Sara Posted January 2, 2022 Share Posted January 2, 2022 (edited) 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 Edited January 6, 2022 by Sara 1 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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