or were you otherwise occupied?"

TAG: @Atrice
A Sarmatian and a Senator's daughter

Started by Jason · February 4

Come and see me - if you want.
Jason didn't think that Ovinia would remember the offer, or be willing to entertain a slave, but that didn't stop him approaching the yellow and red painted house with the green door. He wasn't going to be allowed access through the front door, but it was worth a try - and he had no intention of walking all the way round the house to try to locate a service door and probably equally unhelpful slaves there.
He knocked, and waited. The ostiarius looked out from his spy-hole with a frown that became distinctly less friendly when he saw that Jason was a slave, and alone. "Slaves go round the back."
"I've got a message for your mistress," Jason said. He didn't like name-dropping or using his position as his master's slave - he'd been the son of a chief, he hadn't needed to rely on his association with anyone else, once.
"From my master Tiberius Claudius Sabucius, to be delivered in person to Ovinia - Camilla." She hadn't given her second name, but Jason had the sharp mind of a Sarmatian and knew that there was only one Ovinia his master was any acquaintance of.
"I should still send you round the back," the ostiarius muttered, but grudgingly opened one leaf of the double door. Just enough for Jason to squeeze through.
"And I hope your prick shrivels up and drops off," Jason told him in Sarmatian in a perfectly friendly tone of voice. "Thank you."

@Sara
Writings on the Wall

Started by Ovinia Camilla · January 31

Mid January 77AD
Ovinia hurried through the alley, hair still damp, curling against her neck under the heavy palla she wore up over her head when out in public now. She was trailed by Lucia and the brutish slave assigned as her guard but as agreed with her father, they were ten or so paces behind. They also stopped when she did, eyes down and watching the street ahead. She hated passing through here now, but hated even more that she smiled to herself at the memories the place held. What promptly wiped her smile, as always, was the crude handwriting scratched into the wall. It had caught her eye a couple of weeks before:
Sweet Saturnalia kisses here turned so bitter. Farewell, bitch.
She'd choked when she'd first seen it and Lucia had promptly hurried to her side, frowning intently at her domina and the writing. Ovinia had shooed her away and bid her and her bodyguard further up the road. She'd withdrawn a hair pin and hurriedly scratched back before she could find any sense:
The kisses weren't even that good.
She'd loathed herself after and spent most of the next few days brooding over her childishness. She shouldn't rise to it. To him. But she did. The embarrassment she felt that day at the Porticus Livae was only intensifying. He'd only kissed her because of the festival. He'd only come to see her because he'd been summoned by her father. She'd been so naive and so hopeful and she'd said farewell to an excellent match, in part, for a youthful infatuation that wasn't even returned. She rationalised that as the reason she'd scratched into the wall. That had to be it. It didn't explain why she had choked, incensed when she saw her message had been replied to a few days later on her way to the baths:
That's because you're frigid. Loosen up.
Lucia had, once again, rushed to her side and frowned at the writing. Ovinia's cheeks were burning red and Lucia had immediately gripped her hand, gesturing for the guard to stay back. "What do you want me to do?" Ovinia had played dumb, shrugging and denying everything as she went to the baths. She'd shaken her head and said she didn't know what it was and that she merely thought the graffiti in poor taste. Lucia hadn't been born yesterday though and it was only when Ovinia's eyes filled with watery tears that her slave had ushered her into a quieter corner of the baths, shrouding her with a towel and insistently asking what she needed. She didn't ask for details, merely what she could do to help. Ovinia knew there was a reason she had always liked the girl. She'd choked it out, embarrassed, upset and confused; "He's a bastard." Lucia had nodded and taken that as instructions, halting by the wall as Ovinia hurried through. She'd scratched back, Ovinia would see a few days later:
Bastard. You are a man with no honour.
The poor girl had not only scratched the words but had to deal with Ovinia's breakdown on it not a few hours later. She'd clearly been expecting it and had come back to the domus full of assurances that no; she wouldn't tell Ovinia's father and no, a kiss with a man didn't make Ovinia a whore. It had almost...bemused her, even as Ovinia refused to admit which man it was. Lucia could guess though. It had made Ovinia feel a little better. Just for a few days, just until she had seen the newest reply on her way to the baths:
Slut. You are a woman with no morals.
It did not occur to Ovinia in that moment that the Lucius she had known would never have been so crude, nor cruel. In her head, it had to be him. It was in this alley they had kissed so heatedly, on Saturnalia as the graffiti had said. It had shattered her, and steadied her hand as she penned her letter to the barracks:
Recruit Roscius,
If you do not desist in the slander on the wall of that place where we had shared a moment, I will have no choice but to escalate the matter to my father for his awareness. I will not hesitate to pursue all options to remedy your entitlement and cruelty.
I do not understand why you are doing this.
O. C.
It had been delivered by a boy she had paid an as to two days ago and she had been hesitant more than ever to go to the alley. She hadn't looked at the wall on the way to the baths but now, hair damp against her skin, cheeks still flushed from the heat of the water and the steam, and body veiled in a palla, her eyes couldn't help but be drawn to the wall. No new writing. No reply. She frowned, relief washing through her but sadness replacing it swiftly. So it was him.

TAG: @Chevi
Visitation Rights

Started by Ovinia Camilla · January 30

Early January, 77AD
A week or so after: Winter Walk & Teamwork Is Magic
Ovinia was curled in her chair, watching the rhythmic drip, drip, drip of the rain that fell across the garden. She was sat in one of the small receiving rooms that opened directly off of the peristyle garden, swatched in a thick blanket and a scroll of some elegy laying virtually discarded in her lap. She looked tired; she was tired; the nightmares had gotten worse if anything.
Despite the weeks that had passed since the attack she was still largely sequestered in the house - her walks and pre-determined dinners notwithstanding. That suited her fine - every time she did leave the house she spent her days worrying about who was lurking in the shadows, who was following her and who was holding a knife just out of reach. She exhaled at the thought and tucked herself tighter into the chair and the blanket. She'd had few visitors since this self-imposed exile and her father had used the excuse that she was busy at home, being the dutiful daughter caring for her ailing mother to decline invitations to visit. So when one of the slave girls quietly padded into the room and said that one Lucius Antonius Alexius was here to see her, she was surprised. Her father wasn't at home, so the choice to see him fell to her. She gratefully nodded her head and asked the girl to bid him in.
She knew he knew, but her father had been clear that nobody else beyond Lucius and his Centurion was to know. That he'd visit her here suggested there was something more serious going on; they'd just have to keep their voices down. She was grateful for the visit though and offered a weak smile as she saw him enter the room, Lucia following.

TAG: @Atrice
Battle wounds

Started by Aia · January 10

(End of the year, 76AD, after Winter walk)
Decimus was on duty, and Aia was out of work for the day, so it was a great time to spend a few hours at the baths. Living at the insula, Aia had grown to like the neighborhood, and wandered around the Esquiline hill until she found the best spots for everything. Best food, best markets, best views... and the best baths. Not the biggest or most fancy ones, but the ones that were clean, never overcrowded, smelled nice, and had good water.
As she walked from the tepidarium into the room with the hot water, she discarded her towel, and walked down the steps. Once upon a time, it would have been unthinkable for her to be naked like this around other people - back when everyone thought she was a boy. Sometimes, discarding her clothing still felt like a dangerous thing to do, even in a bath full of women. Not just because of her body, but also because of the scars. She didn't mind them anymore - and Decimus had given her ample reminders he did not mind anything about her body at all - but here in the city, far from the legions, they still got some curious looks from people. Mostly because it was clear there were cuts done by blades, not the usual lash marks of burns carried by slaves and freed people.
Still, she was used to it by now. Aia sighed a contented sigh, entering the hot water, letting her long red hair down.
@Sara
Winter walk

Started by Lucius Manius Victorius Roscianus · January 10

(End of the year, 76AD, after Assemble)
Narcissus was still damn ugly. Lucius stood, looking at the paintings, remembering the day a mere half a year earlier, when he'd first met Ovinia Camilla at the portico. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Would he have done anything differently, if he'd known...? Would he do anything different now?
Ovinia had sent word that she was going for a walk. Probably under serious supervision, but her father wanted to keep up appearances. She would come here, because it was her usual place to walk, and today was a nice, mild winter day. Lucius was not wearing his uniform this time, just a plain tunica and a cloak, wandeling along the painting of the portico. Their meeting was not actually sanctioned by anyone. But he had news for her, she deserved to know. And he wanted to see her, see how she was holding up. It was still eating away at him that he could not comfort her after the attack.
@Sara
All's fair in love and war [M]

Started by Ovinia Camilla · January 2

AU Timeline - 78AD
Ovinia had not expected to spend her twenty first birthday locked in a cage, tears drying on her cheeks, hair a rats nest of tangles and wearing the itchiest tunica she'd ever had the misfortune to own. Then again, she had not expected her father to miscalculate quite so badly. Civil war - he had said - had been inevitable; people were discontented, food was growing scarcer with the poor harvests and the leadership structure was crumbling. He had believed until the moment he had bid that slave to plunge the sword through his chest, that he had been in the right. She had thought so too. Only now, as his daughter sat alone in her cell, did she begin to doubt it. Her mother had followed him out with a poison sipped in her wine and her brothers were scattered to the winds; some in chains others fleeing for their lives. Somebody had to answer for the crimes of those who had stoked the discord throughout the Empire now the dust had settled, and unfortunately for Ovinia Camilla, the judgement had fallen on her. And all the other crying, wailing once-Citizens locked up with her.
A voice barked a little way off; "Ovinia Camilla!" She ignored it, arms hugging around her knees even tighter and staring straight at the floor. It rang out again; "Which one of you is Ovinia Camilla!" She glowered as the man drew to a stop just in front of the cage, glancing between the rows of women. Somebody's voice piped up behind her. Nessenia. The bitch. "She's there - that one, in the green." She'd never liked the pompous, self-serving arrogant young woman. Before she could tell her as much though a hand found her upper arm and yanked her up and out into the corridor and through into a courtyard. She blinked into the daylight as it burned her eyes. "Wash yourself." The man grunted and she blinked at a large bucket of cold water, and a comb set out on a small stool. She scoffed. "I'm not washing in front of you." The man merely shrugged, unmoved. "You'll be doing a lot more than that if you don't hurry the fuck up." The glint in his eyes set her on edge and she swallowed, picking up the rag. She didn't undress, but he didn't seem that bothered beyond reminding her every thirty seconds that she had to hurry. She took her time, leisurely combing her hair and scrubbing the grime from her arms, from her chest, from her face.
"Move it." She felt a shove to the back and she stumbled. The man didn't care, urging her forward. They drew to the main gate. She remembered coming in, only three days ago but it felt like a lifetime. "You run, you get branded. You fall behind, I use these." The man held up a pair of menacing looking manacles. "Where are we going?" She said in response but the man merely shoved her forward, out of the open gate and into the crowds of a city rebuilding itself. "I said, where are we going?" She protested. She knew where they were going. She knew she was supposedly a slave now and that presumably meant she was on her way to whomever now 'owned' her, but who that person was, she had no idea. She felt a lurch in her stomach. This was the moment she'd been dreading, perhaps more than any other. Images of the girls being dragged off to the brothels filled her mind. She felt her breath quicken. "I said..." She felt the slap before she saw the hand and she winced, clutching her face in pain. "You don't get to demand answers. Now move." The man grunted, angling his hand in between her shoulder blades to hurry her along.
By the time they drew to a stop she was breathless, her calves burning from the walk in ill-fitting sandals. She didn't recognise this region, which was a relief and nor did there seem to be a brothel or popina here. She let out a breath, leaning forward heavily to try and draw more air in as the man knocked on a door. It was a residential road; damaged by the looting and fires that had overtaken the city in the last few weeks of the unrest, but this domus was still standing. How, she didn't know - the Civil War had been going on for over a year and it had left very little of the city untouched. A hand gripped around her upper arm again, dragging her into the frigid home where a slave was standing, looking quizzically at the man and then her in turn. She could see suspicion and resentment lingering in his eyes. "Wait here." The man instructed to her and then jerked his head at the man. "You, follow me. The dominus is in the tablinum." So she was left alone. She did not wait where she was instructed too and instead cast her eyes around - looking at every bit of it. It seemed unloved in, this place; cold and new in a way she couldn't place. A few people milled around, slaves she assumed and she merely cast them an imperious, derisory look and left it at that.
She saw the man who had accompanied her move back into the atrium out of the corner of her eye, from where she was examining a fresco. He offered her a smirk and a chuckle. "Good luck. You're up." Gesturing for her to make her way to the tablinum, before ducking back out of the door. She blinked and slowly, leisurely glided to the curtained room. It was gloomy. She didn't say anything - just gave the man sitting behind the desk and the slave to his right a mild look. The silence couldn't last though, and she added; "Well?"

TAG: @Chevi