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Amatia Attelia


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Amatia Atella

20 | December 57 AD | Plebeian | Baker | Bisexual | Original | Elle Fanning





To most people, Amatia is a cheerful and polite young woman who always has a smile to share and a favor to do. She especially loves talking with people from all sorts of ranks and professions, usually those who buy from her family’s bakery, and will gladly give out an extra piece of bread or two to loyal patrons. She’s in love with her job, (somewhat) loyal to her family, and on a fast track to getting married. 

However, there’s something off about her to those who observe her closely. Her smiles are too large, her eyes don’t blink enough, and she’s just a little too calm. Luckily, most chalk up these discrepancies to her being a young woman who’s overly innocent in the face of the real world, or alternatively a poor soul still reeling from her brother’s untimely death.

What they don’t know is that she lives a double life. When the bakery is closed for the night and the rest of her family is asleep, Amatia slips into the night to join a certain barber in his nightly killing sprees. She has an obsession with blood, especially its flavor, and insists on finding the tastiest kind. On those nights, her cheerfulness grows to the point of showing sadistic tendencies, as she will happily hurt or kill someone with a bright smile on her face. 

She has a very warped idea of what love is. Her loved ones aren’t supposed to leave her, not even for a second, and perhaps it is very lucky that she isn’t very attached to her betrothed, for otherwise she’d beg to be with him all the time. The people she looks up to as family and friends are people she will devote her complete, undying attention to, regardless of whether they actually want it or not. 



Amatia, having Britannic blood on her father’s side, is a bit taller than the average Roman woman at 5’5. Her build is lithe, and it sometimes seems as though a strong wind could blow her away. Despite her frame, her hands are strong from kneading dough and mixing ingredients, and she is quite adept with the knife. Much like her father, her hair is a light blonde, and her eyes are glacial blue. Typically, she wears beige or light gray tunics that are hard-wearing, along with an apron for when she’s working in the kitchen. When out on her nightly excursions, she swaps out her tunic for a dark gray-brown one, and covers her hair with a similarly drab piece of cloth to obscure her identity. She usually keeps a sharp paring knife either on her belt for scoring bread or hidden in a fold in her tunic for...other things. 



Father: Lucius Amatius Attelus

Mother: Laelia Lentula

Siblings: All older brothers. Lucius Amatius Attelus (deceased), Quintus Amatius Attelus, Sextus Amatius Attelus

Spouse: Currently betrothed to Publius Decius Albinus

Children: N/A

Extended family: N/A

Other: N/A



57-71 AD

Her dad was a freedman, you know. It caused such a fuss when he decided to marry a plebeian woman. How scandalous! How unfitting! Amatia knows about it, ‘cause apparently her mother’s parents don’t talk to them anymore. She also knew from a young age her father hated daughters. Why’d he keep her when he threw away the others? Mother told her he saw something in her, a spark in her eyes, that reminded him of big brothers Lucius and Quintus and Sextus, so he kept her. She later learned that it was because Mother cried so much over losing the last few that Father relented. But it didn’t mean he liked her. 

One day, she was playing with a chicken in the back when Father came out and grabbed it, then walked over to the cutting board and neatly lopped its head off. She loved seeing the red coming out of it, and made sure to get some on her hands. Father told her to stop, but by the time Mother came around, Amatia had already licked her fingers clean. The soup made from the chicken was warm and sweet. 

Father was mean, but Mother was kind. Her eyes were like pools of earth. Amatia used to stay by her side when they had lazy mornings, but she stopped after a while. Quintus and Sextus tried teaching Amatia right from wrong, yet they hated it when she didn’t understand things as quickly as she should have. One time Quintus got into big trouble when he broke the cutting board and Father was so angry. Amatia started singing “Father’s going to kill you,” and Mother angrily told her to stop. “What is wrong with that child?” she asked. Amatia didn’t understand. 

But Lucius understood. He let her walk with him in the mornings and told her stories about life outside the city. He didn’t find it weird or creepy that she cut apart dead lizards with a sharp stick. Instead, he told her that if she were born a boy, she could have become a good medicus and helped him in the army. Amatia loved him. He always told her everything would be okay when Father got mad at her, but his smiles were all wrong. 

72 AD

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this! Lucius taught her so much, and just when things were getting better he wanted to go away! She heard the words whispered in the dead of night: he wanted to become a legionary, to fight on the front in shining mail armor with a scutum and gladius and pugio (she’d learned those words from him). Why did he wish to leave!? Didn’t he understand if he left, there would be worse things than the guild losing him, that everybody else would avoid her? It wasn’t her fault Mother seemed uneasy around her own daughter. She couldn’t appreciate the life that came from blood the way Amatia could. Why did Lucius look so scared when she grinned at him? She was just trying to make everyone happy!

The night before he went away, Amatia begged him to take one last walk with her. She was smart this time; she brought the knife, tucked away in her tunic. Lucius glanced this way and that as the pair walked through the night. He asked her where they were going, that surely a young girl like her should be going to bed. Oh, Lucius. He always thought of her as his darling little sister. 

Right when they passed through a decrepit alley, Amatia drew the knife and stabbed him between the ribs. He tried punching her, but made a wonderful gasping noise instead. How funny! Nothing he said would have made his leaving okay. If he was going to go away, he may as well go away for good! Amatia buried the knife in soft belly, then chest, then throat. The blood was so tangy. She ran home bloodstained, knife hidden in her tunic, and cried that someone had attacked the two of them. After the initial rush, she quietly rinsed off the knife out of sight, then put it back where it was supposed to be. Father’s face looked like a raisin when he cried. She had to work hard to hold back her laughter.

72-77 AD

Everyone seems so serious nowadays. Mother’s eyes are always red, and Father waters down his wine less than he should. Sextus and Quintus reluctantly stayed. Of course they couldn't leave, with the family permanently being down a worker. Frankly, Amatia doesn’t understand why they’re so caught up about the past. Father has more sons, right? He can do without one. Blood flows through everyone and unites families. Amatia was never sad, not when Lucius died knowing how much she loved him. 

Ah, well. She’s perfectly fine with remaining cheery as always. The people who came by at Lucius’s funeral told her she was a strong girl for not crying one bit. Now, she kneads the dough in the morning with Quintus and Father, and even handles the coins sometimes when the bakery is busy and Mother’s asleep again. 

A young man with kind dark brown eyes stopped by one time. She enjoyed seeing the blood rush to his face when he spoke to her. It’s probably why she agreed to show him to Father. Father didn’t mind much. She’s not stupid. She knows Father suspects her. But who would believe that a sweet young woman like her could do such a heinous thing?

There is talk of marriage, but before she’s handed off for good, Amatia would very much like to have some freedom doing what she loves most: appreciating others. Some were familiar, others not. The young woman down the street looks so lovely. She certainly do with seeing what blood ties bind them. Warm and sweet. Warm and sweet. Warm and sweet.


Insignia | PST | Can PM for Discord

Edited by Insignia
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