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| May 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 18 2010, 02:23 AM (3,632 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 05:40 PM Post #136 |
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Author: Kay Date: Mon May 12, 2008 2:34 am Guinevere
Guineverre turned to look at the healer and was about to speak when Mona interrupted:
The Woad princess narrowed her eyes. Of course Mona would agree with Connell! This made Giunevere all the more determined. "No" she said, as calmly as possibly. "We will do as I have said. I will instruct two men to accomply us. They can remain with us, and help keep watch for Ash's signal" And before the others could argue the point any further, she strode off to find the men that her father had selected to wait behind. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 05:40 PM Post #137 |
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Author: Ranchera Date: Mon May 12, 2008 7:13 am Connell "If it is as you wish, lady," Connell replied, respectfully as possible. "We must do our best to keep hidden so that their scouts don't detect our presence as we wait." And if they did, their small party would be felled by a few arrows and that would be the sad end of that. Who knew how long Neeria might be held captive before she met a similar or even worse fate at the hands of the Roman guards? Connell fretted internally. He didn't dare look at Mona. He finished what he allowed himself to eat and waited for Guinevere to tell them when they should depart or where they should wait. He still thought they were too dependant on Ash. What if something had happened to him? |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 05:41 PM Post #138 |
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Author: Darya Date: Mon May 12, 2008 9:20 am Darya
The dark Sarmatian listened to her countrymen’s words and a frown creased her brow when Galahad began to talk about what…or who…Arthur had encountered on the battlefield. That big guy. A part of her was dieing to know who that man had been…but deep inside, she did not care. The man was dead…Arthur was here. That was all that counted in the end, was it not? “Did you bring even more…people…back here except that Woad woman?”, she murmured and wrinkled her nose slightly, sniffing quietly as she did so. She was not too keen on the idea of perhaps even more Woads wandering about the Fort. They had had Guinevere and two or so more…and what had it led to? Darya shook her head slightly to herself and then granted herself a moment to regard her fellow Sarmatians. She was honestly glad to see them all…and even more so to see them all alive. One loss – the loss of Gedeon – was already one too much. There were injuries to be dealt with though…Arthur’s, Lancelot’s…Bors'…and Dagonet had not looked well either when they had returned, beside his obvious grief for the loss of his son. The woman let her tongue brush along the line of her upper front teeth while lowering her gaze to automatically watch Tristan smudge around some loose grains… She kneaded her hands idly while her forearms remained propped onto the fence. “Is there any chance the Saxon might come here? Seeking for revenge maybe?”, Darya then asked quietly and glanced up sideways at the three men around her, “…because having to deal with them and the Woads at once might be…bad…” Granted, that was not how she had wanted to express her thoughts, but somehow she could not come up with a better word. She was not afraid of this worst case scenario per se…but knew that it would cost many lives. And the losses of dear ones oddly enough made her feel worse than the idea of her own death. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 05:42 PM Post #139 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Mon May 12, 2008 9:41 am Malcus Barbattus
Malcus watched closely as the optio and the first knight verbally sparred with one another. Amadeus was refined and very good at the 'twist of the tongue' but Malcus saw right through his facade. Amadeus was clever and was therefore very dangerous. Malcus willed Lancelot to stand down, as he was out of his league when it came to the mind games of the snobby Roman. And wow, did Lancelot stink! By the looks of the man and the dirt on his face, Malcus figured the knight hadn't had any sleep and probably no food either since they'd arrived back at the wall. Rule number 4 - Rest! A tired soldier is a stupid soldier and Lancelot was walking a dangerous tightrope with this sneaky, underhanded optio. Finally, Arthur's door opened again. Malcus was relieved, hoping the tension in the hallway would dissipate, although he doubted it.
Malcus pulled up the rear, allowing all the others to file in the room in front of him. The captain noticed his friend still tending his left side although Arthur was the vision of authority and control. "Now commander, what of this issue with the woad prisoner?" Barbattus asked with a raised eyebrow. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 05:45 PM Post #140 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Mon May 12, 2008 11:05 am Derfel
Derfel was glad that Lucius had no aversion to the infirmary and thought to say something further on the subject, but had to side step a stray black cat that suddenly darted across their path. It was late in the morning already and more people were milling about than earlier, likely more confident that the threat of another attack was perhaps less eminent now. It was still miserable weather as well…so perhaps that reason alone kept Merlin and his warriors at bay. “No, Dagonet was tore up in the battle we just returned from fighting….” Derfel looked over at Lucius as they neared the tavern on the way to the infirmary. His gaze easily gave away his concern as he continued to explain. “….I should also tell ya that it was my friend’s son that we were mourning earlier when we bumped into you in the chapel there,” Derfel said slightly gesturing with his hand back towards the chapel.
“Aye, my friend…a strong drink and something hot to fill our bellies…damn miserable weather…” Derfel added with a grump even though he readily grinned over at Lucius. And then Derfel’s new companion finally answered his inquiry about the attacks….
Derfel’s eyebrows arched upwards at the unusual answer from Lucius. “Fed?” Derfel asked a bit surprised for a moment until he remembered the one that Arthur had taken hostage. Perhaps she was the one Lucius was speaking about….unless something else had happened while the knights were off on the mission. Lucius’ other comments about kicking and slapping was curious though. “Oh….that little feisty one that tried to kill the Commander…he spared her for some reason. Unless the Optio took some other prisoners during the attack?” Derfel somewhat explained what he knew at least and wondered what else Lucius could be talking about. The two men had reached the entryway to the infirmary and Derfel led the way up the steps and opened the door. “I’m looking for Dagonet…tall, bald, quiet one…with a belly wound came in yesterday,” Derfel asked a passing attendant who knew immediately who he was looking for and pointed towards the rear of the infirmary. The knight thanked her and headed that way with Lucius at his side. “Ahh…there he is…” Derfel said mostly to himself at spotting Dagonet stretched out on one of the cots agaist the back wall. “Dags….how ye holdin’ up?” Derfel said in a warm greeting to his fellow knight and dear friend. He regarded the older man for a moment, making a quick assessment that Dagonet was indeed on the mend as the color had returned to the man’s face and although his eyes were still filled with sadness…physically, Dagonet looked much improved. “This here is Lucius,” Derfel made the introduction before taking a seat on the side of Dagonet’s bed. Arthur As Arthur reached the table, he turned to await the men to file in after him. Lancelot was the first to his side….close at hand. Their eyes met and Arthur allowed a hint of familiarity in his green eyes; earlier outburst forgiven for now. Lancelot’s close proximity, although the Roman did not wish to admit it right now, was comforting. Lancelot was many things…stubborn, impulsive, rebellious and damn near infuriating at times…but Arthur could not do without him.
“No need…I will manage,” Arthur answered as quietly as Lancelot had inquired. Emerald eyes briefly took note of Lancelot’s dirty face and tired eyes. Arthur would order the other man to rest the moment this meeting was at an end…as there was no way in Hell that Arthur would allow Lancelot to ride out after Merlin. Amadeus and Malcus joined them and thus that mask of strength and honour that Arthur often wore was fully back in place again.
“As I was speaking of moments ago, the ‘prisoner’ agreed to lead us to Merlin in exchange for sparing her life,” Arthur answered Malcus evenly and then as he had done with Linnette, sat down on the edge of the table for a little support, although he kept his back straight and his left hand on his stitched up side. One bare foot slightly dangled above the floor as Arthur shifted to somewhat slide a leather-clad thigh over the lip of the table. “I will gently remind her of our little agreement if you would please bring her to me, Malcus,” Arthur offered a small wry grin at his longtime friend; slightly tilting his head as he explained further. “And if she requires a firmer hand in order to ‘recall’ her promise, then I will trust you to refresh her memory,” Arthur added, knowing Malcus would do what was required without outright brutality…which was not Arthur’s way. He refrained from catching Lancelot’s eye though, knowing his First Knight would deal with the Woad that would only leave her lifeless and completely useless. Not that Arthur could blame Lancelot….but the Commander still intended to keep his part of the bargain fair man that he was. …to a fault some would say. Now this left the matter of which of his officers Arthur would send to negotiate with Merlin on his behalf. “Optio Scipio, how are your diplomatic skills?” Arthur addressed Amadeus directly; piercing green eyes fixed on the other man’s grey. He was not only the logical choice here….but it was also a peace offering from Arthur for Lancelot’s earlier outburst. The Commander pressed the palm of his free hand down on the edge of the table and ran his tongue over the edge of his teeth while he awaited Amadeus’ answer. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 05:50 PM Post #141 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Mon May 12, 2008 3:42 pm Drake
To an onlooker this may have looked a little strange. The little woman trying to hammer a hole in Drake's chest and he able to stop her with barely an ounce of effort. The tendons in his arms flexed and then relaxed when she ceased her efforts to pummel him. He knew that useless kind of anger - except, with men, no one really tried to stop you. In which case you ended up black and blue, or dead because you got into a fight with someone you had underestimated. It was an unconscious gesture from her, but knowing her hand was laid against the armour at his chest made Drake feel... awkward. Not necessarily a bad awkward, but definitely an ... awkward kind of awkward. He tried to ignore it but failed, miserably. His green eyes looked down at her little fingers and goosebumps rose along his arms and back, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Drake tried again - shutting his eyes and gritting his teeth, even going so far as to hold his breath, just to make himself not enjoy holding her like this, having her let him hold her like this. It was not intimate, not really. It was her needing comfort and Drake being the one willing to give it. He couldn't think of it as intimate because it would imply alot more than what Linnette envisioned for them - the way he saw it at least.
A burning anger bubbled up inside of Drake's throat when he heard what it was the Optio had said to Linnette. He could see little red dots and for a moment thought there was something falling in front of him, when he realised it was anger it took all of his energy to not growl. He felt the build up of irritated pressure in his chest and went to great lengths to just let it taper away, to let it slowly ebb from his emotions whilst Linnette took a step back, looking down at her hands. Her pleading eyes lifted to his. Drake's bottle green eyes had been on her hands, the sad red streaks would be stinging he figured. He looked up into her hazel eyes and realised that she was looking to him for some sort of guidance! HIM!? The Spaniard's brow furrowed immediately. He still had his hands on her elbows, not willing to give up that contact just yet - though one hand did lift to his bearded jaw as he thought. What had he done when Cecile had passed? How had he coped with all these conflicting and demanding events and occurrences? Brief flashes of countless hours spent slumped drunk in countless taverns for weeks on end simmered in the back of Drake's mind. Oh. That's right. He had lost himself in the blissful oblivion of alcohol. But that had only added to the hardship in the long run. And it was not the answer - he knew that now. So what did he tell Linnette ? She needed him but he was not good with words - or sentiments, or emotions, or feelings, or anything like what she needed now. Why had he thought he should follow her?! This was just making things worse for her - He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. In a rumbling tone filled with the gentle authority of a man who had once been a father, Drake gently slid his hand from Linnette's elbow to her wrist, looking down at her scraped palms. His smile was a twitch... "Let's start with cleaning this up first." he offered, "Perhaps your room. If you feel up to it - if not my room is just ... " he gestured with a thick finger in the general 'behind' direction from where they stood now. It seemed such a paltry, weak attempt at comforting her but he knew nothing else. He had no magic words that would make things seem more manageable. "One step at a time - " he said, his chin pulling back towards his neck a moment as he used the end of his balled up fist to brush away some of the tears from Linnette's cheek. It didn't seem too intrusive a gesture, or presumptuous, he thought. Had he used his one index finger like he had been intending to it might have been a bit different - but this gesture seemed more ... platonic to him. Galahad
Well, Galahad wasn't complaining that Arthur had taken the man down - of course not. He just wasn't so sure about how delighted they should all be considering the man was Derfel's father. But nonetheless, Galahad would edge around the idea, see how others were handling it and move from there. He was never one to set things in motion, Galahad. He was more a fan of following what the others did. Or more precisely, Gawain.
The youngest Knight snorted in wry amusement at Darya's first question. "We brought no-one back alive, Darya." the Sarmatian corrected, looking down at his stomach, touching the slight bulge where the bandaging was that Alina had so kindly put there. He wondered if the woman had calmed down much since he had left, if rest had done her good, but he didn't feel brave enough to go check right now. Pouting, the knight heaved out a weary sigh and shrugged, looking at Tristan with narrowed blue eyes to see what he thought about the chances of Saxons turning up at Badon were. "I can't imagine the woads and Saxons could find common ground at all... The Saxons kill everything." the man said precisely, his lips smacking on the last word, his thumb and index finger tightly pressed together in a swift gesture to demonstrate the brutal efficiency of the Saxon army. Catherine Catherine should have been smiling. She had two dresses held tight to her chest beneath her cloak as she hurried through the rain towards the infirmary. She had been relatively lucky to find two dresses that would fit, though she had not been surprised. Her mother tended to keep items, clothing and shoes and odds and ends. For whatever reasons... this was one of those reasons. When the whore had told her mother of the two orpaned girls in the infirmary she had insisted that Catherine bring them the dresses immediately, and so the other item she had tucked away in her pouch would have to wait. She wasn't sure if she was ever going to see Gawain again. She didnt know if she would have the courage to approach him either - but in case she did she was prepared. A peace offering. It felt ... sickening to think that he was angry with her for being what she was. Catherine aimed to please men, not repulse and repel them. The blonde ducked into the infirmary and looked around as she pushed the cloak back from her head. Her hazy green eyes spotted the two girls where they had been the night before and she swanned down there as if she had every right. Smiling, though her heart wasn't in it, Catherine winked at the older girl and draped a soft hand on Fleur's shoulder. "Hello girls - remember me?" she asked in her chiming, sing-song voice. Pushing open her cloak, Catherine pulled the two dresses out and laid them on the bed, "And I brought you each a gift - a lovely dress! What do you think of this then, hmm Fleur?" Catherine asked, lifting the smaller of the two. Though her heart was really not in it - she was too distracted by Sarmatians and thoughts of Knights! Amadeus Amadeus missed the dog asking his master if he could manage. He would have been greatly amused, no doubt. As it was the Optio followed Barbattus into the Commander's room, satisfied he was getting his work done. Satisfied that he had a plan in mind to turn events around to his benefit. Whatever the cost he had to have Arthur's trust a little longer, just a little bit longer. Then he would overthrow him and rid Badon Hill of it's Sarmatian infestation.
And this was it! Amadeus was listening to Arthur with his lips pursed in interest and intense thought. He nodded where appropriate but otherwise kept an intense eye on Arthur and his condition. He knew the man was injured - but not how badly. The healer earlier had let it slip well and good that the injury was not a minor thing. How could he use this injury against Arthur? There seemed little honour in taking down a wounded animal, so Amadeus could wait a while, and he could wait happily if Arthur was truly thinking of sending him to negotiate with Merlin. The Optio perked up at the mention of his name - though he tried to hide his satisfaction in being the chosen one. He kept an awareness of Lancelot of course, watching him out of the corner of his shrewd grey eyes. A whisper of a smile flittered across this thin lips as he cleared his throat, casting an idle glance at Barbattus then back to Arthur. "I have been told that they are exceptional, Commander. My tutor was also the tutor of Bishop Germanius back in his younger years. I have negotiated between councils and divisions many-a-time." the man said non-chalantly. He was not about to admit that he had never negotiated with an armed enemy. He had no doubt he was capable of it though - more capable than the cretins that surrounded him at least. "You can trust me with this, Commander. This is why Rome sent me." the Optio said confidently, gently tossing a bit of salt in Lancelot's wounds, reminding all in the room, once again, that Amadeus was chosen by Rome. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 05:52 PM Post #142 |
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Author: Unicorn Date: Mon May 12, 2008 4:01 pm Dagonet Dagonet's body, mind and heart were so tormented that they had no more power to produce any bad dream in his head. For which he should be glad.... as he would not dare to wake after seeing Gedeon or his death again. Nothing in particular had awaken him, but with focus and returning to awerness came pain to his side. He wanted only to sleep now... only this brought him some little comofort. But instead of a dream more pain came to him. The wound was healing probably and that was why it hurted.... He really hoped so. Because with infection he would be not so sure of being alright again ever. His strenghts were lost there on the battlefield and if he won't gather them now, he won't gather them never again. Once he awaken completely he turned his head to look on the other side of his bed, hoping to see Saoirse siting by him. But she was not there.... He blinked his eyes couple of times... His eyelids still heavy and tired. He wanted to move a little to feel his body, but those efforts made his body ache even more. So he just was there, laying on the bed without strengths to even stand up. His mind returned to the conversation he had with Saoirse...and realised once more the terror of staying alive. The terror of facing day after a day without Gedeon and his supportive presence. But also the future that he wanted to look forward to. After the duty for Rome... The loving future with Saoirse. This was too much to think off. He closed his eyes once and allowed him one more tear to go down his cheek, to trace his scar. Gedeon was death..... This was the most hurtful thing he had ever expirenced in his life.
Slowly Dagonet oppened his eyes at the sound of familiar voice. The tall knight wanted to attempt a small smile at his friend but corners of his mouth didn't even twitch an inch. There too much heavy weight in him to smile now. Dagonet saw the regarding look upon Derfel's face but he choose to ignore it, instead to look at the newcomer by the young knight.
Dagonet only gave the man a nod and turned his gaze upon Derfel who sitted himself on the side of his bed. "I felt better, my friend" he answered at Derfel's question. He still breathed the air of unwanted reality... Still he was alive. And still he was afraid of facing further life... His body was hurted and it pained him much.. but the real problem was in his mind and heart. The real pain was much more deeper than anybody could see. "How.... is Linnette? Did you take care of her?" he asked with concern and a little tremble of emotions in his voice. It should be him taking care of her, not anybody else. In the moment he wanted to speak further pain grasped his body a little tighter and he had to close his with a silent wince to overcome this. He hated to show these kind of weakness in front of anybody, but he could not help it now. This was too much to take. "Is there Saoirse anywhere in the room?" he asked oppening his eyes slowly again. He needed her so much... only to look upon her made him a little calmer, or he thought it would. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 05:52 PM Post #143 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Mon May 12, 2008 4:08 pm Ione She finished pampering herself which she felt she needed after all that had happened, and redressed, then took her long auburn hair and loosly braided it so that it hung over one shoulder. Ione's stomach rumbled, but nothing really sounded good, and the only things that sounded good were things she did not normally eat. Looking about the room once more, Ione left it feeling that if she took a walk in the fresh cold morning air, it'd give her an appitite. She grabbed her heavy cloak she had made herself last Autumn, and flung it over her shoulders. Ione felt a bit closed in and needed to get out and think... ...She opened the door, stepped out then closed and locked it securely behind her. Ione stopped and took a deep breath of the morning air even though it was raining, it felt good to be outside. The young weaver began to walk...where to? She didn't know, but perhaps she'd run into her friends she had not talked to since she had been back. Sometimes one just needed a friend to talk to and share a good laugh... |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 06:00 PM Post #144 |
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Author: Lancelot Date: Mon May 12, 2008 6:34 pm Lancelot
Lancelot dropped the hand he'd briefly touched Arthur's elbow with, and his arrow-shot arm twinged as he did so. He nodded at Arthur as his face pinched, but he merely sucked in a breath and ignored his arm. He'd had much worse, and the bandaging Neeve had done was keeping it nice and trouble free. Until Lancelot got to the baths, and got a chance to actually examine it in private, he'd pretend it wasn't there. Barbattus asked the question Lancelot had about the Woad girl, and Arthur, sitting on his table, answered in a way that had Lancelot wanting to groan and sink his head into his hands.
Should have killed the damn scrawny blue thing the second Arthur had his back turned. Malcus of course would do what Arthur asked - as would have Lancelot. And in some small way, the Sarmatian knew Arthur was right in choosing his old friend to retrieve the girl. She would definitely end up in Arthur's quarters alive this way. But what was the commander going to do about...
Because Arthur's barbarian dog couldn't negotiate the way Rome wished? Lancelot's rage reared its head again, but he canted his eyes from Arthur to Amadeus, and slumped into a free chair. Why bother? Why let things get to him that he could not change? And perhaps if Arthur sent this other Roman to the Magician, perhaps...send a fool on a foolish errand. Perhaps...Rome wouldn't send another Optio if something happened to this one. Lancelot of course would have nothing to do with that - but if luck smiled on him - a frown creased his face and he crossed one lean leg over the other, his leathers squeaking as he moved. By the gods, he was tired. And if he was tired, imagine how Arthur - Gawain - Dags - even the pup - the others that had been injured must be as wavering as he himself was. "Watch that girl, Barbattus," Lancelot sighed. "She's - bitey." |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 06:02 PM Post #145 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Mon May 12, 2008 7:46 pm Malcus Barbattus
Malcus looked at Arthur and let the information sink in slowly. The captain wasn’t buying one single word of this tale about a turning in Merlin. He’d sooner believe pigs would sprout wings and fly than to fall for that one. But friend or not, Arthur was Malcus’ superior officer and he would never question his authority in front of others. Particularly the sneaky optio. Malcus stole a glance at the smarmy man and involuntarily pursed his lips as though he smelled something bad.
“Of course commander, it will be done as you wish. But I’m sure a firm hand will not be necessary. I handled her myself last night and she’s a whipped dog. Unfortunately I had the task of punishing a guard for trying to take her forcefully. I’m sure I acted on your behalf in inflicting my own form of justice for his dishonor of duty.” Malcus was confident that he would handle the woad woman without incident. He was still slightly unnerved that the younger woad had gotten close enough to him to actually brandish his own weapon, but he assured himself that would never happen again.
“Germanius?” Malcus bellowed. what a frog!! The captain composed himself quickly. Germanius was the steaming cow turd that Malcus had the misfortune of running into on a few occasions. Barbattus was starting to realize why he didn’t take very well to the optio. Germanius was everything Roman that Barbattus hated. The captain turned his attention back to Arthur. “If you don’t require anything further from me, I’ll retrieve the girl now, commander.”
Malcus, knowing Lancelot was a tease and trying to lighten his mood a bit, knitted his brow and gave a sinister grin, “ah, yes my dark friend, but unbeknownst to her, I bite back.” With a slight bow, Malcus turned toward the door to go retrieve the prisoner. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 06:03 PM Post #146 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Mon May 12, 2008 7:55 pm Tristan
"Hhmmmhph." That grunt from Tristan was one of grim agreement, as he detached himself from the fence with a small push and went forward to idly stroke Tirtgatao's coat again. Nice and smooth- a fine horse indeed, and none the worse for his experiences in battle. Listening with half an ear to the rest of the conversation, but not looking at any of the other three for the moment, Tristan bent to examine the animal's hooves, looking over the first one in detail and also noticing how calm Tirgatao was, even though this was a rather unusual time and place to be looking at his hooves. Very promising...very promising indeed. Linnette and Linnesse
"Yours. I don't think there's any water in mine," Linnette murmurred in response to his offer, her eyes still on her scraped hands, which stung fiercely now. How could she have done that to herself- caused so much pain without even realizing it, or even thinking it was a good thing? It was like she had been mad, completely crazy, and now it was fading away, leaving only confused memories and physical marks. And exhaustion. And still too much to do. But...one step at a time. And cleaning up her hands was as good a place as any to start. Sighing with something like resignation, she dropped her arms and raised her head a little- and at that minute, Drake's hand came out, incongruously balled into a fist, and carefully brushed some of the tears off of her cheek. With the side of his fist. It was such an odd gesture, so unexpected, in its method, at least, that Linnette could not help but crack a tiny hint of an amused smile. Just a twitch upwards of one corner of her mouth- but it was there. It felt odd to smile- but not bad. They turned and walked in the direction Drake had indicated as the way to his room, Linnette staying half a step behind, as she did not know where they were going. It became clear, though, after short time, that they were going to pass Linnesse and Derfel's room, and as they did so, Linnette held up her hand to Drake, indicating that they should stop for a moment. One thing, perhaps, from her list of worries, she could satisfy now. And it turned out that there was indeed one sigh of relief that Linnette could safely make. On carefully, very quietly, pushing open the door of Linnesse's quarters, Linnette was heartened to see her sister asleep on the bed, sound asleep, well tucked into the blankets, with the fire crackling softly and a full glass of water beside her on the bed table. That was good- one less thing to worry about for now. "She's asleep," Linnette murmurred by way of explanation as she shut the door again and turned back to Drake, gesturing for him once more to lead the way. It was only a short way more down the corridor- to the second-to-the-last door on this side- and then Drake was pushing down the latch and opening what was apparently the entrance to his room. Linnette hung back a little, waiting for him to enter first- she felt a certain reluctance to broach his private space, even for such a utilitarian purpose as they intended. Perhaps because Drake seemed to be such a very private person- in any case, Linnette hesitated back in the hallway, peering around the doorpost for a beat and waiting for some small, visible sign that she shoud come in. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 06:04 PM Post #147 |
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Author: sabor ice Date: Mon May 12, 2008 10:55 pm Cassidy & Fleur Time passed, as did people - none of whom paid much mind to two lone little girls. But, why would they be noticed? They were nobody's children, nobody's responsibility. Had it not been for the charity of a few strangers, they might've been dead, but what if they would've been better off? They were forgotten. Even this God whose righteous words their mother had fed Cassidy seemed to have abandoned her, and her sister. If God was so good, then how could he abandon children, how could he let children be abandoned? There was no truth left for Cassidy to believe in anymore. She had been nothing but lied to. Everything was a lie.
Yes, even Catherine's warm sincerity and generosity was a lie. To Cassidy at least. Another person to pity the unfortunate circumstances she and her sister were forced to live under. Fleur was already excited by Catherine's gift, wrestling to shimmy out of her make-shift dress in order to don on her new one. She just didn't know any better, Cassidy decided. Fleur was blinded with fancies of princesses and butterflies and cake - she wasn't mature enough to comprehend Catherine's act of good-will as a charitable ploy like Cassidy did. Did people think she was dim-witted? Or did they just enjoy throwing salt onto her wounds, rubbing it in that she and her sister had nothing? Rage boiled beneath the twelve year old's stoic exterior, fueling the rebellious side of her out of submission. She thoughtlessly retrieved a bowl of cold, half-eaten soup from the nightstand and slopped it over the dress meant for her. Fleur gave a start at her sister's surprising and somewhat terrifying reaction, her blue eyes widening in shock and incomprehension, as she instinctively jumped down off of the bed and clung to Catherine's waist. "We don't need your help," Cassidy spat scornfully at the blonde whore, her youthful face screwed up into a scowl. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 06:07 PM Post #148 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Tue May 13, 2008 3:10 am Drake
Damn. Drake knew what his room looked like right this minute. It looked abandonned because ... it was. All of his possessions were in the saddlebags thrown against a wall back down the hall. Would it be obvious to Linnette that he had been leaving? Would he be able to fob it off perhaps? He had just been moved to the room afterall, due to the barracks disaster too. But still, the bed didn't even have a sheet on it - it was just a miserable, thin straw mattress, evident because of the twigs of straw sticking out! The Spaniard nodded his head solemnly at Linnette and gestured for her to walk on ahead, he would escort her the right way. However, as he deftly brushed her cheek like a father might a child's, Linnette's lips twitched upwards. Almost a smile, but not quite. The soldier watched her mouth a little longer than was necessary, just to see if she would make that final dive and smile truly. But it was too much to expect when such heartache was so fresh. They set off down the corridor. It felt odd to be bringing a woman to his room. He didn't like people being in his space even though there was nothing in it to say it was his. Drake managed to get most of the way to his room without looking back over his shoulder to see how the small woman fared. His boots sounded heavy and resounding in the corridors which were emptying now as men went about their business outside the fortress. Rebuilding the barracks no doubt. When Linnette lifted her hand, Drake heard the rustle of her dress, and whipped his head around in alarm. He saw her hand lifted and looked behind her, behind him, then realised what was going on. She gestured to the door and he visibly relaxed. Oh. That was all. The Spaniard's jaw tensed - and as Linnette peeked in the door, he shut his eyes, composing himself, making himself promise not to be so on edge. She was small, she was fragile, but she was not about to shatter into a thousand pieces right there in front of him. She was not going to combust if he took his eyes off of her for two minutes. She was not going to end up with her limbs hacked and her stomach torn ...
Drake looked down at Linnette and gave her a slight nod. He appreciated her interrupting his list of all the things that weren't going to happen to her. He was surely losing his mind now, to think that Linnette could somehow end up like Cecile... Squaring his shoulders, Drake led the rest of the way to his room. He pushed up the latch and walked inside, flinching at the echo of his boots in the tiny, empty room. With a wry grin, he looked around and realised that, even when his things had been in here it had looked rather like this. Empty. He walked over to the wash-stand and took the towel that was draped there. Removing his cloak with one hand, he tossed the water he had used that morning out the window with the other. He put the cloak on the bed messily and refilled the little cracked bowl with what was left in the pitcher before realising that Linnette had not come in. Drake looked over his shoulder first, then took a step back to see around the half cracked door to where Linnette stood, craning her neck. He lifted his eyebrows and turned to face her, the bowl of water in one large hand, the towel hanging from his clutched fingers beneath it. He gave a tense smile, feeling awkward, and gestured with his bandaged hand towards the room. "Come in." he said in a rumbling tone of voice. When she did step into the room, Drake walked over behind her, giving the door a bit of a kick to keep it half cracked. It didn't seem right to be in his bedroom alone with a recently widowed woman and have the door shut. He walked back to the bed and put the bowl down on the little table beside it. There were no chairs in the room - just the bed, the washstand, nightstand and the worm-eaten clothes chest at the foot of the bed. Clearing his throat, Drake put the cloth into the water adn stood back... frowned, and came forward again. He had been going to let Linnette do it herself but with her two hands injured that would prove difficult. Tensing his jaw, Drake glanced into her hazel eyes a moment - "This ok?" he asked, taking up the cloth, making sure that she was ok with him doing the cleaning before laying his hand on her. His heart was invisibly thudding hard in his chest. There was something unspeakable to him about Linnette's hands - he had noted that at their very first meeting, how soft her hands were, how small. It was those hands that reminded him of his wife, that had reminded him he had had good times with Cecile, that had made him remember her as more than a bleeding half-corpse on a bed. And now he was going to have ... hold those hands whilst moppng up the little abrasions there. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 06:09 PM Post #149 |
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Author: Eledhwen Date: Tue May 13, 2008 11:09 am Bors Bors watched the exchange between Darya and the young knight, noting with amusement Tristan's involvement, or lack of it. Bors' leg was killing him, and all he wanted to do at that minute was lie down and rest... maybe have Vanora give him a massage... He smirked at the thought, closing his eyes for a moment at the memory of the night before. Still life in the old dog yet... he chuckled to himself, before lifting himself carefully off the fence to the ground so as not to give away any tell-tale signs of his injury. "Well," he grumbled good-naturedly, "we can't all stand around all day gossiping like a load of ol' women." Turning away from the small group, he bit his lip and frowned as he concentrated on walking without a limp. "I'll see ya later," he raised a hand in farewell. "I might letcha beat me at a round of knife throwing in the tavern Tris!" He grinned at the thought of the expression on the dark man's face, and walked stiff-backed back out into the rain, intent on finding somewhere quiet to nash his teeth in peace. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 06:10 PM Post #150 |
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Author: Kay Date: Tue May 13, 2008 11:24 am Guinevere Guinevere strode through the trees, toward the clearing where the Woads had set up camp. One solitary tent remained and the sound of raucous singing was coming from just behind it. The Woad princess approached the tent and peered inside; it was empty. She walked around to the back of the canvas structure and there were the five men that her father had left behind to assist the rescue plan; they were drunk. "Ish the prin..the prin..G'vere" one of them slurred, raising his wine skin in salute. "Ish the job done then?" One of the men staggered toward her, his arms outstretched. "Gissakiss darlin'" he cried. Guinevere felt the rage building inside her and her hand instinctively went to the sword at her waist. "C'mon" he insisted and made a clumsy grab for her. The ring of metal against metal sounded through the air as Guinevere drew her sword and with a single swing, removed the drunken man's head. It hit the floor in a spray of blood and the remaining men suddenly went quiet. "How dare you!" she raged. "Drunk when you should be alert and awaiting your orders! My father will not be best pleased with you" Guinevere fetched a length of rope from the tent and trussed up the men, who were too insensible to resist. In fact, they seemed to think it some kind of game. "I will come back for you!" she spat, she turned on her heel and walked swiftly away, suddenly aware that her face, and the front of her disguise were splattered with the dead man's blood. |
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