R O M U L U S

Aspect ⚜︎ Mars Magister ⚜︎ Brother

[romulusmarius]

amalasingh​:

Her entire life the last few weeks has consisted of repairing the palace and trying to keep Il Cane Nero running as usual. It’s not only stressful work, it’s downright painful. As a marshal, when she’d first come to Rome, she loved the lavish palace, she’d loved that it looked like somewhere a vampire should live, it was so fitting and full of such a rich history. She’d spent many a day just lost in the halls and staring up at all the paintings, the perfectly crafted archways. And now she was trying to find someone who could do those same archways justice, who could restore what they’d managed to salvage, sitting in the garden, and sulking. When her attendants had rushed to tell her that someone was there to see her, she’d sighed and waved them away. Amala loved visitors, she loved showing off the palace, she loved being proud of her home, but now she felt just as the palace looked. Broken down and exhausted, she couldn’t even put on a smile for the vampire that approached her. Instead her elbow rested on the circular stone table, her chin in her hand. “Senator Amala Singh.” She does sit up straight at least, her posture returning to its usual rigid nature, her hands folding in front of her as she nods for the newcomer to sit. “I’m sorry I could not receive you inside one of the usual drawing rooms, everything must be structurally sound again before we move onto fixing actual rooms.” Amala doesn’t recognize the man, he’s not of her bloodline, and for a moment she’s more curious about that, about what he might want. “But we can speak freely out here.”

⚜︎

“Senator Singh,” Romulus corrected, dipping his head a fraction before accepting the Pluto leader’s invitation. Unbuttoning his suit jacket, he came to rest opposite her. Vampires didn’t tire, they were biologically hardwired to remain alert, but he could see it in her eyes—recent events had caused irrefutable damage, both physically against her beloved home, and to her heart. “Please, do not apologise. I am grateful to make your acquaintance.” Gesturing to their battered surrounds, he continued. “I fear I am late to the party.” 

Romulus had been watching Rome with increasing concern for some time; the Halloween massacre was merely the catalyst for his return. “I can see you’re very busy, so I won’t waste your time with niceties. My name is Romulus,” pausing, the magister adjusted one of his cuff links before looking his companion straight in the eye. “I am here to ascertain how the Senate let this happen.”

[romulusmarius]

who: @dionbaudelaire where: romulus’ study, rione monti when: late evening

“No magical life should be taken,” Romulus quoted, slamming his fist against an antique table. Its glass top fractured, sending shards into the parquet hardwood below their feet. Blood trickled in a crimson line across his wrist before his flesh knitted flawlessly together. “The first law of a venerable creed, disregarded since its conception, even broken by its very author.” Turning to face Dion, a man he had known for countless lifetimes, Romulus stilled.

Credited with founding Rome’s armies and the systems of patronage that underpinned all social, governmental and military activities, the magistrate was well-versed in the politics of death. On the low ground between the Palatine and Capitoline hills almost three millennia ago, he was able to instil some semblance of peace amongst the species who sought refuge below his banner. He never set out to create a utopia absent of violence, but there was no place for lawlessness or corruption in Romulus’ Senate. Unfortunately, left to their own machinations, altruism did not prevail.

As the centuries passed, Romulus’ tolerance for insolence waned. Yesterday he hadn’t hesitated to take the heart of a vampire in Vatican City who stalked and tortured two humans. “These laws are ineffective, Senator Baudelaire.” Romulus continued, removing the handkerchief from his chest pocket to wipe his hands. “I would very much like to hear your opinions on recent events. I fear drastic reform is needed.”

[romulusmarius]

arastirmacii​:

Festivities seemed to be sweeping over the city as the seasons had changed, and the holidays were fast upon them. Unfortunately, Sanem hadn’t been very able to join in on them just yet. Not with the disruption the Halloween tragedy had caused for the Eye. With the amount of hunters they had lost, with Kadir’s passing heavy on her mind, and the work that had been shoveled onto her plate, she hadn’t had much of even a moment to breathe. Even now, as the sounds of the festivities reached her from seemingly every street in Rome, she could barely raise her gaze from the screen of her mobile.

A new lycan had been dropped at her feet, the results of their discovery to the Otherworld still needing to be combed through, and much, much more that had her spending nearly every night awake. She was certain that her vision was permanently damaged at this point from how long she had been staring at computer screens. And just as she was about to send off another set of results, what felt like a truck slammed into the side of her. She could just hear the sound of her phone shattering on the ground as her head bounced off the side of what she could only imagine was a building.

There was a ringing in her ears, and Sanem already accessed that she would likely have a mild concussion. It was also beneficial that she hadn’t immediately passed out from the sudden hit. The sound of slurred words pushed through the ringing, and for a brief moment, she wondered whether she had been hit hard enough to not be able to make the words out. Or if whoever had hit her was not making any sense. As her gaze focused upon the man that had her pressed to the wall, Sanem was finally able to understand what had happened. And the picture of the two vampires, drunk vampires, became clear. Just moments before the one holding her buried his teeth into the side of her neck, and the scream was practically ripped from her lungs. 

Abandoning the ceremony, Romulus traversed the length of Vatican City in a matter of seconds. Arriving at the mouth of a decrepit alley on the ecclesiastical state’s border, the smell of death enveloped him. To his left, a fresh body lay discarded on the cobbled floor, its neck a twisted mess of bone and muscle. Without stepping in the pool of blood that crept steadily towards him, Romulus continued forward. It was becoming startlingly clear that Rome’s supernatural residents cared little for their mortal counterparts in this century.

The thought was forgotten as he rounded a corner and saw the vampire from earlier deliver a paralysing blow to a young woman. Romulus’ gaze turned fatal, but before he could intervene, the drunkard’s frenzied associate wrapped his arms around the magister’s neck and tried to squeeze. “You must be joking,” Romulus seethed, ripping the creature from his back and crushing all seven of his cervical vertebrae in one swift movement. The splintering cracks reverberated through Romulus’ wrist before he sent him hurtling to the ground. The pair weren’t searching for a meal; they were getting off on the torture they inflicted. Looking up, Romulus feared he was too late to save the human. Her screams had gurgled to a stop. Her fingers were as good as feathers as they clawed to be free of the monster latched on her throat. 

Although he once ruled that no magical life should be taken, Romulus had become increasingly apathetic toward this decree in recent years. He appeared behind the woman’s attacker in a flash, reaching past his spine to grasp the dead heart within. The heir of Mars wasn’t the humans’ closest ally, but he’d be damned if he stood by and watched a couple of thugs tear apart a girl who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

As the empty figure crumpled, the woman nearly followed suit. He didn’t have time to wipe the blood from his hands before he caught her on one knee. “Can you hear me?” Romulus asked, tipping her face toward him. The wound on her neck was jagged, and hot liquid began to cover them both. “I need you to drink this,” he whispered, biting into his own wrist before pressing it gently to her mouth. 

[elijahmikaelsom]

[romulusmarius]

praetorleal​:

Delight fills Cloe at the confirmation, thoughts racing as she recalls some of the pieces she had wanted to see within the gallery. There is not a shadow of suspicion on her mind at the offer, no paranoia on her eyes as she grins at the man before her. She is years away from having her world shattered, years away from the seeds of suspicion being planted, years away from having to clutch to her idealism by the skin of her teeth even when the world proves her hopes wrong over and over again. Cloe is delighted at the offer, too trusting still, and does not doubt the man before her, does not heed her senses which whisper that he is something beyond what she imagines.

She is far too inexperienced on the supernatural to worry about hidden motives, and it will be years before that changes.

Instead, she is enchanted by the offer, delighting on the kindness. It’s a reassurance for her fully idealistic self, the thought that sometimes people are kind merely for the pleasure of being so. It’s thrilling, because even though inexperienced with the supernatural, she is not inexperienced with humanity and knows that while kindness isn’t rare, it is not common either.

“That makes sense,” she agrees sounding thoughtful. It does fall within her guesses, the implication that he is much older than one would expect. Carefully, she files the information away as she nods at his words. She watches as he slides a few euro across the bar and sends him a last smile before he leaves the bistro. “Of course. Again, thank you for offering!”

Then she watches him leave and focuses back on ordering a quick dinner. She rushes through it, too excited to pace herself, and knowing that she might get lost due to her status as a tourist, heads towards the Palazzo as soon as she is done, stopping only by a bakery in a fit of whimsy (and a tug from her gut) to buy half a dozen sfogliatelle. Cloe makes it to the meeting point with time to spare and is observing the copy of the David with curiosity —  she wonders if she can animate it or something it’s size— when she feels Romi’s presence nearby and turns around to try and find him, waving when she finally does.

⚜︎

Striding across the Piazza della Signoria, Romulus dabbed the corner of his mouth with a handkerchief. A drop of blood bloomed across the silk, indistinguishable against its burgundy hue. Although a killer by design, the ancient vampire largely abstained from hunting. He found those of this kind who succumbed to their predacious nature uncivilised, if not somewhat boring. An air of entitlement generally accompanied creatures with no regard for life. 

There was another reason he chose to feed sparingly. As a mortal being, long before Mars discovered and transformed the twins of legend, Romulus believed he’d mastered control. Only once made immortal did he learn how fine the line between hero and villain truly was. There were periods throughout history that Romulus dismissed honour in favour of debauchery and overconsumption. No one life stands above another… a law that he wrote into existence he broke on more than one occasion. Sometimes in a frenzy of blood, sometimes in defence of another. He was not always the virtuous brother in the years following the Senate’s conception. 

The sun had set, transforming the Renaissance city into a playground for the region’s supernatural inhabitants. He felt them everywhere—dancing in bars, busking in a street quartet, whispering sweet nothings into the ears of guileless humans, walking hand-in-hand with their lovers. Rounding the corner, he spotted Cloe standing in front of the fortified government building, almost eclipsed by the David’s looming shadow. The real sculpture, which stood in the same location until its extended sojourn outside ended, once inspired the courage and freedom of Florence. Romulus never met Michelangelo Buonarroti, a truth he’d regretted since the 16th century. 

“Buona sera,” Romulus smiled. “You made it.” 

“What do we have here?” He questioned, his brows raising in anticipation. He would be lying if he said he didn’t recognise the emblem on the box. “I’m not sure they allow food on the tour… oh wait, it’s my tour.” Gesturing sideways with his head, Romulus steered them towards Piazzale degli Uffizi and a small wooden door. “Are you ready, Cloe?” 

[wae-teeth]

on the second day of clownmas +9/?: Romulus

The man who committed the first vibe check on his own sibling. @romulusmarius

[senatushq]

NAME. Romulus Marius (Romulus)  AGE & BIRTH DATE. 2700+ & 771 BC GENDER & PRONOUNS. Male & He/Him SPECIES. Aspect BLOODLINE. Mars.  OCCUPATION. Magister FACE CLAIM. Daniel Gillies

biography

A prophecy existed from before Romulus was born that he and his brother Remus were destined to bring about an end to the rule of Amulius, the eldest of the vampire magisters. Amulius had already terrorised the supernatural world for centuries when his forces descended on Alba Longa, the twins’ ancient birthplace. Leaving a trail of destruction in their wake, Romulus and Remus were close to death when Mars descended upon them—the original vampire saw that Amulius had grown beyond control and sired the brothers to see the prophecy fulfilled. He blessed the pair, not only as his progeny but as his heirs. Once imbued with the full power of the Mars bloodline, Romulus and Remus were left on the bank of the river Tiber.

Discovered by the druid Draste, who took the form of a wolf, she produced an elixir of enchanted blood that concealed the twins from Amulius and his sireline. From there, Romulus and his brother were reared by the first sovereigns of Alstroemeria, Faustulus and Acca Larentia. The couple created daylight rings for the siblings and swore to fight alongside them with the full weight of their coven. Amulius’ cruelty united them, and they weren’t alone. Lycans, fey, druids, wayward witches, and humans marched under the brothers’ proud banner.

Amulius’ defeat did not come swiftly or without cost. While both sides suffered great losses, the twins sought to rebuild what remained. Remus saw himself, his brother, and the vampires that had fought with them as the rightful rulers of this new territory, but Romulus could not forget those who battled alongside them. Fearing history would repeat itself, the brothers fought not for land, but for their future. In the fiery disagreement, Remus was struck down. Bereaved, Romulus returned to the mountains overlooking the Tiber, the site where they’d been exposed as youths. It was there, around Palatine Hill, he ploughed a furrow to demarcate the future walls of Rome.

Romulus increased the population of his city by offering asylum to supernatural creatures from far and wide. Once established, he sought the assent of the people to become their king and declared the senate to be born. This brought its own set of challenges. While Romulus was an idealist, compulsion was the only thing that kept the senate together in those early days. Romulus was unaware he was even doing it at first. He’d always been charismatic. Others would simply go along with whatever he said, following him faithfully. It was only when he watched a determined eladrin senator acquiesce and change their mind at his behest that he understood his words held a great deal more power than his fellow descendants of Mars.

According to legend, Romulus disappeared in a whirlwind during a violent storm. In truth, he stepped back from the political frontline once anointed Amulius’ successor. Vowing to only interfere when necessary, the magister took great pleasure in exploring the world. In the centuries that passed, he fought in countless wars and revolutions, took many lovers, and strengthened the Mars bloodline.

Octavian’s eventual fall and transformation into a chimera brought Romulus back. With a few simple words he convinced the senate to store the archdruid away in secret. There was a time when the two stood side by side—first in the war against Amulius, then when they defeated the Asphodel Coven at the beginning of the millennium.​​ They were brothers in arms, but Octavian had nearly destroyed the city and Romulus could not risk the archdruid reincarnating and beginning his reign of terror again.

Those who knew him eventually forgot what he looked like, but Romulus was never far away. Now, the magisterium has turned its eye once more upon Rome. A coven vanished, the queen of the fey imprisoned, rumours of Asphodel’s return, dead senators, and his beloved home in shambles… Romulus has returned to restore order once more.

personality

+ diplomatic, valiant, conscientious  – idealistic, verbose, vengeful

played by Izzy. gmt. she/her.

[romulusmarius]

who: @arastirmacii when: last weekend where: the vatican

It was an uncharacteristically balmy evening. Night had barely descended over Saint Peter’s Square, but the city’s historic centre was already buzzing with activity. Festive drums beat over the chatter of hundreds of people who gathered to watch the tree-lighting ceremony. It had been many years since he’d experienced the famed display, and its familiarity was oddly comforting. With a hand in his coat pocket, he walked down the decorated thoroughfare, imagining it as it had been centuries ago.

Romulus’ stroll down memory lane was interrupted when two young vampires were regurgitated from the crowd. Intoxicated, they began to berate him for being in their way. “May I suggest you take a step back?” He warned, his eyes narrowing as their insults became more annoying and less sensical. Finally, growing bored, he interrupted the tirade. “You have made the prodigious mistake of pissing off a magister,” Romulus chided, baffled by their stupidity. The look of terror which engulfed their features was enough to tell him they finally got it. “I promise you both, I won’t be so patient next time. Go and clean yourselves up.” The dismissal landed like an anvil.

Moments later, a trombone almost masked the sound of a women’s distant howl. Romulus was old enough to know the difference between a scream of delight among festivities and the pitch of someone in genuine fear of their life. “Incorrigible…” he muttered, turning back to find and teach them a proper lesson in manners they wouldn’t forget.

[romulusmarius]

R o m u l u s   h a s   r e t u r n e d   t o   r e s t o r e   o r d e r   o n c e   m o r e. 

[romulusmarius]

sethlozano​:

          Seth had been regaled as a god when he was a druid and though it may have been under false pretenses such deluded ego stuck with him throughout the thousands of years he’d been alive. The Mars pedigree, for he believed it to be the unrivaled bloodline of vampires, only aided in spirally Seth further down his path of overwhelming self-confidence. Only few could humble him, his sire… and a magister. His posture straightened and if he had a heart amidst his ageless carcass it may have even increased rapidly, for magisters were legends whom never bothered to come around. They abandoned their post atop of Rome and left the Senate to pick at the pieces that were left, attempting to decipher what was meant of them. Though the magisters had established the rule of the Senate, Seth had rebelled, feverishly, against the idea that vampires needed to be tamed. Though his opinion would not be swayed, even in the presence of Romulus, their presence certainly had a notable effect on him.

          He faltered at the term pathetic, as if he was a Mars vampire in which the magistrates should be proud of, his ego woefully subdued in the moment. Seth attempted to hold face, “Societies come a long way, such aromas used to be the only thing you could smell in the street.” It was barked in return, though it hardly held as much bite as typical, “Have you become a vegetarian in your sabbatical?” Seth attempted to chat as if they were two friends, and not a mere younger Mars to a magistrate. 

“They have indeed,” Romulus mused, examining the other with a look of humour and nonchalance. He’d witnessed the rise and fall of empires and men and watched an industrialised world emerge from centuries of labour and sacrifice. Humans possessed an innate darkness—one he believed should serve to frighten even the most formidable creatures. Able to justify acts of sheer inhumanity, their cruelty was not an accident or an aberration. Yet many garnered his admiration. All deserved a modicum of respect at minimum. 

“My sabbatical?” He repeated incredulously, eyes darkening as he stepped forward. A group of women appeared then, arms slung across each other’s shoulders. Their drunken laughter filled the night air. Taking a deep breath, Romulus paused. For a moment, the two vampires stood opposite each other, and he wondered what his life would’ve looked like had he not been the prodigal heir of their bloodline’s creator. Maybe he'd be the one feeding in the open, grateful the club’s thumping bass muffled his prey’s cries. 

Alone again, Romulus continued. “I engineered the Senate so that the people of Rome would have fair representation. Fey, witches, druids and lycans fought bravely for their freedom. Vampires required rules to reign in their instincts, lest history repeat itself. No one species was to stand above another. Just because I no longer hold the senators’ hands, do not make the prodigious mistake of presuming my influence, or interest for that matter, has waned. Tell me, what is your name?”   

[romulusmarius]

who: @aylacassia​​​ where: just a bite when: early af 

In the dawn, armed with a burning patience, Romulus descended the Spanish Steps. Sounds of cafe chairs being dragged across cobbled stone and the groans of draft horses as their masters hitched tour carriages upon their weary backs filled Piazza di Spagna. Moving through a meandering maze of narrow alleys, he emerged to face an establishment of the night. At this hour, any patrons left wallowing in their depravity would be in possession of a daylight ring. Leaning against the building’s cold exterior, he patiently waited for one to emerge.

“You,” Romulus cooed, grasping a vampire’s shoulder. Cracked blood around the stranger’s lips melted away as he licked them nervously. Whether the magister liked it or not, his kind instinctively knew who they were conversing with. The magic in his own blood was old and potent, once belonging to Mars themselves. Naturally, subtly wasn’t his style. “I would like for you to do me a favour. Find Senator Cassia and request that she meet me at Biblioteca Casanatense. As soon as possible, please.” No compulsion laced his words—Romulus found fear to be an equally efficient motivator. 

Located on Via di Sant’Ignazio, the library was quiet at this hour. Two globes flanked a statue of the human Cardinal Casanate, whose collection of 25,000 books occupied the halls. Tracing a finger along one of the sphere’s gilded equators, a door creaked open in the distance. “In here,” Romulus called. 

[romulusmarius]

praetorleal​:

She had been told of the allure of supernatural creatures, of how vampires and eladrin were beautiful compare, and she hadn’t believed it from far away. Cloe had met the odd supernatural through the years, but rarely up close. First, because she had been a child and the baker had warned her not to, then because she wanted to focus more on her studies before fully exploring her heritage. Now? Now she is in the presence of a beautiful stranger that seemed fully in control, and finally understands what the baker had been warning her about all those years ago.

Cloe keeps her reaction at her new self-awareness short, a brief pause as she takes a long drink of the Negroni with her eyes on the drink to gather herself. Of course, her attempt is thrown out the window when his offer comes and she chokes on her drink in surprise, eyes snapping up to meet Romi’s in shock. It takes her a second to regain her bearings, but when she does she sets the glass on the bar and leans towards Romi with a wide grin.

“A private tour of Uffizi Gallery?” She repeats, a hint of awe on her tone. That alone, tells her that Romi is three things: old, rich and powerful. One has to be, to offer a private tour of the Uffizi Gallery. Just like that, she strikes witch and lycan as his possible species, but she is not quite sure if he is a vampire, druid or eladrin. Perhaps not an eladrin, though, as she was told they tended to stay in the Otherworld.  “I have the Cappelle Medicee as my first stop tomorrow, so I definitely will take you up on that tour if your offer is still on the table.” 

⚜︎

“The one and only,” Romulus grinned, enjoying the mortal’s reaction as the bistro hummed around them. A long time had passed since he’d experienced true joyfulness. It gave him immense satisfaction to witness it fill others. He was not always this way. Below the charming exterior, a hunger lingered. Legend told of a formidable conqueror. His desire for power, for order remained insatiable. 

Romulus had long embodied the role of puppeteer, manipulating the world’s ageless marionettes—vampires from monarchs to leeches. The Magisterium was an elusive collection of powerful beings. Together they operated from above, creating productions ranging from inconsequential to epoch-making. While each member possessed special abilities unique to their bloodline, the Mars heir knew of his effect on others. Compulsion was rarely required to get what he wanted.

“Of course it’s still on the table,” he said with a shrug. “It isn’t such a big deal when you’ve lived somewhere as long as I have. You make friends in interesting places.” Romulus was telling the truth. He frequented the gallery so often that its guards, some of whom shared his atypical diet, turned a blind eye. He rarely noticed the scent of blood nowadays… except Cloe’s was markedly different.

Shaking his head, he slid a few euros across the bar. “I have some errands to run, but should I meet you at the Palazzo Vecchio in an hour? There’s a replica of Michelangelo’s David outside. You can’t miss it.” 

[romulusmarius]

praetorleal​:

The cocktail is on her grasp in seconds and she eyes it curiously, raising it to admire the color as the man offers her an explanation for it, and smiles in delight, imitating his gesture for a toast.

“The more you learn,” Cloe comments as she takes a sip of the drink and hums in delight at the flavor. It’s subtle but there is something undeniably good about it she won’t mind trying again. Cocktails were a fascinating thing, so many of them available in widely different flavors and she couldn’t wait to try them all and learn how to make them. It was one of the things in her wishlist, merely because she found them incredibly interesting. “This is a Negroni, right? I will need remember.”

“It’s a pleasure Romi, you can call me Cloe,” she offers, friendly smile still firmly in place, if not a bit wider and warmer. The company the other offers is cropping to be better than expected, and soon the thoughts of asking about the supernatural world flee her head as she focus instead on enjoying the chat. “It’s my first time in Florence, yes. As to what brings me here?” She hums at the question, eyes wandering around the bar as a finger taps the cocktail’s glass thoughtfully. As her eyes settle back in Romi, she shrugs sheepishly. “History mostly. I love art and I will visit the museums but history has always fascinated me. After all, those who don’t know the past are doomed to repeat it, right?”

Then, a spark of mischief lights her eyes and she sends him a playful grin.

“Although, I won’t mind the other two either, if I happen to find them. Florence is a wonderful place to fall in love in and to eat good food,” she says with a small wink. “Any recommendations on which places to add to my itinerary?” 

“Cloe…” Romulus repeated, the name rolling off his tongue. Observing her as she talked, he tipped the remainder of his drink back before the ice could dilute it further. “Indeed, it’s a Negroni made by Florence’s best.” Alcohol had no effect on the vampire, but he was a habitual creature and enjoyed basking in his anonymity. What better place to do so than a bar overlooking the Arno as it continued westward past Empoli and Pisa to the sea? 

It was evident that his new companion possessed the same jovial innocence as others her age. It was endearing, albeit predictable. Romulus himself could hardly remember the first two decades of his life. After he was turned, his human memories became a muddy constellation of war and destruction destined to be eclipsed by three millennia worth of experiences. 

Those who don’t know the past are doomed to repeat it. 

A sly smile tugged at the edge of his lips. “Truer words were never spoken. If history is your first love, you should visit the Cappelle Medicee. Personally, I find the tombs of the Medici family far more beautiful than the inside the great Duomo. You can enjoy that from the outside for free… preferably with a side of Tuscan saffron gelato. Alternatively, you could meet me outside the Uffizi Gallery for a private tour later.” 

[romulusmarius]

praetorleal​:

Fall had made the already beautiful city breathtaking. Cloe had expected as much, when she had planned to spend a long weekend exploring the city’s sights and cuisine, but no expectation could measure up the truth once she had set foot upon the streets of Florence. She had plans for her weekend, itineraries written under the patient gaze of her new Italian friends, things she just had to do or that she couldn’t miss, but most of them could wait for tomorrow. She had class that morning and chosen to travel right after so that she could maximize her time in the city, and she is hungry. Luckily, she had been recommended a bistro near her hostel, so there was no need to stumble around looking for good food. Instead, she had done a short work of dropping her bags on the hostel and made her way towards Antonio’s, a pep on her step at the prospect of spending her time after lunch exploring the area around them.

 It’s that excitement that leads her to ignore the little pull on her gut — the same pull that she would later, much later, learn to recognize as a warning from her clairvoyance —  and the faint feeling of something other that reaches her from even outside the small bistro. It’s not until she is sitting on an open stool that she realizes that it’s not the atmosphere bistro that seems magical, but the man offering her a drink. Cloe has yet to meet the wide variety of supernaturals, so she can’t identify the fact that she is in presence of a vampire, or rather something beyond a vampire. All she knows is that he seems sincere, and while her gut tugs at her it does not tell her to be afraid. All she knows is what the baker told her, that unless her skin is broken most supernaturals won’t be able to identify her as a faiman. And well, curiosity is a vice of hers, and so is an unfailing kindness that will not be twisted even by tragedy.

“Yes, a drink would be lovely, thank you for the offer,” she says, Italian fluid if accented by both her fluency in Spanish and English. The smile she offers him is sincere, even as curiosity shines on her eyes. She has yet to meet many members of the supernatural community, after all. “I love trying new things, and what better time to do so than when visiting Florence?”

⚜︎

“My pleasure.” Romulus smiled and nudged the second cocktail across the bar. The woman’s American accent was barely detectable—a detail that would placate the city’s less tolerant vendors. “Did you know the red hue comes from a natural dye called carmine, which is extracted from dried beetles?” His grin grew as he raised the glass. “Salute.” 

Unlike many of his kind, Romulus relished the company of strangers. After trialling a period of solitude from the 6th to the 7th century AD, he concluded that a life devoid of human interaction devolved into a mush of undifferentiated banality. He found most of them intriguing, beautiful even. Everything a human valued only made sense because their time on earth was finite. 

“My name is Romi. This is your first time visiting Florence, yes?” Like hers, his manner of speaking wasn’t native to a singular locality. Centuries spent inhabiting different countries, from Australia to Zambia, had culminated in a smooth baritone. “What brings you to the birthplace of the Renaissance? Art? Exemplary cuisine? Love?” He questioned, relaxing into the chair. 

[romulusmarius]

sethlozano​:

          for @senatusstarters​, open:           where: behind in vein or just a bite, behind any vampy-owned place tbh

          The Senate’s control over Rome seemed to further seize up following the collateral of Halloween, Marshal’s further patrolling the streets, extensively scouring for a blood coven which they’d never be damned to find unless prompted by said coven. It was a pathetic dance for control in which the Senate seemed to be thrashing around akin to a fish out of water and Seth, consistent in toeing the line, was defiant, always just on the precipice of breaking their rules. Long ago was the time in which vampires ruled, now they were pathetically defanged and he scoffed at their petulant need to further reign in the species of Rome as if they had not once ruled over mere mortals. Now, it seemed they would do everything to protect them, even if it meant placing their own on the pyre.

          He’d sensed someone coming around the bend, fangs deep in the neck of a live subject for why should they ever have to live off of putrid blood bags? No matter how he toed the line of puerile anarchy, he still dropped his dinner as the other rounded the corner, shooting whoever it was a stern glower as the innocent life he’d almost snuffed out scrambled away and out of sight, “And how are you going to repay me for losing my dinner?” Dinner, next project to be initiated into the Mars bloodline, Seth hadn’t been quite sure before his fun had been spoiled.

Hardened locals ruled the eternal city’s streets at this hour. Lined faces, barely illuminated by the glow of their cigarettes, lingered below primeval archways. Others gathered over a caffè corretto and a deck of cards. For a fleeting moment, Romulus envied them. Courtesy of the Amaranthus, Rome’s human citizens possessed no memory of horrors just gone. He had only begun to learn the extent of what transpired, having just come from the Palace of Pluto after touching down at FCO. 

Passing a row of bars, clubs, and adult stores, the magister ducked through an open gate and onto a cobbled alleyway. More than a century had passed since he’d last stepped foot here, but the hidden shortcuts remained the same. Wrinkling his nose, Romulus turned a corner in time to watch a stranger’s prey flee into the night. “You know, the scent of blood is a complex stimulus. It involves both the blood itself, as well as its reaction with surrounding substances.” Crossing his arms, he leant against a damp pillar before continuing, “For instance, your dinner smells of vomit and piss.” Recognising another Mars vampire, Romulus chuckled. “How pathetic.” 

[romulusmarius]

who: @praetorleal

where: florence 

when: autumn 2014

Romulus entered the Florentine bistro, arm strewn over the shoulders of his human date. “Buona sera!” he called to the tattooed bartender, who smiled and thrust a beer to the heavens in silent greeting. Laughter engulfed the intimate space—leather-skinned locals mingled with tourists who’d stumbled in off Via de’ Bardi looking for a quintessential Italian aperitif to Instagram. All were welcome at Antonio’s. “Due Negroni signore, grazie.” Propping his elbow on the marble countertop, Romulus turned to face the woman when her phone chimed. In the next moment, in a flurry of apologies and pleas to reschedule, she was out of the door. The magister didn’t give a fuck what species a person belonged to as long as they were interesting company. Shrugging, he picked up his icy tumbler when a stranger occupied the stool beside him. “Good evening,” he said, without hesitation, “care for a drink?” 

[romulusmarius]

who: @amalasingh

where: palace of pluto 

when: late 

Six centuries before the reckoned year of the birth of Christ, Romulus gathered the supernatural citizens of Rome in the Comitium, a place of political assembly on the north side of the Forum and declared that all magical life was sacred. This early credence forbid the Senate from conducting executions, but no matter his power, Romulus could not stave off Death for long. Crossing the littered remains of Pluto’s outer courtyard almost three millennia on, it was clear that neither could his vampire brethren. 

Met by a chauffeur at Fiumicino Airport, Romulus had travelled straight to the site of the recent massacre, bypassing his medieval home in the city centre. Running a hand through his messy hair, a frown transformed the magister’s usual jovial appearance. Gothic towers cast a long shadow over the disturbed ground, but the scent of rotting flesh was not so easily obscured. 

His return to Rome was overdue. Several events now warranted closer inspection, including the disappearance of the Alstroemeria Coven. He’d genuinely believed the Senate would capture those responsible without magisterial intervention. Guilt nagged the edge of his ancient conscious—he swore to protect Faustulus and Acca Larentia’s ancestors, and failed.

Coming to rest on his heels, the vampire gently pressed his fingertips into the stained stone. There was enough blood here to fill a person thrice over. Sensing someone approach, he stood to face the palace. “Amala, I presume?”