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| April 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Nov 5 2009, 10:37 PM (3,964 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | Mar 16 2010, 10:12 PM Post #316 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Thu Apr 24, 2008 7:36 am Malcus Barbattus Malcus looked down at the sniveling man and felt no remorse at all. He deserved the punishment Malcus bestowed upon him. Malcus was quite sure that given another opportunity, the foul guard would keep his dick in his pants and not think of violating anyone again. "Stop your sniveling!" Malcus said angrily, "Your cries for mercy fall on deaf ears. Never betray your duties or me again. Next time, if you so dare sir to do this again, there will be no justice for you, only death." The commander then grabbed a towel and wiped his hands of the man's blood and walked out of the cell. "You're free to go back to the barracks - if you can - but you will report for duty - on time - tomorrow." There was no verbal response, only sobs, coming from the small room. As Barbattus walked down the narrow passageway, Titrus and Lucius entered the dungeons. Both men saluted. Malcus noticed Lucius' pallor but said nothing about it. "Right on time," Barbattus said, "Let's gather the prisoners and get them ready for transport." Barbattus snatched up a blanket that he'd brought along after being told of the naked woad child locked in the farthest cell. He also had leg irons and chains ready for them as well just in case he needed them. Just because they were females meant nothing to the Roman. They were still prisoners. The commander loosed the big ring of keys from around his hip and unlocked the cell holding Neeria. The woman sat in her cell with the blanket pulled around her, staring into space. "She should be no problem," Malcus said to the men then moved a few cell doors down. Stopping at another door, the commander turned around and looked at the two of them. "Titrus, come. You and I will handle this one. She's a child and injured pretty badly but I'm told she's quite wild and very dangerous. I don't want to hurt her but if she's uncontrollable, kill her. Arthur wants the other one alive, but there is no such order for this one." While Lucius tended to Neeria, Barbattus unlocked the cell door and steadied himself to face the wild looking creature that stared at him. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 16 2010, 10:15 PM Post #317 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Thu Apr 24, 2008 10:30 am Arthur
“I will be fine, Darya,” Arthur softly reassured his lover while gently giving her fingers an affectionate squeeze. Darya then took the empty mug from Arthur’s hand while the Roman finally lay back on the bed. The stubborn Roman mostly ignored Neeve’s further comments about taking plenty of time to rest and recover…Arthur had no time for that. But he knew the Briton and long time friend only had his best interests in mind, much as both Darya and Lancelot also seemed to feel it necessary to coddle Arthur tonight.
Arthur frowned and inwardly rolled his eyes at Lancelot’s comment. The first knight was fortunate that Arthur had no strength left to argue tonight….apparently; as the herbals in the tea were beginning to work. Arthur yawned and attempted to settle at feeling one of them lift the leg he’d left dangling over the edge of the bed to situate the Roman fully on the mattress. It frustrated Arthur to require so much attention from the three of them, but at least he had finally realized that it was for the best. At least for one night. He prayed that Merlin would have mercy and refrain from striking again….not while Arthur was too weak to face the Woad leader himself. The Commander did not doubt the abilities of his officers, but Arthur knew how to deal with Merlin the best.
“My condition?” Arthur sighed and briefly thought on what exactly he’d want Scipio to be told for now. “Send a message that I am resting comfortably tonight and that I will receive him first thing in the morning…I want a full report on the attacks from him and Malcus at sun up,” He finished without uncovering his eyes to actually make eye contact with Lancelot or the women present.
A touch on Arthur’s leg, light yet caring, had the Roman removing his arm from over his eyes at last. He met Lancelot’s concerned gaze with weary albeit appreciative eyes. And almost simultaneously, Darya’s slender fingers brushed at Arthur’s brow after she had sufficiently covered his body with a blanket. His freshly stitched side still ached and despite being dressed in only his trousers, Arthur felt uncomfortably warm. The fever surely persisted, but Neeve had reassured that the tea would help reduce it.
“Lancelot, you will allow Neeve to see to that arm now, my friend,” Arthur said in a tone that brooked no argument. He then turned to look at Darya and reached up to cup at her cheek. “You look tired…sleep here with me, hm?” Arthur whispered to Darya, suddenly feeling guilty for having both her and Lancelot in the room while he attempted to rest. And again, Arthur thought he saw something in Darya’s eyes….something unsettling. But whatever Neeve had placed in his tea seemed to be working quite well now…Arthur’s lids were quite heavy and he finally wanted to give in to sleep. It had been days since the Roman had taken more than an hour or two of rest….his hand slid from Darya’s jaw and Arthur allowed his eyes to drift shut. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 16 2010, 10:21 PM Post #318 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Thu Apr 24, 2008 2:09 pm Mari Mari wasn't able to define the look that Milan gave her. She couldn't say that he was smitten with her, couldn't translate it in her head that he was adoring her at that very moment. All Mari could recognise was how it made her feel. She felt warm when his eyes peered at her like that, she felt light, her eyes felt brighter, wider. It was a good feeling and she gave Milan the faintest, sweetest smiles in thanks.
She was trying to focus on how he said the words but his touch, the contact of his skin against hers at such a sensitive spot like her neck made focussing quite difficult. Mari dropped her eyes, looking at her chest when he gestured to it and she gave a lopsided smile. Her soulful brown eyes peered upwards at Milan though she kept her chin tilted downwards a little. "Girl. Boy." she said, pointing at him when she said boy, "Woman... " she thumbed to herself, "Man..." Mari finished, keeping her thumb inwardly pointing to hereslf and extending her index finger to point at Milan. It made her skin tingle and her stomach do a little flip to refer to herself as a woman, and a woman to Milan's 'man' too. "You're getting quite good at this. Tell me you want to learn more...?" Mari asked hopefully - hoping that he wuold want to learn more and that he would actually ask her in a full sentence! She was aware that the room was beginning to lighten around them but she felt such peace laying there with Milan that the thoughts of moving right now were completely unwelcome! Catherine
Victory! It was the first thought that clattered around Catherine's head. The next thought was how she was possibly going to draw this man to a point where he might speak willingly. Every utterance from his lips seemed forced, it seemed ... unwilling at least. But she would not let that bother her right now. Her smile was radiant, her eyes brightening with the promise of mischief as Tristan looked her up and down. It was funny to note that he looked at her so critically. He had sharp eyes, as a scout aught to, and Catherine felt their heat now. Every loose thread in her clothing would have been spotted by those eyes, every rumple in her skirt, every faint laughter line about her pretty eyes ... Suddenly she felt her stomach tighten, her back straighten and her head lift - making a more perfect image of herself for him to peruse. Tristan made a motion to his coin pouch but Catherine did not look at that. She found the more practical sides of her job to be rather embarrassing and rathered she did not have to think on it too much. So her confident green eyes never left Tristan's face, though her lips puckered in acknowledgement, giving her a rather superior looking attitude to money. As if she was not in this line of work for the money alone. Which, technically she wasn't. Her mother, on the other hand, was.
The blonde tossed her head as she looked over her shoulder to where he gestured. A coy smile tugged her lips as she nodded her head in ascent, wondering if he intended on taking her out in the open, or perhaps in the stables. He seemed the type to enjoy the outdoors more than most. Perhaps that applied to the demands of his libido too. "After noon meal." Catherine affirmed, looking back at Tristan. She pushed off from the wall and dipped him a half curtsey, meeting his eyes with a sultry set to her pretty lips as she rose. Of course such a gesture was not necessary but she wanted to see if he liked it, trying to discover what kind of lover he wanted in her. "No boundaries. No rules." the whore told him with a wink, turning on her heel. She put a hand to the edge of her hood and peered around it at Tristan before starting to descend the steps, watching her every footfall cautiously. The last thing she needed was to fall in the muck and have to bathe again. Though that might not be a bad idea in itself ... Saoirse
There was no pride in being told that in these moments. Saoirse knew she was right. But she also knew that being right would not make this any easier for Dagonet. Hell, it would not make it any easier for herself. And oh her selfish nature ensured she would not feel pride! Her upset was not so much that Gedeon had died, but that her lover's son had died, that her lover was so broken. She would miss Gedeon and thought it an incredible loss, for certain, but she could not deny that she was so relieved that it was nto Dagonet who had died... Selfish, stupid selfish!
"No." Saoirse's voice was barely audible as she protested Dagonet's wish to have died back there. She shook her head, teary eyes snapping open to look intently at the Knight, her gaze warning him not to mean what he had just said. In her mind she made a note to thank Gawain and Derfel personally for bringing Dagonet out of the mire he had been in, for ensuring he did come back - even if it was to face this utter hell without his son.
The agony of listening to his misery was telling in Saoirse's eyes. She wanted all these things to be said from him now, now when the pain was raw for she would not stand for such things later when he was better. The red head understood that he suffered and suffered terribly, but she would not have him wishing death upon himself. Not when he did have more than pain in his life, even now. "Me, love. Y've me." Saoirse said quickly, blinking back the tears, whispering to him with her eyes closed, opening them to see his reaction, then closing them again as she continued. The hand on his chest moved downwards, her fingers curling into Dagonet's hand, holding it tightly. "An' we've a whole future t'gether. You won't always be in service t'Rome, Dagonet. When all this is done me an' you can start a real life t'gether. We can have our own home. Maybe not here - maybe somewhere else. Somewhere on the coast, somewhere tha'll not remind us of any o'this. Ye have so much t'live fer, Dagonet." Saoirse exhaled, bowing her head so that her forehead rested on Dagonet's, her lips brushing his gently. "Ye have me an' I love you an' I'll not hear ye say tha' ye don't have tha' love anymore. Ye know ye do. And always will." Galahad
Galahad suddenly felt very bad for pushing Alina. When she came over to take his hand, his wide eyes watched her, looking from his hand to her lips and then to her eyes. She looked every bit as sorrowful as she sounded and all the knight wanted to do was to take her back into his lap and kiss away her pain. When she said that missing him had hurt the most, Galahad couldn't help but feel... well, not happiness, but he felt appreciated. That she missed him so much... "I'm back now sweetheart." he murmured to her, rising to his feet and wrapping his arms about her shoulders. He bowed his head over hers, kissing her crown. She felt warm against his bare chest, but she also felt like she was trembling, as if her heart was racing. Galahad sighed, withdrawing a little to look down into her face, offering her a small, boyish smile. "Everything will go back to normal now - like I was never gone. Nothing's changed - it's still you and it's still me, alright? Maybe ... maybe you should go lie down hmm? Get some more rest?" the Sarmatian said with a hopeful smile, as if his words were making what he said fact. He nodded his head towards the bed... Eala Something was happening. Eala's black eyes were huge. As soon as she saw shadows moving outside she withdrew to the very back of her cell, hunkered there, favouring her wounded side a little. She didn't look like a girl in pain though - her posture was stiff, of course. And her shoulder looked all wrong, not to mention the bruises and grazes. But the attentive look about her face, the severity of her expression, it just didn't make much sense considering her physical hurts. It was fear that was making her stand, fear that was making her feet move, readying herself for whatever was to come. The shadows moved off and Eala perceived a noise. She cocked her head to the side, trying to hear clearer but she was unable to pick up anything else. Her fingers flexed, her hand slapping against her bare chest instinctively reaching for the knives that were not there. The shadows were coming back. The torchlight outside illuminated a man. Eala snarled at him, hissing like a wild animal and backed off another two steps, her feet crossing over each other like a stalking predator. Black eyes peered intently at the broad shouldered male. His lips moved as he spoke and Eala's face became intent, trying to make some sense out of what he said by reading his mouth. It was hard, she didn't know this man, didn't know how he normaly looked when speaking, but she managed to decipher 'dangerous, kill, alive' and something about an order. None of it made much sense to Eala, but did it need to? This was her enemy. This was a Roman. Eala hated Romans. The very look of him was pompous and invasive to EAla. Though he didn't look as pompous as the bastard that had put her on his horse the night before. The little blonde hissed again, her little nose wrinkling up with the savage expression. She made a faint move forward, stomping her booted foot, heedless of her nudity, uncaring of it in fact. Another man joined the first and he made to move inside of her cell. Eala snarled, her frantic, wild eyes shifting from one man to the other. And for all the fear she felt inside she did not look like a terrified young child. Amadeus Amadeus had been rather disheartened to receive the message from Arthur that he would see him in the morning. A more heartening message to Amadeus would have said something about Arthur needing him to come to his rooms now that he did not think he would live out the night. Now tht would have cheered him greatly. However, this opportunity would have to suffice. He awoke feeling stiff. Pain throbbed everywhere in his body, unused to proper fighting as he was. His arm felt the worst for it had been so long since he had used a sword in a proper battle. Amadeus prefered to be a tactician, he prefered dictating from the sidelines and allowing more disposable men to risk their lives on the battlefield. Rowan's room was not as comfortable as his own, so once awake Amadeus made his way to his own room. He prodded the fire to get a blaze, then set about washing and shaving. His armour was in bad need of a polish and so he set his man to it. Once dressed, the Optio glanced at himself in teh polished metal that he used as a mirror. Rowan had a real mirror but he didn't want t go back into that room just yet... His hair was in a messy toussel atop his head and the Optio flicked his long fingers at the dangling strands. He pursed his lips and sighed, flopping down in a chair thinking a moment. He felt an unnatural tiredness in his bones, as if he had not slept at all though he had. And well too. There was too much to be done for him to find rest in his sleep though. He had a fort to take over. He had men to make fall into his side. He had plans to make. He had a commander to bring down and almost a score of Sarmatians to do away with. If any could be convinced to serve him under his rules then maybe he would keep one or two. But Amadeus knew enough of Sarmatians to know that these would not acept his rules. He would not be lenient on them. He would rule them with an iron fist which is what Arthur should have been using in the first place. Snorting, Amadeus got to his feet and brushed his hands down the thick tunic he would wear beneath his armour which was now polished. He stood as his man strapped it onto his chest, pulling on his own gauntlets as he walked out the door, making his way to Arthur's room for his meeting with the Commander. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 16 2010, 10:24 PM Post #319 |
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Author: Unicorn Date: Thu Apr 24, 2008 2:26 pm Dagonet
Dagonet swallowed roughly as he heard that simple word and saw the look in her eyes. He did not mean to make her react this way. He didn't want to see these emotions in her. Gods! Why this all had to be so hard? He returned... and saw how much mistake would he made if he would indeed stay there, laying on the battlefield with his wound oppened, bleeding... dying. He would make her hurt even further! And in that moment he was so greatful to Gawain and Derfel for bringing him back... for Gawain to hold him not to fall and Derfel to give him so much support, both physically and mentaly. Her eyes were so gentle, yet so hurted.. Teary. Dagonet watched her with his chest so thight and hurted. Even so he was glad he had told her of the matter now.... That he let it out. And well he almost died back there... that night when he got high fever and was delirous... But he held on to his life just for the sake of Saoirse.. and Linnette and her child.. Not for himself. This world was pure torture... This life was giving him only pain and vrief moments of happiness... Only brief moments... like meeting Saoirse, making love to her, like Gedeon returning to him, like Gedeon getting married, like Saoirse back in his arms. But it was only brief moments of happiness. What happened to real happiness he should feel?
Dagonet listened to her.. and felt his chest thighten even more in pain, new tears coming to his eyes. She said it... He had hers... They should have hope... Service to Rome... he was long as a slave to Rome that he almost forgett how it is to live a normal life, with freedom. How freedom tasted? How it felt? Would he be able to live normal life? When this is done... but when? There were years before his duty is finished... And he could die any moment. Home... This word echoed in his mind and heart for a longer moment. Where was his place in this world? Could he build a new home and be happy there? This dream of freedom and having a real home was so long lost.... lost in his boyish dreams... fools dreams. He felt his eyes close for moment in his weakened state and felt Saoirse's forehead touch his. Gods how he wanted just to slip away and hide from everything to have her only in his arms. Her lips brushed over his and he instinctively tasted her lips with his own, kissed her gently... This mere movement made his heart ache for her deeper.
He oppened his eyes and looked into hers as she held his large hand thightly in her tiny one. He shook his head slowly and with much effort rised his upper body slightly of the bed to look deep into her eyes, deeper than before. "I want this love... always has... always will" he uttered in a low whisper. He allowed himself another few tears and felt his shoulders giving up to overwhelming weakness.... slumping back to the bed with a wince. "I want to be... happy..." he said with closed eyes, and squeezed Saoirse hand as much as he could, but due to his weakness it must have been only a small tug... "I want to have... home... I want to have you.. I want this love" he said silently and oppened his eyes to look at her face. "But there is death and pain written in me.... Saoirse" he admitted. "I don't know... how to deal with them...." But still there was a little doze of hope as she said that he had her love. Corners of his mouth twitched... She loved him. She wanted to stay with him for the rest of her life. "Wake me..." he uttered. "Wake me from this nightmare, Saoirse... Wake me from this pain... I can't stand it anymore... Shake it off me. Please.. do anything that this all would go away... this fear and guilt. Everything. Please make me breath fully again..." he was crying again and bowed his head to slid it further agaisnt her shoulder and neck. His arm went to her waist and tried to pull her closer to him. "Just say this will be alright..." His fingers dug into her shoulder slightly... "No father should bury his son... And I can't even do it." he exlaimed in his low voice suddenly. "There was no body... no body. I don't even know if he found peace... I can't speak with the gods. Not anymore. I've lost them also..." |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 16 2010, 10:25 PM Post #320 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Thu Apr 24, 2008 3:13 pm Ione As she made her way throught the dim light of morning toward her shop, Ione had only thoughts of Javier drifting into her mind....plus the act that she had given into with Mirtha...plus the fact that she had not had a cycle in almost a month or so. The winter dawn was breaking as she arrived at the shop, and stopped at the broken door before stepping inside. Cloaks and blankets were strewn about and the chairs and table were over turned...and skeins of yarn were unraveled and lie tangled on the floor. Ione knew she'd have to get a carpenter in here to help with some repairs.... Stepping inside, she closed the half hinged door as best as she could, before turning to assess what needed to be done first. Dark eyes traveled to the small room and memories of the first kiss she and Javier had exchanged came back to her...the whole place reminded her of him and she felt hot tears sting her eyes. She had lost Thorn, Javier was gone, and Adian was missing.... Suddenly, Ione ran out of the house, around the corner, and vomited. It was a good thing no one was there to see her as she did so. Finishing, Ione felt a tad better, and went back inside, closed the door as best as she could and latched it securly, before heading over to the small room where the unused basin of fresh, cold water sat with a clean towel. The one thing she was glad of was that someone had removed the two dead woads from the shop.... Ione closed the door, and undressed to give herself a refreshingly cold bath...wiping away all of the dirt and grim she had accumulated since she arrived.... |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 16 2010, 10:57 PM Post #321 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Thu Apr 24, 2008 3:18 pm Drake Drake would not look back on his time at Badon Hill with regret. The regret was in leaving actually. He looked at the wooden door of Alina's room, his thick fingers rubbing the parchment letter he was about to slide in under it to let her know that he was gone. It seemed wrong to do it like this but she was reunited with Galahad now no doubt. Or she was with Kolya. Either possibility was something he did not want to disturb and so he decided this was best. Last night he had admitted to himself that he had let things go too far here. He had been good at compartmentalising his life before. He had operated without engaging his heart and he had prevented himself from hurting and frmo hurting other people. But something here had changed him. It had made him feel again. And that was never good to a man who had sworn to cut off his feelings. Feelings led to hurt. His dead wife and brother were testament to that. His children... No, he would not think of them now. Hunkering, Drake slid the paper under Alina's door and shrugged his saddlebags higher on his shoulder. His face was severe, his bottle green eyes looking down to the ground as he walked the corridor, pushed open the door and until the cold wind hit him. Drake blew out a breath, looking up at the miserable scene before him. It was a stupid time of year to start travelling but he felt that he had little in the way of options. Remaining at Badon Hill was not possible now. Not when things had gotten so far. Not when his feelings had clawed out of the dark recesses of his body. She didn't need him here. And if he was to be brutally honest with himself, and Drake was now, she had never needed him. Lifting a hand to wipe his upper lip, Drake's face turned darker and he stepped out into teh rain. He walked towards the stables slowly, perusing the place, trying to convince himself that he didn't need to tell Cassidy and Fleur. He cuold only hope that Cassidy got some satisfaction out of him leaving like she had said he would. Drake got half way to the stables when he spotted a rather lost looking messenger. He was standing at the stables looking around rather bewildered. The Spaniard walked past him and got to Fides' stall before he turned back. "Who are you looking for boy?" the ex-soldier growled. The messenger jumped, turning to look at Drake with hope in his blue eyes. "A woman, sir. Arthur Castus wants to speak to her but she is not in her room and ... I don't know where else to look. No one was in her room." the boy admitted. Drake cocked his eyebrow, then rolled his eyes. "Try where she works you fool." he mumbled, bewildered that he could not figure that out himself. "I don't know where she works, sir." "Her name." "Linnette." Silence. Drake looked at the boy with narrowed eyes. His head was in turmoil. His jaw tensed to a point where his teeth should have shattered. Licking his lips stiffly, the Spaniard extended his calloused hand, wiggling his fingers. The boy smiled in relief and rushed forward, handing the notice of summons to Drake before bowing, whispering thanks, and ran off. Drake felt a fool once the paper hit his hand. He scratched the back of his neck and resolutely stalked out of teh stables, with his saddlebags still over his shoulders. After a short time he found himself feeling an even greater fool. Linnette was nowhere to be seen. He had tried her room, her husband's room, he had tried the tavern and the infirmary but all had come up with no sign or tell of the red-head. A kindling of worry kept trying to ignite in Drake's chest, worry for her safety. But he ruthlessly quenched it. Why worry when she was with her husband? The thoughts of finding her with him were almost as bad as the thoughts of not finding her at all. And just as he was abotu to give up he looked up. It was pure chance that the wind blew a lock of her hair forward, long enough to drift over the grey wall at just the very second Drake looked up at the ramparts. His eyebrows twitched together and he set forward before thinking. His boots made little noise on the steps - once at the top Drake breathed out heavily, looking towards Linnette. She was ... ... alone? Linnette cut a sorry image. Sat on the gruond, her head bowed, her plaited hair falling out of it's normally neat braids. Her cloak fluttered in the breeze but ... she was alone? Drake felt a heaviness in his heart for seeing her like this, so pitiful. He frowned, looking formidable, looking indestructible, untouchable as he stepped forward, warily. There was something terribly wrong here. "Linnette... " he said her name in a deep, gravelly tone, coming down onto one knee across from her, his head dipped to try see her face, one hand clutching his knee, the other clutching his thigh to keep from reaching out to touch her auburn hair. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 16 2010, 10:59 PM Post #322 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Thu Apr 24, 2008 5:28 pm Tristan
She dropped him a curtsy, a subservient, respectful one- or it would have been had her lips not been set in that alluring pout. Very deliberate, that had to be. She knew her trade well, this one- and that was what Tristan wanted. Someone who knew what to do, and would not confuse this for something other than what it was. He returned her curtsy with a nod, just deep enough that it could be considered a cursory bow- maybe- but with no words. Business was taken care of for now- he would see her later. He was faintly amused to note the way she picked her way carefully down the steps, as though afraid she would slip and fall or something. Women- worriers, the lot of them. Shaking his head, Tristan continued on his way down the wall, thinking to stay up here just a few minutes more. Perhaps he would walk as far as the corner stairs, then go down there and get to work with Tirgatao in the stable. It seemed like as good a plan as any. However, a short distance past the stairs that the blonde whore had descended, he came across, unexpectedly, another female figure, leaning on the parapet, looking out. By Hadrian's balls, was the entire female population of the fort taking in the view today? "Little Woad," he greeted this one under his breath as he passed behind her, a small smirk settling onto his face. It was Fiona, daughter of Merlin and would-be non-warrior, gazing out at the land of her birth, at the place where her father was no doubt cooking up some new mischief. He had also once defeated Fiona, or as good as. Last spring, he had come across her on a scouting trip, and had had every opportunity to kill her. Maybe he should have. But those had been the days when he had been with Einin, and grown soft, maybe, and she had looked so young he had let her go. Maybe he should not have. But in any case, she was a mere child to him, of absolutely no threat or consequence- but still, he felt better letting her know that he saw her, and knew her. These Woads, no matter how much a few of them claimed to want peace, couldn't be allowed to roam around unchecked. They had to be kept wary- in their place. Linnette She felt the approach of someone, knew without even looking up that someone was there. She could also tell- just by the tread, the feel of things, that the person was male, and that it was not Gedeon. The presence was heavier than that, somehow, slower-moving and more cautious. She did not think it was Derfel, or Tristan returning, either. Maybe it was one of the guards come either to ask if she was all right, or to order her to leave the wall. No matter; in any case, she could not summon up the energy to care. She remained sitting there with her head down, the wind intermittently plucking at her rumpled hair and at the edges of her cloak, as the person crouched down- but as he spoke, she looked up.
Drake. Drake. The sight of him, looking concernedly, yet frowningly, at her, like a stone that had somehow developed a hint of emotion around its edges, brought back a flood of feelings all over again. She had come to depend on him for rather a lot of help while Gedeon was gone- she had, she thought, projected too much of her feelings for her husband onto Drake- but he wasn't Gedeon. He wasn't Gedeon. And seeing him here, like this, was almost like having half of Gedeon here, but only half, and knowing that she would never, never get the whole again. "D..." she tried to say his name, only to greet him, but already her face was screwing up in involuntary contortions, tears were welling up in her eyes, and the lump in her throat was taking on gigantic proportions. She couldn't continue. Even if there had been anything to say, she was now utterly incapable of speaking it. She was crying again, big, heaving sobs now, and she quickly buried her face in her hands again, drew a corner of her cloak up to partially obscure it from his gaze that was almost like a tangible thing. She scrunched tighter into a ball, drawing in on herself, almost as if she could disappear into the join between the parapet and the rampart floor. If she could have done just that, in fact, she probably would have. If she didn't exist anymore, it wouldn't hurt like this- and maybe, just maybe, she could be with Gedeon then. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 16 2010, 11:00 PM Post #323 |
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Author: Starbelle Date: Thu Apr 24, 2008 5:44 pm Tatiana Entering the stables, she headed over in the direction where the stall that held Orion was located. Getting a few different types of brushes, she spent some time bushing his mane and coat out, then going over his tail, mentally going over the very enjoyable time that she'd spent with Brendyn in her mind. Sensing that his mistress was in a different mood than usual, he turned his head and whickered quietly, gently nuzzling her hair. Once done and the brushes were replaced in their places, she patted him, leaving a sugar cube behind in his treat tray before going about her usual tasks. Once they were finished and she'd put everything away nicely and gotten herself cleaned up..she planned to head down to the tavern for lunch, with a few stops to make on the way first. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 16 2010, 11:02 PM Post #324 |
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Author: Lancelot Date: Thu Apr 24, 2008 6:36 pm Lancelot
"Yes, yes," Lancelot answered, and walked to the door, his body beginning to sieze up from all the activity he'd had in the past few days. He stuck his head outside the door again, scaring the same small page that he'd sent to get Neeve. He passed on Arthur's message, and came back inside, just in time to have both Neeve and Arthur chide him about his arm.
"Hadrian's balls! Fine," Lancelot grumbled; but if it would make Arthur leave him the fuck alone - so be it. It was only a damned scratch. He tore his borrowed tunic over his head and moodily sat, holding the fabric in his hands as Neeve checked over his arm. "It's fine. Honestly - ow. Fuck." He gritted his teeth as the woman examined him. The chair he was sitting in was comfortable - too comfortable, and Lancelot found himself trying to doze off. His head snapped forward a few times, each motion forcing his eyes open again.
Lancelot flushed, despite himself, and cursed in his native tongue under his breath, hoping the others would think it was his arm that caused it. This was too awkward by far. He wanted to get up and leave; Arthur and Darya obviously needed the time alone, but when he looked at Arthur again, sick and collapsed in a heap on his bed, not even bothering to change out of his riding pants, Lancelot found he couldn't leave the other man alone. Well, not alone, but.... Damn it all. That fucking Optio better have a good explanation for what had happened - and it would be better for Lancelot to stay here, in Arthur's quarters, so he wouldn't miss Scipio's entrance, as it were. Knowing the snotty bastard, he'd try and have a conversation with just Arthur - and would probably end up just wearing the commander out. And then Arthur would try and ride to see Merlin himself...and then Lancelot would have to kill Scipio, if only for honor's sake. Yes, that was it. Therefore, Lancelot was staying in Arthur's rooms, despite Darya's presence. His kinswoman would just have to understand. He nodded again, as if to himself, and his eyes closed as sleep overcame him, even as Neeve was still tending to him. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 16 2010, 11:02 PM Post #325 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Thu Apr 24, 2008 7:06 pm Malcus Barbattus Malcus Cicero Barbattus was an officer in the Roman Army and had seen a lot of shit over the course of his military career. But the sight before him when he swung open the heavy cell door still startled him. What the fuck is that? his mind screamed. Standing before him, in the corner of the stinky cell was a young girl - completely naked. Her hair was about her head, matted to her skull and she was filthy. But even underneath her filth, Malcus could see her bruises. She looked insane, absolutely mad, with her eyes wide and she steadily rocked back and forth on each foot. She was bent over in a panther-like stance and looked ready to pounce. "Careful," Barbattus said to Titrus as they both blocked the door to the cell. The young woad seemed completely oblivous to the fact that she was totally nude and neither her physical condition nor condition of the cell seemed to phase her. "I am Barbattus," the commander said, "I'm going to take you to a healer to have your injuries tended to." Nothing. The girl didn't acknowledge him at all. She just kept rocking back and forth looking crazy. "Do you understand? I'm not going to hurt you, so don't resist me. If you do resist me or try to hurt me in any way, I will restrain you without pause!" Malcus yelled across the room. "Come," the commander said to Titrus, who gathered up the chains in his hands as both men crossed the threshold toward the girl. Suddenly, the girl seemed to growl or gurgle, making some animal-like noise and crouched lower. "Do whatever you must do to protect yourself, lieutenant," Malcus ordered. Titrus nodded and took another step forward Just then, the girl pounced and jumped right into Titrus with her arms flailing and legs kicking. Titrus grabbed the feral, deranged child by her hair and tried to pull her off him. Then he released a blood- curdling scream. "FUCK!" Malcus cursed as he also sprang into action. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 16 2010, 11:03 PM Post #326 |
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Author: linnet Date: Thu Apr 24, 2008 7:49 pm Juna
Merlin’s voice was gentle and soothing as he moved to place himself partly over Juna. His body pressing toward her guided hers to lie back. Her heartbeat had quickened and her eyes stayed open, watching him. There could now be no question what he intended. Her mind was a nervous cauldron of fear that she would prove inadequate, doubts that she would know how to please him. But every kiss that he left as his mouth traveled from her face downward, washed away a piece of the uncertainty. Every touch of his hand that slid upward from her waist, made the doubts irrelevant. Her body knew what it wanted, and it took over. Her breathing became ragged, and soft sounds of pleasure purred from her throat as his kisses sent warm rays of wonderful sensation drifting through her entire body. Her hands reached for him caressing his face, his neck, the back of his head as his mouth neared her breast. He touched her thigh, just below where her skirt had worked its way up while she slept. She let him move her legs apart, raising one slightly at the knee. ‘Merlin,” she said softly so that he would look at her. She placed her hands on his shoulders and pulled him closer so that her mouth could reach his collarbone, his neck, and his mouth. She kissed him with a hunger she had never felt. Her body seemed to almost levitate upwards to meet his, arousing her every nerve. She looked into his deep eyes. “I have wanted you for so long,” she said, with open feeling and a touch of sadness. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 16 2010, 11:04 PM Post #327 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Thu Apr 24, 2008 8:56 pm Brendyn So far the morning was freezing cold, and Brendyn had not had time to eat yet, but he didn't want to be late for guard duty either. According tot he roster, he saw that he was, indeed on guard duty, but in the dungeons. If they were anything like the dungeons at Aesica, then this would be exciting. Brendyn wrapped his cloak about his body, and walked over to the stairs leading to the dungeons... ...the first thing always to hit him was the smells: rancid and dank, moist and moldy, urine and fecal matter. He was use to it....somehwat. Thoughts of Tatiana's face drifted into his mind adding a bit of sunshine to the scene that met his eyes as he decended the stairs. He really liked her as a friend, and thought that, somehow, she reminded him of a girl he once knew. Brendyn's thoughts broke as he heard what sounded like Malcus's voice coming from down a ways from where he was, and Titrus's voice as well. He moved closer, and heard talking, othe runintelligable noises, then....
Brendyn ran to the cell the noise had come from.... |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 16 2010, 11:05 PM Post #328 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Thu Apr 24, 2008 8:59 pm Neeria Neeria stood and walked to the small window as morning made it's way over the keep. She pressed her head to the bars, straining to look up - to perhaps see the sky. A stone wall stood on the other side of the window, only allowing a small stream of light into the cell. She could barely see a sliver of the sky over the tall wall, but she was thankful for that. At least she was alive, that mattered for something, she thought. The woad unwrapped herself from the blanket that Tristan had brought her and laid it on the straw mat. Then she moved to the far corner of the small room to relieve herself again. When finished, she picked up the blanket and wrapped her trembling body. She felt the wound on her side which now felt like a hot, throbbing mess of oozing pus. It also stank. There was no doubt now that it was infected because Neeria was aware that she also had a fever. She was both freezing and burning up at the same time. The woman held the side of her face, pressing lightly under her eye, on her cheekbone, where the Roman had punched her in the face during their attack against Arthur. It was swollen and painful. Despite the wound at her side, Neeria hadn't suffered any broken bones. For that, she was thankful. She was missing a boot and her foot was filthy and bloody. She had scratches and bruises on her breasts from the guard's attack the night before. She would live if she were allowed to see a medicus. If not, death would be a blessing and she would embrace it. Neeria heard voices on the other side of her cell door. She struggled to stand back up and move toward the massive door. She pressed her ear against the wood, straining to hear. She recognized the Roman's voice - the Roman that came to her after the guard was removed - the official-looking one. Neeria couldn't remember his name. It didn't matter, they were all vile. Neeria could tell that he was further down the corridor from her cell. He'd actually come back to the dungeons as he said he would. Neeria hadn't believed that he would. All Romans were liars and not to be trusted. Merlin had taught her that. Just then, a key slid into the lock. Neeria rushed back to the straw mat and sat down. When the door opened, she peered nervously at yet another Roman. One she had never seen before. He stared at her. Neeria gathered the blanket around her body, not knowing what he wanted. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 16 2010, 11:06 PM Post #329 |
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Author: sabor ice Date: Thu Apr 24, 2008 11:26 pm Milan
He gave a lop-sided smile and shook his head in disagreement when she initially referred to herself as a 'girl.' When she gestured to herself again and said 'woman,' he mused approvingly. Milan had never thought of Mari as a girl, and he would've been surprised to learn if she had thought differently. Mari was pretty and trim, intelligent and kind, a companion to life itself. No, he saw no 'girl' here. As for himself, although he was no 'boy' per se, Milan retained the charms of one. Mari was perhaps a tad more excited about getting Milan talking than he was, but her efforts did not go unappreciated. It was quite overwhelming on his part to have been catapulted into this new prospect called 'speech' so suddenly, but he was holding up well. Mari had the patience of a saint and thank goodness for that. He needed practice and he needed time. It was hard not being able to speak his mind, to tell her things he had never been able to say before, especially now that he knew he did have a voice. Contrary to Mari's hopes though, Milan wasn't going to be speaking full sentences for awhile yet - at least not coherent ones. He raised his hand to her face, allowing his fingers to lightly trickle down her features once, something he had done several times in the past, and now the movement was done unconsciously. "Sleep...you...me..." he uttered tiredly, gesturing to her and then to himself, respectively. His subjects and verb were backwards, but his meaning was obvious enough. He wanted for them to sleep awhile now. After all, they had been going at this 'talking' thing non-stop since the previous day. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 16 2010, 11:07 PM Post #330 |
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Author: SarmatianKnight Date: Fri Apr 25, 2008 3:24 am Lucius Lucius watched while Barbattus and Titrus headed for the second cell. He did not enter the one with the woman, who should be no problem. He recognised the stuff his Captain had brought with him and somehow he had no good feeling about what would happen in that second cell. A child, injured badly just did not fit to what he saw: two men entering the cell with leg irons. And did they just say something about killing her? Lucius was not sure (and probably it was better, otherwise he would have done something stupid) and with a final glance into the direction of the two men, he turned back to the unlocked and open cell. It was slightly light-headed to turn away from an open door that locked away a prisoner until now. With a small sigh he wondered if the correct way was somewhere between the leg irons and being careless… Lucius looked into the cell just to find the woman he had seen in the courtyard sitting on a straw mat, far away from trying to escape. He took his time to look at her because he was sure that the first impression – good, bad, pathetic, whatever – was the most important one. So far he had done right with this behaviour. He did not stare though. He looked interested. After another brief moment Lucius entered the cell – and closed the door behind him. He did not think that he had to cry for help or run away. And it was better to talk to people alone and he meant alone. Healer, fed, clothes – of course, but he would follow this order in his own pace. The order did not specify the length of time. He closed the distance between them and looked at the small point of her face where her fingers pressed against her cheekbone. “Does it hurt?” he asked, not approaching further because while he cared for people he wanted to avoid to end with one of his own daggers in his chest. He could not see all of her wounds but the blood on the naked foot was obvious. “Come” he offered her a helping hand. “You need to see a healer.” He did not push her, he did not press her, he did not drag her out of the cell. He waited. |
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