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  1. February 77 AD, the Gardens of Maecenas It had been Lucius' idea to come to the Gardens of Maecenas, for some reason of his own, and Gaius had agreed, it was neutral enough territory after the various conversations and disagreements they'd had over the last few months, culminating in Lucius' finally leaving the household to pursue his crazy idea of joining the vigiles. Apart from that, Gaius wasn't entirely sure why he was walking in the Gardens of Maecenas in February; the last time he'd visited one of Rome's public gardens in the winter, the girl had finally decided to call it off. Not that it had ever really been 'on', so to speak, but he hadn't pursued the matter and her father had been willing to let it drop even if he had the right to carry on making arrangements for the marriage. Gaius was rather glad he hadn't; he would rather not marry Ovinia if marrying him would make her unhappy. And there was the complication of his brother - the two of them knew each other somehow, that had been glaringly clear from the way they'd interacted at that dinner, although he hadn't been able to get anything out of Lucius about how, and of course it wasn't something he could have asked Ovinia. "So, how are you finding life with the vigiles?" he finally asked, pulling his cloak a little tighter around his shoulders; he had elected not to wear his senatorial tunic and toga for this informal outing, but was comfortably clothed in a dark green woollen tunic with a warm cloak over his pallium. @Chevi @Atrice
  2. Two days after his brother had burst into his tablinum with news that he had made a decision and wanted to pursue a career in the vigiles, with the aim of attaining the rank of prefect, Gaius had almost reconciled himself to what needed to happen. Almos, but not quite, which was why he was in the Piscina Publica, his faithful Cassander in tow, going to call on his own former legate. He needed an older man's opinion on this (even that of the irreverent Longinus would be more helpful than continually going over the same line of thought in his own head - maybe Longinus could see something he hadn't seen?) Anyway, it had been long enough since he'd seen his former commander. This was more of an excuse than anything - and he had sent his brother round to have a talk with him, Longinus might well want to know what, if anything, had come of that talk. He let Cassander knock on the door and go through the formalities - "My master has come to call on your master, if he is in?" - and then they were admitted to the house. The decoration in the atrium was as eclectic as he had remembered Longinus' house to be, and there was a dog barking somewhere in the back quarters. It sounded like quite a large dog. @Sara
  3. November, 76AD - a few days after Curbside Patrol In the five months that she'd been seeing Gaius Vipsanius Roscius, they must have visited every major tourist attraction in Rome. Barring the dinner at his domus in June, they'd gone to the Mausoleum of Augustus in August, a couple of temples in September, the Gardens of Maecenas in October and now here they were - or here she was waiting for him - on a blustery day in November, in the Gardens of Sallust. She wrapped her palla around herself to try and preserve some warmth and really wish she'd traded the idea of the gardens for one of the temples. At least they had fire. She supposed it was her own fault for dressing for fashion rather than practicality, but such was the lot of women on the marriage market and her mother had politely informed her that no man wanted to be seen with a woman dressed in a cloak that looked like a slave. Not that she particularly wanted to come today. Duty told her she had to although the prospect of making idle conversation with a man who had sanctioned his own brother into the most foolhardy endeavour, was less than thrilling. She was so cross and she didn't know why. She didn't know why it bothered her that Lucius had decided to forgo his family - beyond that he was abjectly rude to her that evening, or why she was so irritated that Gaius should let him. It wasn't her family - yet - and still it bothered her deeply in a way she couldn't shake off. She even looked aggrieved, jaw grinding together, mouth pressed into a thin line and eyes narrowed as she kept a lookout for him in one of the many shaded porticos that littered the garden. When she did spot him, she only made a vague gesture of greeting - inclining her head - and offered a tight smile, "Senator Roscius." TAG: @Sharpie
  4. Early August, 76AD Ovinia frowned, studying the inscriptions as she roamed the halls of the Mausoleum. Her father had chosen the venue for this meeting and had agonised over the location; he wanted somewhere formal enough that she didn't seem a silly young girl, but not stuffy. He wanted it to be in public so - despite her retinue of two slaves - no rumours of impropriety would follow her, but he didn't want somewhere crowded. Eventually he'd settled on the Mausoleum, and Ovinia had begrudgingly agreed and trekked (in her litter) halfway across the city to the venue. She was fashionably early and the crowds of tourists and such from the morning had departed, leaving a handful of clustered families and acquaintances wandering the halls. She numbered among them, with her bodyslave and a male household slave following behind her a few paces back. She wasn't sure what she was expecting from this meeting. The dinner definitely hadn't been a disaster but nor had it gone as well as some previous meetings with potential partners. She couldn't read Gaius much at all, and despite Tullus' firm words that he was a good, kind, pleasant man, Ovinia hadn't been able to get much of a read on him beyond the pleasantries they'd exchanged. She blamed his brother for that, and the awkwardness that had pervaded the evening. Hence - this time, they were alone. Or as alone as was proper. She shrugged her palla closer around her shoulders as she moved through the draughty halls. Despite it being the height of summer and roasting outside in here she was feeling the chill and regretted wearing such a thin chiton, ornate and expensive though it was. She cast a glance around the halls, eyes narrowed and trying to spot him before moving on to the next inscription. TAG: @Sharpie
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