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| April 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Nov 5 2009, 10:37 PM (3,978 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 01:06 AM Post #106 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Mon Apr 07, 2008 8:50 pm Neeria Neeria banged on the door and screamed after Tristan and the guard until she was hoarse. The woad was finally convinced that the scout had left her and the guard would not come to her, she put her forehead against the door and cried. She rolled her body until her back was against the door and slowly slid to the floor, not bothering to attempt to hold back the tears that burned her tired eyes. The warrioress buried her head in her knees and squeezed her eyes shut so she wouldn't have to stare out into the darkness that consumed the small stinky cell. "Mikel," she whispered in the dark as she choked back her emotions. Terrified of ghosts and evil spirits that may have been contained in the cell, Neeria began to pray to her god, Orius, that he comfort her. This was the fault of Arthur Castus. He was the reason she was here! But as much as she wanted to hate him, she would give anything to get out of her prison hell. She had nothing left to fuel her hatred. Neeria hugged her knees and cried. She held out hope that someone would come to her. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 01:07 AM Post #107 |
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Author: linnet Date: Mon Apr 07, 2008 9:04 pm Juna
Picking up on Merlin’s lead, Juna shot a quick glance at Lourdes, while listening to his plan. She was cold and tired, and had hoped to dry off and warm up a while before setting out to tend anyone not yet cared for, and to re-visit those who needed additional attention. Merlin’s request meant she would have to constantly be aware of where Lourdes was, and ready to act at the moment the woman appeared about to leave. That in turn meant she wouldn’t be able to concentrate as well as she preferred on the people she would be treating. But Juna very much wanted Merlin’s plan to rescue the prisoners to succeed. She wanted Eala safely back where she belonged, and she wanted any chance of betrayal under pressure eliminated. And of course, she knew that she’d probably do anything Merlin asked of her, as long as she believed he wasn’t merely taking advantage of her feelings for him. So really, there was no need to think this over. “Yes,” she said, smiling, “I could.” She moved her hand to allow him to take it. “I’ll watch her surreptitiously, but like a hawk. And I’ll intercept her if she starts to leave. But you’d better have a backup method ready in case I can’t hold her long enough.” She saw the tiredness in Merlin’s face, and was about to ask if they had time for her to check out his arm before she had to start her watch. Before she got the chance though a mysterious, ragged, non-Woadish person approached them.
“Guinevere?” Juna said amidst her amused laughter. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 01:09 AM Post #108 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Tue Apr 08, 2008 6:55 am Merlin
"Oh, there's a backup method, all right," Merlin answered grimly, his jaw tightening as he gestured in illustration at the guards keeping watch over the perimeter of the camp. "It's just a last resort." He shifted his gaze over to Lourdes again, then back to Juna, his look softening now. Her hand felt very nice in his, and he rubbed his thumb idly over the skin there. "I'll have a few of the kids keep an eye on her, too- so they can give you some warning." He smiled at her, squeezed her hand lightly, then heaved another sigh, starting to think again about what else might need to be done- when the scarf-wrapped figure of his daughter dashed back up to them, a bit breathless from a jog across the camp.
Merlin gave a small laugh himself- Guinevere seemed almost childlike in her eagerness at that moment- a mirror of how she had been when she was a young girl, playing in their village, not yet hardened by war and death. It was rather bittersweet- but also, Merlin recognized, a good sign. She was ready for this mission, excited about it. He took a small step backwards, looking her up and down critically. "It's good, good," he concluded with a satisfied nod. She had managed to drape herself in such a way that it obscured her body well, and her face was covered, too, all but for one eye. It might do for mixing with the crowd at the marketplace, something like that- but still, she should not trust it too far. "Still, daughter, I trust you will take the utmost care in the fort, will you not?" Merlin's expression became more stern now, warning. "There are many who might recognize you- and no disguise is perfect." |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 01:11 AM Post #109 |
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Author: Unicorn Date: Tue Apr 08, 2008 9:18 am Mirtha Mirtha with Ione beside went to the courtyard, while the knights and rest arrived on the place. Mirtha was not specially interested in men, who arrived as he did not really know many of them... Only that man, who he had met on the first evening here and his blond haired friend... Gedeon and Derfel... Mirtha didn't know nobody else from Arthur's elite group of knights. He was much more interested in their animal companions... Horses were tired, need of feeding and water. It was plainly visible.
He nodded his head and without further looking at the arriving company Mirtha entered the stables with Ione close by. The place was a bit messy... A bit was too small word for it! The attack had their effect on the building... He should be here during the attack!! There were marks of fire on walls and in some place people still fought to put out the flames. There was smoke... Thank the heavens for rain!
He looked back at Ione and sighed slightly frowning.. What could she do? Before he could speak she went to the horse in a nearby stall..
Mirtha smiled as the mare tugged his pocket in searching for food... Normaly he would have something to give him, while working in this place. But not today. It was a hard time for them all right now, after the attack. "Nice..." he said and patted horse on it's neck. In the moment he wanted to say something more... he heard noices just outside. The men arrived finally at the place and were dismouting having them brought to the stables. "Hey!" he shouted at the group of stable-hands nearby.. "Help with the horses outside!" He smiled back at Ione and gave Tarik one more gentle pat on the neck.. "You can help with giving the horses water.. okey?" Then he himself moved away with murmured sorry and inspected each horse... If were they injured or any need of any special help. It took time... Some were injured, some were exhausted to the limits.. the one carrying heavy or injured people, carts... were overburden. Time passed on hard working right now... Soon he noticed a man standing near by (Tristan). Mirtha remembered him seeying returning from the mission with others. He rised an eyebrow at him. "Anything you want?" he asked. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 01:12 AM Post #110 |
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Author: Darya Date: Tue Apr 08, 2008 10:19 am Darya The dark Sarmatian thoroughly ignored Lancelot’s snippy tone even though she wished he would for once spare her with it. But on the other side, she knew the First Knight well enough by now to dismiss his words to her as his usual way to deal with uncomfortable and unpleasant situations... ...and this situation was not only unpleasant but also shocking...scaring. Darya only reluctantly let go of Arthur’s hand to open the door to the Commander’s room as Lancelot had 'asked' her to do...and what she would have done anyway. Her dark eyes never left the Roman while the First Knight more or less dragged him into the room. Darya supported them as best as she could...yet always afraid to hurt her lover even more as she did not know where exactly he was injured. To not feel completely useless, the woman hurried over to the fireplace and lit up a fire to warm the room...again and again glancing over her shoulder at Arthur as she did so...
Darya winced unconsciously when both men suddenly mentioned the word 'death' and she shut her eyes for a moment until she was sure a steady flame would bring light and warmth to the quarters...as it would certainly do good to Arthur...Lancelot and herself. No cloak had sheltered her from the persistant drizzle outside...and she was freezing badly, but still did not care. Not now... Chewing the inside of her cheeks, the dark-haired moved over to the wash basin and filled a small bowl with water. Then she grabbed a small clean cloth and joined Lancelot by the bed...yet hunkering down opposite him. A bit hesitantly, she began to dab the soaked yet warm cloth over Arthur’s pale skin...attempting to wash dirt, rain and blood off wherever she could without causing him any more pain...
The woman lifted her gaze and looked at her lover from under her dark eyelashes. The question had caught her a bit off guard and even though there was a lot she had to tell him, Darya was not sure if now was the right time. After all, Arthur’s life was at stake here... Yet should he not know exactly for this reason?, she thought but quickly forced herself to dismiss any idea of the man she loved not surviving the day. “I...I’m just tired...and exhausted...nothing serious...”, the female Sarmatian attempted to assure the Roman and even managed a small smile, “...the Woad attack came unexpected and lasted longer than the last one... I guess that is why...” With that, Darya cautiously mopped up Arthur’s brow and could not help but wonder just how much of the thin wet film on his skin was rain...and how much was sweat... Cold sweat due to heavy blood-loss. A symptom she knew too well herself... Then her gaze lingered on Lancelot’s hands fumbling with the laces of their Commander’s armour...and she noticed the blood on his arm...and hands. “Let me help you...”, she said firmly, put the bowl aside for a moment and started to unlace the other side of the armour, “...and even though you will not like this, Lancelot, but you should see a healer, too...” She paused and let her gaze shifted from her fellow Sarmatian to Arthur and back. “And how about you not arguing about it this time either?”, Darya added and finished unlacing her side of Arthur’s armour. Her small fingers were cold, too...but still worked deftly... She casted a meaningful, perhaps slightly warning glance at her fellow Sarmatian before focussing on Arthur again. Darya was by all means not in the mood to argue with Lancelot – again and especially not now – but they had one thing in common now: the justified concern for Arthur’s health...his life. “You should drink something...”, the dark-haired quietly addressed her lover and met his weary emerald gaze again... |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 01:13 AM Post #111 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Tue Apr 08, 2008 10:35 am Tristan
"Aye- a horse." Tristan answered as straighforwardly as Mirtha had asked his question. The stable manager was a direct, blunt man, not one to beat around the bush, and Tristan appreciated that- he really did. Some people, he knew, found Mirtha rude and hard to approach, but then again, those same people found Tristan impossible, a brick wall when came to communication. In reality, they both had the same style- they just said what they meant, when they meant to say it. "I lost mine in the battle," Tristan explained further, shrugging to indicate that that was a shame, then reaching out to lightly pat the neck of the horse in the stall next to him, who was standing right next to the partition and in easy reach. It was an idle gesture, almost automatic- Tristan knew that that particular horse already belonged to one of the fort's minor officers, but the brief touch of smooth fur was a comfort, somehow. "What's available?" He pulled back his hand from the horse's neck and folded his arms before him, then glanced up and down the nearest stable row, almost as if the animals that were ownerless might suddenly make themselves known to him. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 01:14 AM Post #112 |
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Author: Darya Date: Tue Apr 08, 2008 11:10 am Neeve The Briton’s blue gaze shifted from one person to the other once the small group slowly made its way into the infirmary. She would not feel okay until they all were inside...where other healers could help her should someone collapse... She was somewhat relieved once she could close the door behind them and watched Derfel and Saoirse maneuver Dagonet to the next empty cot. Luckily, the fire had not destroyed many beds so that the infirmary should still have enough space for more ill and injured people... No doubt, several soldiers would show up soon...those who had fought the Woads...
The healer lifted her chin and hurried over to Derfel to see what he was referring to. “I have to cut off your shirt, Dag...”, she addressed the tall knight and her eyes silently asked him for his permission to do so, “...you know the procedure...” She gave the Sarmatian a wry smile...yet there was sadness in her voice. She had seen Dagonet way too often in the infirmary...too often for her taste... Then her gaze was on Derfel again. “How was he injured and who has done the stitching?”, she asked quietly as those were information she needed to prepare for her check-up on the injured knight.
Linnette’s broken voice then caught her attention and she glanced at the redhead. She hoped that someone could answer the question...because Linnette deserved to know the truth. To live on without knowing what had happened was bad...and painful. She knew it too well... And while Neeve brought her small knife up with one swift movement of her hand, ready to tend to Dagonet once she was allowed to, she once more eyed Linnesse...searching for a hint of the blonde needing some rest... |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 01:16 AM Post #113 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Tue Apr 08, 2008 11:48 am Derfel
“He’s going to be fine…he’s as strong as an ox, strong as they come, lass,” Derfel gave the redhead a reassuring smile while they both helped Dagonet to settle on the cot. The younger knight knew Dagonet disliked the infirmary, all the Sarmatians seemed to have an aversion to the place, but he needed tending to and thank the gods for Saoirse’s presense. Certainly she was the one person Dagonet needed the most now….and with that thought, Derfel glanced over to have a look at his own lover again to reassure himself that Linnesse was alright. She had Linnette pressed to her side as Neeve came to Dagonet’s aid. All were close at hand as if clinging together in their sorrow.
“Bors did the best he could last night,” Derfel answered Neeve with a small nod and then stood from the bed to give the healer all the room she required. Saoirse’s gentle touch would certainly be a more welcome comfort than Derfel’s sword caloused hand in steadying Dagonet as Neeve began her work.
Derfel thought that Dagonet should be the one to explain, thus he remained quiet for the moment….but prepared to give Linnette the details should the Sarmatian be too exhausted and pained by the memory to answer. Derfel moved to Linnesse’s side and wrapped an arm around her slender shoulders. Even though his lover had attempted to reassure him that she was better now, Derfel still looked down at Linnesse with concern. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 01:18 AM Post #114 |
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Author: Unicorn Date: Tue Apr 08, 2008 12:56 pm Dagonet and Saoirse
Saoirse's eyes were not leaving her lover's full of sorrow and pain face. She knew that... she knew Dagonet was strong and that he was going to be fine. She could not imagine other possibilities.. In fact she dared not to think of anything else than being with Dagonet right now. The redhead bit her lower lip... It must have hurt him so much. His heart probably was now beating so hard and painfully. Her hand slid slowly to his chest and felt rapid beating of his heart. Dagonet oppened his eyes and looked with his weary eyes upon his lover. He longed to be alone with her.. he longed to just let his tears and give up to his sorrow. He so longed for silence and darkness of his room.
Dagonet moved his eyes to meet Neeve's... The corners of his mouth twitched as he saw her wry smile. But it was too soon... Too soon to smile. Too soon to be relieved of anything. His body was tense and hardened. Saoirse did not look at the healer as she came... She watched only Dagonet tired expression. That Neeve again! But it did not matter right now... Anything to wipe away this exhaustion and pain from his face.. Anything. Even Neeve's help. Dagonet swallowed and nodded his head slightly. Now.. this might not be pleasant. But necessary.
Bors? Could he sew? Had he done this right? Saoirse thought with a little panic. Dagonet was the one to mend everybody's wounds on missions.. while he was injured they all had to take care of him.. The tall knight did not like that. Being injured was the worst thing... He did not like to burden others. He hated in fact. "New wounds, over the old ones..." he said to Neeve looking into her eyes avoiding Saoirse's.
Dagonet's eyes went to Linnette as she suddenly asked the qustion. How did it happen? This was painful... Was she prepared enough to know. Dagonet took a deep breath in, while Saoirse moved to give Neeve acces to his side and her hands caught Dagonet's large hand, smoothing it's skin and squeezing gently. "He..." it was so hard to speak of it. "...fell... From high wall... I..I.. did not see... Gawain did" he spoke up after long moment of silence. And watched Linnette's face... |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 01:19 AM Post #115 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Tue Apr 08, 2008 1:15 pm Barbattus "Dismissed," Malcus said to the watch commander. The young man saluted and left the room. The Captain sat back in his chair and sighed heavily now that the double-watch schedule had been completed and handed over to the watch commander who would disseminate the orders to the squad commanders who would post the rosters in the barracks for the soldiers. Barbattus reached inside the drawer of his large desk and pulled out a flask and drank the warm water inside (he never drank spirits while on duty) but wished it was something a lot stronger. He thought the day would never end. After drinking his fill, the commander closed the drawer, stood up and walked out of his office. He walked down the long narrow hallway headed outside when he met Titus. "Walk and talk," Barbattus said, not breaking his long, rhythmic stride. "Commander Castus has been sequestered in his quarters, sir. No one seems to know what's going on." Malcus glanced at Titus sideways but did not reply. That wasn't like Arthur at all, the captain thought, and that behavior confirmed that perhaps Malcus had been right in his guess that Arthur had been injured. Damn! Barbattus thought to himself, hoping that his friend was being taken care of. At least Lancelot is with him. Of that I'm sure. "The young man, Brendyn is with the medic, sir. He will join us as soon as he is released," the lieutenant continued. "Very well," Malcus replied, quickening his pace. "Let's head to the ramparts and make one last check of the dutymen. I want to make see how Lucius is faring at his post," he added with a smirk. "Afterward then Titus, you're dismissed." Malcus said. "And because of that, let's head over to the tavern and have an ale." "Oy, sir," Titus replied with a smile. Both men approached the main gates and climbed up the grueling steep steps which led to the ramparts. After a quick discourse with the duty watch commander and making sure all soldiers were where they were supposed to be, Barbattus spotted Lucius and headed toward him. "How're faring, soldier?" Malcus sarcastically asked the other Roman and awaited his reply. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 01:21 AM Post #116 |
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Author: Lancelot Date: Tue Apr 08, 2008 1:57 pm Lancelot Lancelot continued to unlace the sides of Arthur's cuirass; together, he and Darya managed to get it off the Roman. Lancelot cursed loudly at the sight of Arthur's tunic, soaked in blood. Not wanting to deal with niceties, and not wanting to make the commander lift his arms, he pulled his dagger out of his boot and simply slit through the man's shirt and tore it away.
"Not right now," Lancelot answered, his voice distracted as he peeled the old dressings off and examined Arthur's freshly opened wound. The thing looked bad - angrily red and weeping blood and pus. "Mithras, Arthur," Lancelot sighed, his stress and worry making him revert to cursing the old Roman soldiers' god, and stood. "I'm going to call for a healer, and then we're going to clean this up."
Lancelot looked over at Darya. He was struck suddenly with how tired she did look. He stepped to her and took her arm in his hand, gently. "Get him some water... please." He gazed at her for a moment, and then crossed to the door and opened it, snagging a conveniently passing page by the collar. "You. Boy. Go get Neeve from the infirmary, if that's where she is. If not, find her. Commander Castus needs help, now." He released the boy and shoved him in the direction of the courtyard. Lancelot shut the door again, and turned back to the injured Roman - his friend, his only true friend in all the world, even if he was an annoying, self-sacrificing, stubborn, too trusting bastard - and shook his head. He shed his leather jacket and metal hauberk, tossing them to the corner, and washed his grubby hands in Arthur's shaving water. He got most of the muck off, and, dragging the pitcher that still had some liquid in it, knelt next to Arthur again. Grabbing one of Arthur's spare tunics from the clean pile of laundry - it was the closest thing - the knight began to wipe the excess blood and nastiness off of Arthur's wound. "Darya," he said while still cleaning, never wavering his gaze from his task. "Is there any alcohol here?" |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 01:22 AM Post #117 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Tue Apr 08, 2008 3:51 pm Ione Ione looked up from Tarik who seemed to be infatuated with Mirtha's tunic and pockets begging for sweets as usual. She hoped the man did not mind the horse's teasing and begging. The horses that were being led in were tired and exhausted, and some in bad need of attention and rest. Around the stables were signs that it had been hit with spots of fire which made Ione shiver a bit as it reminded her of the building collapse...had there been a fire? She could not recall, only the face of Javier when the rubble had cleared... Tarik's soft nickering broke Ione's thoughts, when she realized that the mare was warming up to the man rather well. Mirtha gave Tarik a good pat on the neck as the mare shifted her weight contentedly....
Ione turned to the sound of men riding their horses into the stables and dismounting while stable boys rushed over, at Mirtha's command, to take the nearly spent animals to their stalls for some much needed care. Tarik's ears perked foreward as if looking for her mate: Maelwys. Ione felt for the mare as she, too, had half expected Javier to ride in....but it was a pipe dream. She stroked the mare's neck to calm her as her big brown eyes looked over the other horses that arrived. Mirtha gave Tarik one more gentle pat, to which Ione smiled. There were few men the bay mare liked, so it was rare that she was begging for food from Mirtha...
Ione looked at Mirtha, spoke something welsh to the mare, then turned back to the stable master, "It looks like they could all use a good drink. I will do that then." She cast her cloak over Tarik's stall door, and rolled up her sleeves. The young woman walked over to where a bucket was waiting as well as some stable hands ready to assist her in the duty of watering the animals.... Time passed for Ione as she worked to water the animals, then went through with Mirtha to check over some of the horses, while some of the stable hands assisted with other duties required. Magnificent creatures some of horses were! Some were high bred, and their barrings showed it. Some of the horses required a few stitches, or wounds cleaned, but there were some that Mirtha, she knew, would have to take care of for they had gone lame on the battle field or had injuries to their legs which none could help or heal.... The young woman shuddered to think of what needed to be done to those, and she kept on working. Having finished with most of the work, Ione stood and stretched her back a bit. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone standing a bit near to where she and Mirtha were. Ione turned to see Tristan standing silent close to them, and she gave him a slight, but tired smile, 'Tristan, it is good to see you have returned safely...' Though she and the scout had not spoken much...if ever...it was still good to see him as it was all of the knights.
Ione frowned as it seemed there was something bothering the Scout, But before she could ask him, Tristan was already responding...
Ione felt for the scout as seeing a Sarmatian without a horse was like seeing a sky without the sun. "Tristan...I am sorry to hear that..." Ione said. There were a lot of horses around to choose from, but her father had always told her that a horse chooses it's own master...that there had to be this bond like she and Tarik, or Arthur and his horse. Ione stood silently waiting to see what Mirtha would do or say... |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 01:24 AM Post #118 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Tue Apr 08, 2008 4:22 pm Arthur Darya had returned to Arthur’s side and while Lancelot worked to remove his armor, she brought a cool damp cloth to the Commander’s brow. He offered a small smile in appreciation that did not quite reach his eyes. Both Sarmatians were doing all that they could to help him and thank God it had been only them when Arthur had faltered….but the Roman still felt ridiculous and shameful at needing their care. He was the strong one….it was his task and responsibility to watch over them both….the two that had a hold on his heart.
Arthur attempted to search Darya’s dark expression for any hint of her true emotions as he sensed that she was withholding the complete truth…..and his only guess was it had something to do with Lancelot’s presence…the three of them alone in Arthur’s quarters. But the Roman could not focus on Darya long enough to ‘read’ her as Lancelot had begun removing the bandages bringing on another wave of pain. Arthur bit at his bottom lip in obvious discomfort and silently cursed the damned wound. He had his duty and he knew that he must yet go after Merlin…..Arthur’s chin dropped and he allowed his eyes to shut again while he prayed for the strength to overcome this. The Commander simply had no time for dealing with an injury.
Arthur slightly shook his head in refusal. Instead bringing one hand up to rake through his damp hair, then scrubbing over his eyes while attempting to focus on anything other than the scorching pain in his side.
The Commander voiced no argument; Lancelot’s tone making it quite clear he’d hear none of it anyways. Arthur momentarily thought to further question Darya while Lancelot stepped to the door…but failed as his side twinged again. There were several things he wished to say to her, things that had been on Arthur’s mind since the battle at Segedunum. But it would have to wait. Not only did Arthur need all of his strength to harness the pain he was experiencing, his immediate focus had to be on reaching Merlin and ensuring the safety of the fortress. His private life would have to wait. “You will have that arm examined,” Arthur said, with as much of an authoritative tone as he could manage, to Lancelot as his lieutenant returned to his side. He briefly glanced to Darya with a silent insistence that she see to it that Lancelot would be treated for his own injury. Arthur hissed in pain as Lancelot began to wipe at his angry wound. His head was swimming again and Arthur had to press the palms of his hands down on the surface of the bed to steady himself.
“I need you sober, Lancelot,” Arthur retorted, a momentary hint of clarity in his deep green eyes as he attempted to focus on Lancelot. The Commander still intended to ride out to Merlin and he’d need Lancelot to oversee things here in his absence; especially should he not return this time. His inability to comprehend the real reason Lancelot had requested alcohol only further indicated the true severity of Arthur's condition. But stubborn as he was, Arthur fought to keep in control. Arthur quietly cursed in Latin as Lancelot brushed over a particular sore area. Despite the knight’s gentleness with the cloth, it hurt each time Lancelot wiped at any portion of Arthur’s open wound. Had Aelle cut the Roman with a blade coated in poison? The thing was becoming one of the worst cuts Arthur had ever suffered in battle….and that was saying much as his body was riddled with scars from various injuries. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 01:26 AM Post #119 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Tue Apr 08, 2008 4:51 pm Linnette and Linnesse
Linnette nodded her understanding, tears leaking from her eyes again. She wanted to acknowledge Dagonet's words with words of her own- just 'I see' or something like that- but no words could come out of her tight-choked throat. The lump that seemed to have taken up permanent residence there was as large as her heart. It was better to know what had happened- better not to be left wondering- but it was hard to, nonetheless. She couldn't help but picture Gedeon, toppling from a battlement that must be very like the ones here at Badon on which she had stood so many times, nothing but empty space before him, nothing to hang on to, nothing but death on the ground. She seemed to see him falling as though from very far away, a distant figure- very far from any help she or anyone else could have given him, beyond her reach. Fallen. Gone. Never coming back. Nothing left. Not even a sad corpse to bury in Badon's cemetary with his brothers in arms. Sobs welled up again, fresh, wet ones, though not terribly loud, that Linnette did not attempt to stem. Was there anything more pathetic than the thought of her husband's body lying somewhere, unfound by those who loved him, with no one to know who he was or care what a good man he had been? She turned her face away from the others again- she couldn't just cry barefaced in front of the whole infirmary, and once again hid it in Linnesse's shoulder; Linnesse, snugged neatly in between Linnette and Derfel on the bed, had one arm around each of them and now threw Derfel an anxious glance as she rubbed Linnette's back with the other hand. He was still looking very concerned for her. "I'm all right," she whispered again, though in truth, she was growing increasingly tired- she could have just lain down and slept for the whole night right now! But not while Linnette needed her- she had to stay awake for a while for her sister. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 01:27 AM Post #120 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Tue Apr 08, 2008 8:29 pm Bors and Vanora Bors eyes could not help moving to the group surrounding Dagonet's bed. Yes, he was concerned about Adian, but he felt he had to say something to Linnette. Something meaningful, though he was not a thought provoking conversationalist. Vanora stood next to him, and he knew she was thinking as well about what to do or say. This kept his mind destracted while the healer removed his stitches, drained the injury, cleaned it, then put a hot compress on it to draw out the infection. He squeezed his eyes shut and muttered a good, "Shit that bloody hurts!" The healer only smiled, and left the hot pack on the wound for a while. Bors had to admit it felt ten times better the more infection that drew out of it. He opened his eyes again, and saw them still gathered around Dagonet's bed like a "wake" of some sort...minus the ale. The healer took off the hot pack, and placed an herbal patch over the wound then wrapped it tightly but comfortably. "All better now, Bors," The healer said smiling slightly. "Better for who...." Bors retorted. The healer shrugged and cleaned her area, before moving to another patient. Bors looked up at Vanora, "I need to say something to her, 'Nora. Bloody shame to lose someone you love..." He could not imagine his life without Vanora, but he'd have the happy memories... happy memories.... Bors thought for a moment but could only think of one instance where he had given advice to the nervous groom on their first wedding night together. It was the only memory he had that made him smile at least, and perhaps that was something Linnette needed right now. A good memory.... Slowly, Bors got to his feet with Vanora's help as she whispered, 'Now Bors, say something from the both of us, and make it nice will you?', then moved over to the crowd. "You know me,' Bors whispered back. He came to stand by Linnette and looked at her still not quite knowing what to say....after all he was a warrior, and was not skilled in the art of compassion or meaningful sayings. Finally, Bors cleared his throat, ready to make the meaningfyul phrase he had come up with. His eyes looked from one person to the other when he said, "Ya know, I remember the day you and young Gedeon got married. He came to me asking what he should do on your wedding night," The phrase came out so casually that Bors just stood there as though it was all part of the conversation.... Well, at least it sounded good... Vanora jabbed him in the ribs, and glared at him.... Brendyn By the third mug of the nasty tasting tea, Brendyn was ready to leave the gradually crowding infirmary. There were things he had to do other than drink tea and warm up...he needed to report to Malcus. Tyranus was already settled in for the stay, and he had no doubt that the stallion would be well taken care of by the well trained stable hands. Slowly, and with some pain, Brendyn sat up on the edge of the bed and began to put on his tunic with the help of an aid. He could not raise his left arm very high as the pain there was sharp.... "Well, despite your injuries, I should think that light duty for a while would be a good thing....if they can spare it," The medic said as he approached the bed. The young man had numerous cuts on his legs that would ache a bit, but his left arm needed time to heal. Brendyn stood up from the bed, and looked at the medic who had done a quick efficient job of tending to him. The medic handed Brendyn a small clay jar of healing balm to apply to his wounded arm with instructions on how to care for it. Brendyn nodded his thanks to the medic and his aide, then headed out into the cold of the late afternoon. The first thing in order was to find facilities to relieve himself after all of the tea the medic had given him. He found one, and did what was necessary, before moving on. It was a good time to get to know his surroundings. So far he knew where the infirmary and his quarters and the stables were, but where was the chapel? It would soon be time for evening prayer and to remember those he had lost. His hand went to his ex Commander's sword as the man's words floated through his mind if you should find me dead on the battlefield, take the sword, and put it to good use...better than having it rust and become a treasure for the enemy... The medic and his aide watched the young soldier as he stepped outside without a cloak on...both shook their heads and returned to work. If he did not take care of himself, they'd see him back in the infirmary soon enough... Getting his barrings, Brendyn looked about, and found the place for aquiring a new heavy cloak. He got one, and closed the Roman designed clasp letting it drape warmly about his uniformed body. He stopped outside the doors, and made a mental note of things he had done: Reported in, settled Tyranus into his new surroundings, aquired a bed in the Roman quarters, and saw a medic...now to report to Malcus. Carrying his helmet under his good arm, He made his way to where he had last seen the two men, Titus and Malcus, but neither were there. As he searched, he pulled his cloak about him by holding the sides and pulling them in together to create a shield of sorts against the cold rain and wind. Brendyn had not had a cloak for a while until now, and the heavy cloth made him feel warm though his skin was cold... It was going to be a cold night again. He was hungry after seeing to Arthur instead of eating a good meal. Brendyn could recall only having the stew that the squires had made the night before. His new Commander was important though. Antonius had always told Brendyn that some of his decisions were foolish and irrational, but in this case, it was either eat, or tend to the Commander, which never happened because the man refused help, then he had been sent to meet with the Centurion. Brendyn continued to walk through the slowly disipating crowds in search of the man he was to report to. His stomach rumbled in protest, but he did not want to seem lazy and not report before sitting down to a meal.... It had been a long busy day, and all he could think of was sleep and food. He had not slept well the previous night as faces of his dead comrades filled his mind every time he closed his eyes. The last time he could recall a good night's sleep was a day prior to leaving for battle. He had to look alert and awake, and he forced himself to be so.... |
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