Memories were a fleeting thing when you were left on the ground to bleed out like an animal to the slaughter, and while most would have succumbed to their wounds and allow Morta to cut the strings of life that tethered the spirit and soul to the human planes, Camilla was no ordinary woman and she clung to life stubbornly even as her husband walked around her and further into the villa. How long Mila lay there she was uncertain, but she knew that as she grew cold there were whispers that moved through the villa like snakes through leaves, and an ethereal fog seemed to drift through the area. Someone called to her. At first she thought perhaps her mother, but pain had suddenly struck, a hook of life pulling her away from that plane of spirit and back into the one of reality. A harsh gasp escaped ravaged body, though it was probably closer to a gurgling sound as her throat had been split open. He had tried to murder her after beating her within an inch of her life and he had cut her throat in an effort to ensure that it would be done with once and for all, it should have worked. She should have died. Instead Camilla was looking up into the face of an extremely furious man whom most would shake with fear if they saw. Not Mila though. Bloodstained fingers had touched his face sending a smear of scarlet across his cheek. It had startled him, a man whom was stoic in the face of most things, he was barking orders suddenly, at least… she thought he was, she couldn’t really hear anymore, or maybe it was because there was an annoying buzzing in her ears, one that surely kept her clinging to life. Was she that bad off? She had no idea really.
What she did remember was blackness, voices as she struggled in and out of consciousness. They had loaded her up on a litter and had taken her away from that villa. That villa would likely remain empty for the rest of its days. There was no telling how long she lay drifting in and out of consciousness. Camilla had been feverish, weak and had been drained of a quite an amount of blood. Occasionally she would wake and have a clear moment but it was touch and go for a few weeks. It took some time before she could even stay awake long enough to eat anything that hadn’t been forcefully trickled down her healing throat. The gash that would forever mar once perfect skin was like an angry red welt that seemed too remained bruised and discolored. It was found that she couldn’t walk well as she had lain for so long and her legs simply could not support her. She needed to become stronger again. The most frustrating thing for Camilla though was the fact that she couldn’t speak. If she did while healing she may never regain her voice again and that was perhaps extremely devastating to the woman. Music had been her life for as long as she could remember and suddenly not being able to sing… it was troublesome. Still, she had been informed that she would perhaps be able to use her voice if she just let her body rest and heal. So that’s what she would do.
Her first public outing had been one to watch fights. As a young child this was routine but she hadn’t really found bloodshed interesting. Something about it had made her queasy as a child and her father had indulged her by letting her skip out on them in favor of studying her music or philosophy instead. This public appearance though had been for her. There had been punishments dealt out while she had struggled to cling to life, but one had been saved specifically for her to view. The male had come stumbling out of the gates, his armor ill fitting and his walk not that of a warrior, but more of a spoiled man. A man who was used to getting his way, and getting away with things. The gods did not smile down upon him though and justice was to be dealt in the arena. If her husband wished to live, he would have to fight and pray that the gods granted him their favor. If not, death would seek him out should none care to spare his life and in this house such a thing would be rare. Perhaps to add insult to injury he was pitted against the strong gladiator women of the ludus. He stood no chance even against women and it as only a matter of time before he was brought before those watching to beg for his life due to his defeat. The question was asked and those around wondered if she was capable of giving such an order. Live or die. Camilla had always been a kinder, more whimsical sort. Yet that day… her head had shook subtly. There would be no life for this one. Death would be his, much like he had left her bleeding on the ground, he too would understand and feel what she did. Only there would be no one to save him.
Now would be Camilla’s second public appearance outside of her rooms during the day… word had reached her that Adrastia had come home and Camilla wished to see the young woman. She had spent years writing to her niece and would have opened her home to her if she had been able too. The girl possibly knew Camilla’s pain before any other as she had confided in her often through letters. Now that her niece was here Camilla found that she wanted to see her and had summoned a slave to help her to where Adra was. To have a litter brought to her would take far too long and be too cumbersome. She refused to be carried right now, a stubbornness in the young woman forcing her to move slowly through the villa. She had to get stronger, she had to get those legs working properly again. Each step was painful as she was working muscles that did not want to work anymore but she grit those teeth, brows knitting as the nameless slave was gripped onto as if a human crutch. It had taken her longer to get there and she had made it in towards the end of Adra’s punishment on the boy hanging. Her breathing was labored and a thin sheen of sweat had dotted that forehead. Mouth had opened because she wanted to desperately to call out to the girl whom had her back facing her, but she just could not make a sound. Rather she leaned heavily against a wall, a light shooing towards the one who had helped her here to let them know she would be alright for now, of course he hovered near by just in case her legs gave out. How long she would stay on her feet was unknown but she had… had to see Adra. Would her niece recognize her?
For a moment Camilla stayed against the wall as if she were holding it up but a look of determination crossed her features and she’d inched forward. On her own! It hadn’t been a full step but… another step. Still… the entire group was so far away… at least it felt like it. A few stares had been turned in her direction as Mila rarely left her rooms while she was recovering and walking anywhere had been quite out of the question. Yet here she was trying her damndest to walk towards her niece, towards that group of people in that semi-circle. It was all fine and dandy till she reached the end of the wall, and now had to actually walk closer to the group with no help. A moment of panic hit her. What if she fell? No, no the one with her would catch her before that happened right? She would attempt this. She would make it to that silly gaggle of people if it killed her! One step, two step, three step… and then her legs gave out.
