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| April 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Nov 5 2009, 10:37 PM (3,973 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 05:15 PM Post #181 |
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Author: Lancelot Date: Mon Apr 14, 2008 6:58 pm Lancelot
Lancelot looked up from watching Neeve clean Arthur's wound. "Goodness. Did someone just agree with me? A banner day. You should take a cue, commander." He made an innocent face at Arthur, crossing his arms. He then immediately uncrossed them, wincing as the drying skin and blood pulled at his wound.
Lancelot met Arthur's eyes, his expression light, but he pursed his lips, an I told you so tickling his tongue - but he exercised major restraint and said nothing.
Your lady. Perhaps Lancelot shouldn't have used that exact term - but it was the truth. Lancelot could not give Arthur what the man would eventually want - a home, stability, and children - not that Lancelot wanted any of those things. But, like anyone who lived this type of life, he wanted for loyalty, friendship - and yes, perhaps a love of his own. He looked at the Roman's eyes, cloudy and distant now from pain, and wondered...and wondered if he might be better off as the lothario and rake he had made sure people thought he was. He grumbled at Neeve, rolling his eyes at her tone, but took the bowl and cloth from her, and applied the herbal remedy to his own wound as he keep eagle-eyes on Arthur. He didn't dare look at Darya, for fear that the devotion and love he saw between his kinswoman and his commander might make him say something he regretted. He pressed the medicine soaked cloth to his arm, his oddly white stomach muscles (well, he did spend a lot of time in armor) clenching in sympathy as Neeve pierced Arthur's skin with her needle and thread.
Lancelot was becoming an expert at rolling his eyes, especially around Arthur. "And if you think I'm scared of you, you have another thing coming, old man." He flashed a quick, dirty grin at Arthur, and continued to watch the sewing, remembering to keep the cloth on his own wound.
Lancelot laughed, albeit with a crazed sound to his voice. "They are very smart women, my friend. Especially for agreeing with me. They would be foolish not to." He winked at Neeve, ready for the retort that would surely come from her sometimes sharp tongue. He would have to catch her later and thank her for being prompt, and good at what she did. Perhaps a drink....he'd have to think on it. The dark haired healer was pretty, and it had been rather too long since Lancelot had had any agreeable company. Or at least company who had not thrown find yourself another whore for the night at him. He looked at Arthur again, who was holding up rather well, despite the pain he was in. Lancelot finished mopping up his arrow hole with the herbs Neeve had given him, and tossed the dirtied cloth to the side. He ripped a piece of fabric off his now dessicated tunic, and using his teeth, tied a strip of relatively clean linen around the wound. "That will do for now," he announced to anyone who cared, and, fishing in Arthur's clean laundry pile again, pulled one of the commander's tunics over his own head. It hung to mid thigh, and swallowed him, giving him the appearance of a child wearing his father's things. The pale skin and black pits of exhaustion under Lancelot's eyes did not help matters.
Lancelot dragged a stool to Arthur's side, sitting heavily but out of the way of Neeve so she could work unimpeded. He reached out a hand without thinking, but his eyes strayed to where Darya held Arthur's hand in her own...and he dropped his back to his lap. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 05:17 PM Post #182 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Mon Apr 14, 2008 7:35 pm Tristan
By all the Gods...that was even worse. The scout regretted immediately telling Neeria his name, for she began to roll it around her mouth, trying out various different pronunciations of it in an effort to get it just right- apparently the sound of it was rather strange to Woad ears. Tristan actually felt his cheeks grow hot as she continued to blabber it, and just outside the open cell door, the guard was now having paroxysms of silent laughter, leaning against the wall and holding his stomach in mirth. Damn it! Tristan wanted to punch the bastard in the face. "No," he growled savagely at Neeria, bending once more and wrenching both her hands away from him at the same time, more roughly now. He stepped back swiftly the second he was free; his instinct was all to draw a knife or some other weapon, but his rational mind reminded him just in time that that was not necessary, at least not yet- and that this creature was not to be harmed. She was an enemy still, though- a deadly enemy, and hardly deserving of as little consideration as he had given her. Tristan backed up another step to the cell door, standing with his back to the opening, breathing, inexplcably, a little hard. "You tried to kill my Commander," he nearly continued, in a voice so soft as to almost be a whisper, fierce with hatred of her and all Woads. They were vile animals, devils. "You should be dead," he concluded with heartless finality, turning and leaving the cell in a swift motion, slamming the heavy door behind him. If she did indeed expire before morning, it would be a good thing, he told himself- keep Arthur from going on any more wild goose chases. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 05:17 PM Post #183 |
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Author: Starbelle Date: Mon Apr 14, 2008 8:03 pm Jols After retrieving the saddlebags up off of the ground, and tossing them over his shoulder as well as grabbing the swords he decided would do better under the expert care of the smithy than himself, Jols headed out of the stable on his missions. Dropping the weapons off with an apprentice telling him that it was very important the head smithy looked at them after the battle that the knights' had been in and handed the young boy a coin in return for doing so. Heading over to a private room, the squire saw the second part of his mission resting in an alcove. (Editor's note: this is an uncorrected error; Linnette is actually walking down the corridor of the knights' quarters.) Clearing his throat, Jols headed further in and sat down on the bench placing the bags down next to his feet and reaching over, placed his hand on her shoulder gently shaking her. "Pardon me for disturbing your rest, lady, but I think that these belong to you." Jols said in a voice he normally used for calming the very skittish horses. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 05:18 PM Post #184 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Mon Apr 14, 2008 8:17 pm Ione Ione thanked the young man for his information concerning Adian not returning on Wogan. To have the horse arrive here unmanned was odd not to mention just plain scary. The stable hand finished grooming the big black horse, then went off to finish his duties before he could go to his quarters and sleep. Ione stood there for a moment to catch her breath as she just felt totally exhausted when it was just like the work she had done when she had first been able to move about Badon Hill. Now, with Arthur's revelation that she was a civilian like everyone else at the fort and was here under his protection, it made her feel better about how she saw herself around the fort... The Weaver's shop. She had to get back to it to clean up the mess left there by the woads. Seeing that a lot of the work was done, Ione went back over to Tarik to make sure she had her blanket on to keep her warm. Looking over to where Tristan had made a choice of a new horse which he had groomed, and taken care of for the night, she saw Mirtha looking her way with an odd look in his eyes. She averted her eyes, and looked down at Javier's family ring he had placed on her finger. Ione looked outside and saw the snow lightly falling outside, and it was getting dark. Her dark eyes watched Tristan leave as she went to get her cloak from the hook nearby. Catching Mirtha's glance once more, she hooked the clasp, and made her way to the door of the stable... |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 05:19 PM Post #185 |
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Author: linnet Date: Mon Apr 14, 2008 8:24 pm Juna After she had spent time with all those wounded who had been treated earlier and needed a second visit, Juna returned to her shelter. She knew there may have been a few injured who had received no help at all yet, but she deliberately chose to leave them so as to keep Lourdes occupied as long as possible. Besides, Juna was so drained and numb from the hours of intense work, that she thought her help now might be ineffective. Merlin had not returned yet. She took her supplies into the shelter and grabbed a blanket from her little cot. Wrapping it around herself and crossing her arms over her chest to hold it closed, she went back outside. She leaned her tired body back against a wooden support at the front of her shelter. The flickering light of one of the campfires let her see Lourdes silhouetted, still helping Woads. Sounds of quiet conversations among Merlin’s people accompanied the crackling of the fires. Juna looked up at the vast sky. The moon and most of the stars were hidden by low clouds. A few white flakes touched her face and decorated her dark hair. She felt utterly alone, and her thoughts drifted to Adian. Last night with him had shown her that there could be something better than being alone and closed to human contact. It had felt good to connect to another human being, to talk, to relax and let go of her cold detachment. But how does one make that happen after spending so many years totally self contained? She was able to save people’s lives, but had no connection to them otherwise. She didn’t know them, their histories, their personalities, their family stories, their hopes or talents. She had no friends. None. And she had not wanted any. Merlin was the only person she had cared about. Now alone in the night, she felt almost sick, because she had no faith that she would be able to change. She thought about approaching one of the groups gathered around a fire, but unless it was as a healer doing her job, it seemed impossible. When a woman walked past where Juna stood, she tested herself by saying “Good evening”, and smiling. But the Woad gave her a quick sideways look of confusion and kept walking. Juna didn’t blame her though, as she probably looked strange just standing out in the cold alone, and it didn’t help that she didn’t know the woman’s name. It was then that she saw Merlin and Guinevere return. They met with Connell, Guinevere left, and someone approached Merlin to talk. Juna just watched Merlin from where she stood. Watching him had been one of her most familiar occupations for fifteen years, and it felt better than trying to figure out how to change her life. Besides, he looked every bit as magnificent to her now as he had all those years ago. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 05:22 PM Post #186 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Mon Apr 14, 2008 8:25 pm Linnette
"Mmm?" At the sound of the man's voice, clearly addressed to her, Linnette blinked and looked up. Tears still made damp tracks on her cheeks, her eyes felt swollen, and it felt strange to look up- as if her whole head was readjusting. Before her stood the squire, Jols, who served as assistant to the knights- and for a moment she could not figure out what he was talking about. What belonged to her? She blinked again, confusedly- then noticed the saddlebags on the floor by his feet, which he must have set down when he addressed her. Saddlebags. Gedeon's saddlebags. Tears sprang to her eyes again. His things were inside. Spare clothes, spare knife, the dried meat he always carried with him for an impromptu snack...she knew what would be in there without even looking. But the thought of looking right now was unbearable. "Oh, could you..." her words were interrupted with a sniff, a desperate one as she once again fought the urge to cry in front of someone else. "Could you take them over to our room? It's here." Her words were soft and choked in tears now, but she stepped forward and pointed the way to the room she had shared with Gedeon. It was not far- though she had not been planning to stop there before the chapel. Once again, the thought of it, empty and cold and without Gedeon, made her heart ache. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 05:23 PM Post #187 |
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Author: Starbelle Date: Mon Apr 14, 2008 8:28 pm Tatiana Seeing the soldiers head into the tavern, Tatiana decided not to head down to the stables quite yet, turned around and headed back towards the tavern as she'd never seen it in action before and became slightly curious about what went on inside. Her small booted feet made a slight crunching noise in the snow that had gathered in the hallway. Mentally squaring her shoulders, she crossed over the threshold and entered the tavern proper. As her hazel eyes took in the action, she made sure to stay out of the way of the serving girls. Seeing Vanora, Tatiana nodded to her, but didn't speak. Tossing her head like a spirited filly caused her long coppery hair to rest over one shoulder. "Greetings, sir soldiers. Lovely weather we're having hmm?" She said in a friendly voice to them a grin appearing on her face. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 05:24 PM Post #188 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Mon Apr 14, 2008 10:03 pm Neeria Neeria clung to Tristan as though her life depended on it because in her mind, it did. She felt that if she could hold onto Tristan, she would be holding onto life itself.
Tristan snarled and roughly snatched Neeria's hands from around his legs. Once again, panic struck the prisoner. She knew she'd be plunged into solitary darkness again. This time though, she didn't struggle. Neeria resigned herself to her fate. Perhaps death would come to her swiftly. She did not try to stop Tristan when he backed away from her and stared at her like she was a crazed animal. Neither did she flail and scream and cry for him to stay. Instead, she wrapped the blanket around her tightly and leaned back against the wall. Tristan backed up another step to the cell door and stood with his back to the opening. The angry scout spoke just above a whisper.
Neeria shouted out to him, just as he slammed the cell door. "My hatred is not for you, Sarmatian. Triiis-tan." The woad's voice cracked. "Good bye. Thank you." Then she laid her head back down on the dirty straw and waited to die. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 05:27 PM Post #189 |
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Author: sabor ice Date: Mon Apr 14, 2008 10:43 pm Alina The hour had grown late by time Alina had finished with her ministrations of Galahad's wounds. He would possibly need stitching at some point, and surely fresh bandages by morning - and like it or not, he'd have to come to the infirmary with her in order to get properly treated - but for now, Alina let Galahad have some uninterrupted and well-deserved rest. She was quiet as she went to fetch some fresh water for the basin, cleaned up a bit, and then changed into a fresh dress - light blue in color. Afterward, Alina found herself keeping vigil over Galahad, laying beside him in bed and watching the rise and fall of his bare chest as he soundly slept. She could've done so all night, as happy as she was that he had returned alive, but the silence (save for Galahad's snoring), was beginning to intimidate her, taunt her. It allowed time for her mind to wander and to points of origin in which she'd rather not loiter. So, with no chance for slumber in sight, nor peace of mind, Alina drew herself up from bed, donned on her cloak, and silently slipped from the room. The night seemed colder than usual, filled with evanescent dreams and an inexplicable listlessness. Alina walked as one condemned, dazedly and with heavy, wallowing footsteps. By time she had entered the tavern, her torn thoughts had retreated back into the dark corners of her mind. The fresh air had done her at least some good, and now she would find solace in the most constant thing in her life - food. Alina had not paid too much heed to whoever was in the tavern - although she had seen Vanora and another woman busy near the table of two soldiers on her way in - and promptly went to speak with a passing wench to place her order - stew for herself, and a bundle of an assortment of whatever was available to take with her later for Galahad. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 05:35 PM Post #190 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Tue Apr 15, 2008 6:41 am Tristan
Her voice echoed to him through the now closed door, thanking him, absolving him, taunting him. Tristan whirled again on the laughing guard, this time seizing him by the collar and practically throwing him up against the wall opposite Neeria's cell. "I told you to get her a healer. Do it!" he growled in the guard's face, which was still relaxing from its idiotic smile as the man realized that Tristan was not amused at all- in fact very angry indeed. "All right, all right," the man stammered, holding up his hands in a conciliatory gesture, his eyes now wide with surprise that the scout was taking this all so seriously. Tristan slowly let his fingers relax, finally releasing the guard, who scuttled off after a messenger again- but he felt utterly tormented inside. Neeria's near-worship of him was a mockery- it made him feel ashamed of things he could not even articulate. He wished she were dead. He wished he had never seen her at all. He wished he had not given in to sentimentality and brought her the damn blanket- but he had, and now she would remember it, and think it was done out of kindness. It was not. His body tight with barely contained anger, Tristan stalked out of the dungeons, not even waiting around to see if a healer was indeed fetched, despite his growling instructions to the guard. He shouldn't have done that- shouldn't have shoved the man up against the wall like that. If the guard chose to raise a stink about it, it might result in punishment- some latrine duty, perhaps, or something else unsavory. Tristan didn't care. One dealt with these things when one had no choice. The cold air outside calmed him a bit. Tristan took deep lungfuls of it as he crossed the courtyard, willing his body to relax, his mind to let go of that disturbing experience. By the time he pushed open the tavern door and let himself in to the noisy, ale-smelling warmth, he was in a slightly better mood, though still by no means mellow. He caught a wench by the elbow, appropriated a mug off her tray, and retired to a corner table, where he position himself with his back to the wall and his feet propped up before him, scanning the room and wondering if that blonde wench he had noticed earlier in the courtyard happened to be available. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 05:36 PM Post #191 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Tue Apr 15, 2008 7:26 am Malcus Barbattus The commander spooned the last of of the stew into his mouth and belched loudly. He patted his fully belly and smiled. The spirit of the spiced wine was catching up with him and Barbattus was feeling quite well after a long, tiring day. There was only one more thing left that he wanted...no, needed...to do and that was to satisfy the increasing pull of his groin. Malcus outwardly smiled at the thought, remembering his previous negotiations with the plump wench.
Malcus rolled his eyes upward and stared at Brendyn, his head spinning just a little bit. "Are you daft, boy?" the commander yelled. "Didn't I just tell you the rules? What the fu..." "Uh...the rotation schedules are posted by each squad commander in the barracks, Brendyn. Commander Barbattus does not bother himself with such trivialties once he has created the rosters. The commander will send word to you if/when he is ready to see you," Titrus interjected nervously, watching Barbattus' internal volcano slowly errupting. Titrus knew the commander well. "Good night, Brendyn," the lieutenant added with a nod of his head and a shag of his brows toward the tavern exit. Barbattus was about to unleash the hounds of hell onto Brendyn but stopped short when he spotted Alina walk into the tavern. I remember her, he thought to himself. "Go," Barbattus said to Brendyn, forgetting his anger and remembering his lust. Malcus stood up, never taking his eyes off of Alina, and stretched his long legs. He was only mildly affected by the wine therefore still in full control of himself. The commander walked over to Alina and locked onto her with his dark, penetrating eyes. He got close enough to her to smell the berry juice in her hair. "It's been a while," Malcus said softly in her ear. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 05:37 PM Post #192 |
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Author: Kay Date: Tue Apr 15, 2008 8:02 am Grace Grace opened the door to her home and peered out at the night's sky. The moon and stars were hidden by thick swathes of cloud and lazy snowflakes meandered down to dust the ground. Her mother was sleeping now; the medicine had done its job;and her sister was curled up asleep on her pallet. Grace closed the door again and walked across to the small fire burning in the hearth; she stretched out her hands to warm them. She was exhausted and her nerves still jangled from her encounter with the man and his warhorse. Tomorrow she would have to work on their stall with her sister; their mother would not be fit enough to do the job. Grace swallowed nervously. She hated the world outside this little dwelling and even the thought of venturing out again, filled her with dread. How pathetic I am, she thought, angrily. She undressed slowly and laid down on her pallet in the corner of the room; when sleep finally came, it was filled with dreams of snarling, bloodied men on white horses. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 05:38 PM Post #193 |
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Author: Darya Date: Tue Apr 15, 2008 10:39 am Neeve & Darya Crystal-blue eyes sparkled when Arthur supported her order for the First Knight and then shifted from the Sarmatian to the Commander…then to his lady. Neeve was pretty sure that the other woman in the room was not Roman…and her accent told the healer that she was not British either. Thus she could not help but secretly wonder how those two had met in the first place… However, that Lancelot as well as this Darya agreed with one another and with her on where their Commander would stay for a while made things way easier for Neeve. Not that she would not do anything in her powers to make Arthur stay where he was even when the other two had not shared this opinion…
If the situation had not been so serious and frightening for her, Darya would certainly have commented on those words…but right now, the dark-haired just shot a sharp glance at her fellow Sarmatian and remained silent, listening to the conversation between the other persons in the room, still gently holding Arthur’s hand in hers.
While Darya frowned at Lancelot’s words, Neeve looked up to meet the knight’s gaze. She pursed her lips as he winked at her and shook her head in amusement. “Just do not pride yourself on this, Lancelot…”, the raven-haired then stated in an almost challenging tone while granting herself a moment to assess the man a bit closer. At least he was doing what she had asked him to do and applied some of the scouring rush to his injury…then even created some kind of makeshift bandage. “And we’ll get back on this later, won’t we?”, she added with a nod towards Lancelot’s wound, which now at least did not bleed anymore… Then Arthur had all her attention. “And I would not call it conspiring…”, Neeve stated and slightly arched an eyebrow at the Roman, “…we care for you, Commander…” And with that the Briton began her work with the needle…
Neeve smirked slightly but kept her gaze focused on her task at hand. “You have not seen me being not gentle yet, Arthur…”, the healer replied and sniffed briefly in concentration, “…you should be grateful for that.” Then she licked her lips and once again shut out the world around her…only her hands, the needle and her patient’s injury were relevant now… When the healer began to stitch Arthur’s wound, Darya grimaced visibly when the needle poked her lover’s sore skin again and again… She squirmed on her chair for a moment, remembering clearly how Isolde had stitched the injury at her hip after the first Woad attack the other day. Her hands tensed slightly about Arthur’s and squeezed the Roman’s hand gently…compassionately. “It’s almost done…”, she whispered to the Roman and attempted an assuring smile…which did not quite reach her eyes. Blowing a strand of hair out of her face, Neeve worked quickly, yet accurate…wanting to end the procedure as soon as possible…for the Commander’s sake. He was the last person she wanted to torment with the needle longer than necessary. And then the last stitch was done…the wound sewed up clean and properly. The Briton blindly reached for a new clean cloth and carefully dabbed it along the fresh suture…mopping up a bit of blood as she did so. A fresh herbal paste to soothe the skin and clean bandages…then the Commander would need a lot of rest. Straightening her back, the Briton glanced at her patient. “How are you holding up, Commander?”, she asked, already pondering which herbs to use for the paste… |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 05:40 PM Post #194 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Tue Apr 15, 2008 10:52 am Derfel Derfel had watched Linnette go with apprehensive eyes, but he could hardly force her to stay. Her rather dark remark – or promise as it were – about not throwing herself from the ramparts had been difficult to hear. And quite frankly, had Derfel that much more concerned for Linnette’s safety. He prayed that she would not do anything rash or foolish in her current state of shock and mourning. Again, he thought to go after Linnette….but from behind, Derfel could hear Linnesse stir on the bed. Torn between his sense of honor (and bound by the oath he’d made Dagonet to look after Linnette) and the overpowering need to hold Linnesse again had Derfel’s head aching. He slowly shut the door and then turned back towards the bed; a smile graced his weary features despite the turmoil of emotions in his heart.
“Luv, we both know how strong your sister is…and we will look after her,” Derfel reassured Linnesse as he came to sit on the edge of the bed. He reached up and smoothed a hand over her soft buttery hair and then leaned in to sweetly kiss her lips. “I missed you,” Derfel whispered breathily against Linnesse’s soft lips; closing his eyes and simply inhaling her scent. “I….so much has happened that I….just don’t know where to start….I love you,” He continued quietly while lightly nudging his nose against hers. Derfel slid both arms around Linnesse’s shoulders and proceeded to place small affectionate kisses across her brow. Thank the gods she was safe….but he wanted to know what had happened to her, this sickness she’d suffered in his absence. “You are better now? Hm?” Derfel murmured while pulling back enough to look at Linnesse’s beautiful face. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 05:44 PM Post #195 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Tue Apr 15, 2008 1:09 pm Linnesse
"Love you too. And you smell wonderful now," Linnesse murmurred tenderly, accepting his kisses as she scattered her own over his cheek wherever she could reach- well, those reach without too much effort, admittedly. The tiredness throughout her body still weighed her down, though Derfel's attentions made it much more pleasant. She took a deep breath of his now-clean masculine scent as he pulled away slightly- she had never thought of that particular detail of having him around, but come to find out, she missed it a lot!
"Mmmmhmmm." Linnesse smiled at him and snugged her arm over to his waist, resting it there on his waistband, bringing them closer together in a comfortable, contented embrace. "There was a fever- it started just after you left. A few died, but most recovered. I must have caught it from the patients. Linnette hardly left my side." Linnesse shrugged, a troubled shadow passing over her face- it was a sad thing, and had been a close thing for her, but still, she didn't want to linger on her illness now. It was over, or nearly so, once she had regained some strength, and she suddenly had more important things to think about, much more to be strong for than ever before. And Derfel had told her that he had much to tell her, too... "How did things go for you? How's your leg?" She lifted her small, pale hand up to touch his cheek, just lightly and briefly, before letting her hand rest on his waist again- her body seemed to be half-melted into the soft mattress and Derfel's warmth. Merlin
"And you, Guinevere," Merlin replied fervently, returning his daughter's hug and kiss. She was going into danger again- and though Merlin was very convinced both of the rightness of that cause, and of Guinevere's skill and ability to take care of herself, moments like this were always a bit nerve-wracking. Part of being a parent- one of the gifts of the Gods. Merlin turned to Connell, taking a breath to thank him for his help and wish him a good night, too, before returning to Juna- he could see her, standing just outside the circle of one of the fires over on the other side of the big clearing- when another figure detached itself from the growing shadows under the trees and came towards him. It was Mona, an urgent and determined expression on her face- as if she had just made up her mind to tell him something that had been weighing on her mind.
The Woad leader stiffened on hearing Mona's words. Something about Neeria? It impacted this rescue, then- that much he could easily tell. Merlin turned a little away from Connell- though he did not actually make a move to dismiss him- creating a little privacy for himself and Mona with their shoulders, close together. "Speak," he urged her, in a low voice, his head bent attentively as he listened to what she would say. |
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