| Welcome to Na The Past. We hope you enjoy your visit. You're currently viewing our forum as a guest. This means you are limited to certain areas of the board and there are some features you can't use. If you join our community, you'll be able to access member-only sections, and use many member-only features such as customizing your profile, sending personal messages, and voting in polls. Registration is simple, fast, and completely free. Join our community! If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
| May 2008 | |
|---|---|
| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 18 2010, 02:23 AM (3,631 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 06:11 PM Post #151 |
![]()
|
Author: Darya Date: Tue May 13, 2008 12:15 pm Darya
Darya frowned slightly at Galahad and sucked on her lower lip for a moment. She knew exactly what the youngest knight was referring to when he deliberately emphasized the word 'we'. No doubt if any of the knights had been in charge, no Woad or whatsoever except those who had left the Fort in the first place, would have returned alive. Arthur, however, was different. Sometimes, the female Sarmatian thought he was the conscience of all of them…but in the times of war, she sometimes would prefer for the Roman to not mercy with every damn Woad that crossed his path. Darya was simply afraid that one day, this mercy would get him killed. One day, an enemy would misuse this mercy and manage to get close enough to the Commander to end his life. The dark-haired clenched her teeth and shut her eyes for a moment…once more trying to shove her dark thoughts aside… “I know…”, she then sighed, referring to Galahad’s first words, “…I know…” Then Darya paused and brushed a strand of hair out of her still rather dirty face. “And even with the Woads and the Saxons not finding a common ground at all…there’s always the chance of both tribes attacking on their own, isn’t there? Yet what I gather from your words is that the Saxons are even worse? Just…great…”, she added and grimaced slightly before another thought struck her. “How…how did Derfel manage? Having to face his own kinsmen…?”, the dark-haired wondered. In all truth, she could not even imagine the blonde knight betraying Badon’s people…but in the heat of a battle, all kind of things could happen. That she knew from her own experience…
With that, Darya’s head whipped around and she once more arched an eyebrow at Bors as the burly knight slowly limped away. “Who’s the old one here, Bors?”, she teased the man and smirked slightly as she did so before casting a questioning glance at Tristan and Galahad. It was not like Bors to retreat from a conversation so soon… Perhaps his obviously injured leg was causing him more trouble than he wanted to admit… |
![]() |
|
| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 06:12 PM Post #152 |
![]()
|
Author: SarmatianKnight Date: Tue May 13, 2008 12:44 pm Lucius Lucius listened carefully what Derfel said about his friend - Dagonet - and made sure to remember all the improtant details. The last thing he wanted was to drop a brick because he did not listen well and asked for the wrong people in the man's presence or something similar. His father had taught him well to listen. Always. Everywhere. And then think, son, before you open your young mouth to speak. Although the situation was not funny the memory of his father brought a small smile to Lucius' face. He nodded and following his father's advice he remained silent although he wanted to ask if that man they were going to visit was Roman, Sarmatian or... whatever Derfel was. Another thing he would have to ask later.
Now Lucius looked at Derfel. He had not seen any other prisoners, really but could hardly tell if that was the truth then because he had been busy elsewhere, not really paying attention about prisoners until he had seen the one who had been treated like an animal by the men. "She tried to kill Arthur Castus?" He sounded surprised. Somehow he had never ever thought about someone trying to kill a Roman Commander. Of course that was childish and stupid but well, in his opinion the army existed to do good things and help, so people should love them, shouldn't they? How odd. Trying to kill the Commander. But then, things were often different from what they seemed to be like. "And now he wants to return the favour..." They reached the infirmary and found the man called Dagonet. Lucius waited patiently until Derfel had greeted him and introduced them. He tried not to stare at him because he looked bad. Worse than bad to be honest but that was certainly no surprise. Lucius knew how it was to lose family. He returned the nod with a smile. "My deepest sympathy for what happened to your son." What else could he say? Nothing. Dagonet asked for someone - Saoirse. Lucius had the feeling that Derfel was most needed at the man's side at the moment so he offered immediatly: "Shall I go and find her?" - forgetting the fact that he had no idea who she was or how she looked like. He just wanted to be of any help. |
![]() |
|
| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 06:13 PM Post #153 |
![]()
|
Author: LadyCastus Date: Tue May 13, 2008 1:32 pm Mona Mona drained the last of the soup and licked her lips. "mmmm, that was delicious. I feel better already," she purred. "Maybe your suggestion of eating wasn't such a bad one after all, healer" she said to Connell. Mona looked toward the direction Guinevere had gone, stomping into the woods like the spoiled brat she was, to find more men to aid in the rescue. Mona thought it ridiculous and Guinevere was disobeying Merlin's orders. Maybe a boar will eat her, Mona thought with a chuckle. It would serve her right! Turning her attention back to Connell, Mona stared at the quiet man and drank in his appearance. The healer sat quietly nibbling on his bread, and appeared to try to avoid eye contact with Mona. He is a strange one, but I need him, she thought to herself. Now with Guinevere had gone, fool that she was, Mona decided that it might be a good time to gain Connell's trust. The woad walked over to where he sat and sat down next to him - so close that her thigh touched his. Mona leaned over to Connell so that her mouth was very close to his ear. He smelled of medicine and animals. "What is it about Neeria that drives you so, Connell? Why would you risk your life for a woad?" she whispered. Before the healer could answer, Guinevere suddenly appeared. She was outraged, sword unsheathed - and bloody! Mona, despite herself, gasped and jumped up, unsheathing her own blade. She saw the side of Guinevere's face splattered with blood. For a split second, Mona was prepared to fight, thinking Guinevere had been injured. Mona's eyes flashed as she rushed up to the princess. "What happened?" Mona screamed. Titrus Titrus closed the door to the small room that housed the woad prisoners behind him after he walked out. "All's well in there," he reported to the guards outside the door. "Make sure you check them throughout their stay here. Commander Castus or Captain Barbattus should be sending word soon with instructions." "Oye, sir," the skinny prickly-faced guard responded. Titrus walked back into the infirmary and saw that Brendyn was being tended to. At least that was done. Titrus thought back to the little deaf woad prisoner. He believed that the little girl understood what he said to her. He wasn't sure, and it was probably just his imagination, but he thought the girl even tried to repeat his name. Of course she didn't! Bah! Still, there was something about her...or perhaps it was because he was a father of 4 daughters that tugged at his heart to see a little girl who had been hurt so badly. Titrus' jaw clenched at thought of what had been done to the child and how she'd been tossed in a filthy cell without clothes. Titrus felt the anger boil in him. She's not your daughter! She's a woad! She is the enemy! his rational mind yelled at him. On impulse, Titrus shoved open the doors of the infirmary and stormed outside. He hoped he could get done what he had in mind before Malcus showed up. He rushed out into the commons and down a narrow alleyway before disappearing around a corner. |
![]() |
|
| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 06:15 PM Post #154 |
![]()
|
Author: golden_trillium Date: Tue May 13, 2008 4:33 pm Linnette
Linnette peered farther around the doorway and then stepped fully inside the room, rather surprised that her original, half-glimpsed impression of its contents was, in fact, correct. The small sleeping room was virtually empty- aside from the pitcher of water and the towel that Drake was holding, it might not have been occupied at all. It had, of course, the same basic furniture that all the rooms in the fort were provided with, but absolutely nothing else- not even a covering on the prickly-looking straw mattress. Nothing personal at all. For a second she was completely confused by that, and wondered if Drake, seeking to preserve propriety somehow, had not led her to his actual sleeping quarters at all- but then she remembered the saddlebags he had been carrying, and how he had said that he, too, had had to move because of the damage to the barracks. This must be his new room, then- just assigned. And he hadn't even brought the bags with him, she realized- he must have left them in the corridor. "Mmm...it'll be nice when it's fixed up a little," she remarked gamely, trying to be encouraging as she looked around at the rather beat-up furniture. Meeting Drake's eyes again, she attempted a smile for the second time since Drake had pulled her away from her efforts to beat up the wall- and this one came out a little broader, just a bit. Oddly enough, the lack of personal effects made her more comfortable, she realized- it took away much of the feeling of invading his private space, of being where she shouldn't. This wasn't anyone's room- no one slept here, as yet.
Drake, still standing before her, had dipped the cloth in the water and was now hovering it over her hands questioningly, as though asking whether she wanted him to do the honors, or do it herself. She made a soft sound of assent and lifted her hands up a bit higher, towards the cloth, and where they could both see them clearly in the light from the window. The scratches across them were angry red, with a few little bits of dirt or whatever ground in. The water, when it touched the scratches, stung a bit and seemed very cold, and she caught her breath, though more with surprise than pain. Drake, though, seemed to tense on her intake of breath, and she looked up at him again to see the muscles along his jaw line twitch visibly, his lips pressed in a line so thin it almost disappeared, his teeth obviously clenched. He did that a lot, she realized vaguely- he was very, very, intense about small things. "Don't break your teeth," she told him softly, lowering her eyes and then looking back up at him through the lashes, a bit of a laugh now in her voice. It was a small attempt at a joke, and it felt funny to laugh, or almost laugh, with tears still drying on her cheeks- but it came nevertheless. |
![]() |
|
| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 06:17 PM Post #155 |
![]()
|
Author: Elessars Girl Date: Tue May 13, 2008 8:16 pm Arthur Arthur had felt the small contact at his elbow from Lancelot minutes ago, but discreetly overlooked it as the other men had joined them. But for a brief moment, the Roman questioned Lancelot’s motives. And would the knight attempt to steal away behind Arthur’s back and seek out his revenge on Merlin again? How far would Lancelot go this time?
Arthur keenly listened as Amadeus responded; eyebrows only slightly lifting at the mention of Germanius, a man that had been a friend to Arthur’s father. Scipio was certainly giving the impression that he possessed the skills for the task….but the crafty Woad leader was no Roman delegate or counselor. This would be no typical Roman dominated negotiation.
Arthur lifted a hand to lightly rub two finders over his lips as he thought. Malcus, in the mean time had responded in regards to the prisoner and Arthur gave a brief nod in acknowledgement. However, a small frown filled Arthur’s expression at hearing about the misconduct of one of the men. “Yes, of course, Malcus,” Arthur answered in approval of Barbattus’ management of the girl and the dishonorable act of the soldier. Malcus was a man of merit and Arthur trusted his long time friend’s judgment in such matters. The Commander had also noted Lancelot’s movement as his lieutenant left his side to occupy a nearby chair, but kept his gaze focused on Amadeus. This is why Rome sent me. That particular statement seemed out of place to Arthur…yet as shrewd emerald eyes studied Amadeus’ confident expression and body language….Perhaps he is less the arrogant fool that he had appeared earlier. Then Arthur’s side pained him again and his ability to focus wavered; his head slightly dipped for a moment as if deep in thought. But in truth, Arthur fought to calm the twinge in his side and the sheer exhaustion threatening to overtake his senses. He was still quite weak despite his attempts to ignore and conceal it.
Lancelot finally interjected with an opinion…but on nothing of value for Arthur. Thus he ignored the brief exchange and re-focused on Amadeus.
The bravado in Malcus’ voice basically handed Arthur his decision. If he could not deal with Merlin himself, and Amadeus was still unproven, then Arthur would also send Malcus. “Malcus, you will accompany Optio Scipio,” Arthur stated as he turned his attention to Barbattus. “Your previous experiences with Merlin will be useful,” The Commander held Malcus’ gaze for a moment silently conveying his need for his old friend’s aid on this crucial errand. Malcus was already heading towards the door to follow out Arthur’s orders and the Commander gave a curt nod in approval. “The two of you will take the girl after I have spoken with her,” Arthur continued while returning his focus on Amadeus. He lifted his chin and deeply exhaled before continuing, confident that this was the best scenario under the circumstances. But guilt at not being capable of fulfilling his duty quickly began to gnaw at Arthur’s gut. And only then did he dare a glance in Lancelot’s direction. |
![]() |
|
| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 06:18 PM Post #156 |
![]()
|
Author: linnet Date: Tue May 13, 2008 9:11 pm Gawain The armory was drafty and cold. The rainy weather insured that scant light was available through the few small windows high up on the stone walls. It was enough however for Gawain to locate the collection of knights’ armor and weapons that had been brought here after they returned yesterday. Each knight’s things were in a separate space, due to Jol’s familiarity with Arthur’s Sarmatian cavalrymen. The blond knight picked up the axe which had most recently been planted in the chest of a Woad hell-bent on rescuing the girl who was determined to share Arthur’s saddle. Damnest thing. It really wasn’t funny at the time, but Gawain chuckled now as he pictured the scrawny creature clinging to Arthur like a leech. Straddling a wooden bench, the knight used one of the cloths available to wipe the axe blade clean. Some spots had hard, caked on stuff that would only come off when he scraped them with his fingernails. Bits of Woad or bits of Saxon. The end products of his occupation. He wasn’t in the mood to get philosophical about killing, or about life and death and why he had once again survived when stronger and smarter and better men had died. Instead he concentrated on the physical task at hand. He cleaned and polished, and inspected to make sure his weapons were still sturdy and once again battle-ready. He hefted the heavy axe and his mace with his left arm, knowing he needed to build up his strength there in case his right arm didn’t get back to normal. After he finished with his own things, he picked up Galahad’s battle sword. He went to work carefully cleaning it too, not as a favor to his friend, but to keep occupied. And after all, this sword had saved his life. Gawain didn’t have a sword. He’d never really taken to swords, preferring bludgeoning weapons and close-in hand to hand fighting. But as he worked on Galahad’s sword, he admired the fine metalwork and the razor sharp blade. He could see the advantages of the weapon, but he knew he didn’t have the finesse to use this sword, or one like Tristan’s, or Lancelot’s. His mind started to work on the idea of a sword that would suit his style. It would have to be shorter, and broader, heavier, more for hacking and gutting than for slashing and stabbing at a distance. He was building a picture in his mind of such a weapon. He decided that when he finished in the armory, he would go visit the metal smith. He needed to have a new metal armor band made to replace the one that the Saxon had smashed to smithereens on his arm. They could also talk about his sword idea, which had the blond knight feeling some enthusiasm. At least for the time being, working in the armory was giving Gawain some purpose, and taking his mind off the things he was trying to avoid. |
![]() |
|
| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 06:19 PM Post #157 |
![]()
|
Author: golden_trillium Date: Wed May 14, 2008 6:31 am Tristan
"Yeah, all right," Tristan muttered good-naturedly, with a small smirk and a roll of his eyes as Bors heaved himself off the fence and began to stump away. Let him...as if. Tristan was the hands-down best knife thrower of the knights, or indeed of anyone in the fort. It wasn't something he bragged about, but he knew it well. Not that Bors was bad, of course- he just wasn't as good at Tristan. That was the way it was.
Darya, despite her rather teasing words, shot a rather worried glance over at Tristan and Galahad as Bors left the riding arena, and Tristan knew that she, too, had noticed the older knight's limp, or rather, obvious efforts not to limp. His leg must be hurting him- but he was not looking for sympathy, unless he intended to get it from Vanora, perhaps. Tristan set down Tirgatao's hoof and stepped away from the horse with another pat to its well-brushed coat, and met Darya's eyes and gave her a shrug at the same time. Bors would be all right, it seemed to say- he was hurting, but he would be all right. |
![]() |
|
| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 06:21 PM Post #158 |
![]()
|
Author: Elessars Girl Date: Wed May 14, 2008 7:09 am Derfel
Derfel offered a gentle smile at the older knight, sympathetic to the man’s situation. But Dagonet was in the best place he could be right now….and his physical wounds would heal.
“She seems to be holdin’ up. We saw to her just a bit ago…seems Arthur had called for her…but I’ll be sure she’s looked after,” Derfel answered Dagonet’s inquery about Linnette. But Saoirse he had not seen when he and Lucius had come into the infirmary. And while Lucius offered his condolences, Derfel glanced around in search of the red head.
“Don’t see her, Dag,” Derfel frowned while still craning his neck back over his shoulder attempting to spot Saoirse. Surely Dagonet’s lover was close though.
“If ya wouldn’t mind, Lucius, I’m sure she’s ‘round here close,” Derfel looked up at the kind man from where he sat on Dagonet’s bed. “She’s a lovely young red head if you haven’t met her yet,” He added with a smile. Saoirse should be easy enough to spot….or so he hoped. “Was she not here whey you woke up?” Derfel asked Dagonet to be sure they didn’t need to look any further than the infirmary. But of course, he’d go fetch the young lady from wherever she was if Dagonet asked him to. |
![]() |
|
| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 06:23 PM Post #159 |
![]()
|
Author: LadyCastus Date: Wed May 14, 2008 9:24 am Malcus Barbattus, Titrus, and Neeria
The captain didn’t miss a beat and nearly chuckled again. Scanning Arthur’s eyes, Malcus knew Arthur didn’t fully trust the optio not to fuck things up should they actually run across Merlin. Malcus still had his doubts that they would encounter the magician, but he didn’t blame Arthur for not wanting Amadeus to damage the already fragile relationship even further. Barbattus also surmised that Castus also wanted Malcus to watch Scipio as well, protecting's Arthur's reputation. Only for you, my friend Malcus’ eyes spoke back to Arthur. “Oy, commander,” Malcus responded and tipped his head to Arthur before he left the room. As Malcus left Arthur’s quarters, he adjusted his heavy cloak, trying to keep the cold drizzle from penetrating through to his skin. “Abominable weather,” the captain said aloud as he headed down the roadway past the tavern, toward the stables. At the stable gate, Barbattus looked about for Jols. Not immediately seeing either Jols or Mirtha, Barbattus yanked a sleeping stable boy by the scruff of his neck. “Do you know my horse, boy?” he asked the groggy young man. “Yes, captain! Falco is your mount!” “That’s right! Get him ready to go. I’ll be back just around midday to ride out.” Malcus tossed the boy a coin and turned to go. “Thank you, sir!” the boy called after him, now fully awake, and ran off to tend Falco. As Barbattus reached the infirmary, Titrus ‘rounded the building, almost running into him. “Titrus!” Malcus greeted his lieutenant, “I was just coming to check on you,” “Captain!” Titrus responded, somewhat surprised. “Walk and talk,” Malcus said, as was his usual way with Titrus. “How are the prisoners? Have they been treated?” “Yes, sir! They are well, sir. I just checked them just a bit ago. They’ve been no trouble at all.” “Good,” Malcus said. “Titrus, Arthur has ordered me to ride out with Optio Scipio and the woad prisoner to find Merlin. We will be leaving shortly – after Arthur speaks with the girl. I want you to take the smaller girl back to the cells. But I want you to put her in the Roman cell area. It's not nearly as bad and there are windows there. Make sure she has clean straw for bedding and a blanket. Order her food and water as well.” Malcus commanded. "Yes, sir. It will be done." The two men reached the infirmary doors. Titrus opened the door and allowed Malcus to enter. The captain looked around the medical room. He hated being in the place, it made him uncomfortable. He’d always felt he’d rather die on the battlefield than on some bed missing a limb or two and half crazed. “This way, sir.” Titrus said as he led the way toward the small room where the prisoners were being held. The lieutenant had a small parcel tucked under his arm that Malcus hadn’t noticed, or if he had, he hadn’t inquired about what it was. With Malcus, it was hard to tell some times. The two guards at the door snapped to attention and saluted when Malcus approached. Returning their salute, Barbattus brushed past them and opened the door. Neeria jerked her attention to the door as the two Roman’s entered. Eala was still at her side. The child crouched lower and watched the men with wide black eyes. “I have come to take you Commander Castus,” Malcus said to Neeria. “He wishes to speak with you before we ride out. You are to fulfill your promise of taking us to your leader, Merlin. Our bargain is the same as before. Do not try to fight me and I promise not to kill you. Are you able to move or do you need assistance?” Neeria looked at the man standing at the foot of her bed. She recognized him as being the man who came to her cell the night before. He was of authority, she realized. “I can move without assistance from you, Roman,” she said nastily. Malcus' smile at her contained no humor, only tolerance. “Good. Let’s go. No trouble.” As Neeria rose from the bed, holding onto to her side and grimacing a bit, Malcus kept his eye on the wild girl. “Tell your comrade in whatever manner necessary to remain where she is or I will throttle her but good,” the captain said angrily, remembering their last encounter. Neeria put her hand up to Eala, trying to tell her to stay put. The child paced around like a caged animal. “I will handle the younger one,” Titrus said calmly. Neeria pulled herself up from the bed and stood on wobbly legs. Malcus grabbed her by her elbow to steady her. Neeria thanked Orius that she had given the long blade to Eala to hide just a moment before the Romans arrived. Keeping the knife under her thigh was far too dangerous and now Neeria’s precautionary measure had obviously paid off. “Do I need to chain you?” he asked. “No!” she snarled, yanking her elbow from his grip. Malcus smiled at her again, wishing he could slap the sheite out of her or break her pretty neck. Instead, he said, “Move, then,” and led her toward the door. Barbattus looked over his shoulder and said to Titrus, “be careful, lieutenant. When you are finished here, meet me at the stables. I will have orders for you before I leave.” “Oy, captain,” Titrus replied, never breaking eye contact with Eala. Malcus then guided the girl out of the room, taking the cloak off the guard at the door and wrapping it around her. "We will find proper clothing for you when we get to the barracks." When the door closed behind Malcus, Titrus got down on one knee again in front of Eala. She was visibly upset, making guttural, animal-like noises, her eyes wide like saucers. But Titrus waited until she realized he wanted to communicate with her. When the child calmed down a bit, he mouthed to her, very slowly “You must trust me.” The wild girl stopped moving, watching Titrus’ mouth move as he spoke. “I have to take you back to the other place – that is my order. But I will go with you. Do you understand?” Then Titrus reached under his cloak and pulled out the small parcel he wrapped when he’d run home quickly. The lieutenant took a small, dirty doll that he knew would not be missed by either of his daughters and put it up to Eala’s face. Titrus doubted if the girl had ever seen a doll before. “This is for you. Keep her close to you,” he mouthed. “She is your friend and will keep you company.” The lieutenant rose to his feet and pointed to the door. “We have to leave, now,” he said. He hated to have to do it, but he opened the door to lead the girl back to a dingy cell. |
![]() |
|
| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 06:25 PM Post #160 |
![]()
|
Author: Pinkie Date: Wed May 14, 2008 10:30 am Catherine Catherine smiled and laughed easily with Fleur, delightedly helping the littler of the girls with her pillowcase and quickly stuffing her into the new green dress that she had brought along. It fit her with a little room left over. The whore took a step back and smiled, unaware of Cassidy's building tantrum. Catherine put her two hands on Fleur's cheeks and smiled at her. "You look beautiful now." she told her, distracted midway as the bowl of soup was upended onto the purple dress she had brought for Cassidy. At first Catherine was horrified, gasping and looking at the ruined dress. She held onto Fleur's hand as the girl jumped off the bed and gripped her about the waist.
"Hmmph!" Catherine frowned, looking down at Fleur and then over to Cassidy. She narrowed her hazy green eyes at the older of the girls, her head cocked knowledgably. "Whose helping? These dresses have been sitting in my clothes trunk at home for years. I don't need them and they are much too good to throw away. Don't you think Fleur?" Catherine smiled down at the littler girl, noticing how unsure she was of her sister right now. The blonde took a deep breath and looked over at Cassidy. She pursed her lips and then stretched her hand out towards her, the one holding Fleur's, essentially offering the little girl back to her sister. "I can't stay right now to talk about this. You girls are big enough to look after yourselves now anyways." She smiled at Fleur, then gave a cautious look at Cassidy, "Perhaps you can think about the dress while I'm gone? You don't have to keep it - certainly not if you don't want it. Ok?" she hoped her keepng her temper about Cassidy's rude destruction of a perfectly good dress was winning some brownie points with the older of the two girls. Catherine certainly didn't want to take care of the girls - though she did love children, she just wanted to make sure they had enough to get by. Galahad
Galahad's bottom lip was pouting out as he tried to recall how Derfel had reacted. He could remember how distressing it had been losing Gedeon but he couldn't pin-point Derfel's reaction in his head so he shrugged - interrupted from his thoughts by Bors.
Galahad watched Bors go with a silly half grin on his face. He could see the man was attempting not to limp but, having seen him and the rest of his brothers come through so much worse than that, Galahad just found it amusing. He snorted in amusement and looked over at Tristan for his reaction to the knife-throwing contest. "I'm in on that!" he declared with an almost adolescent brightness, believing that he might have a chance against Tristan. The scout was good - very good, but Galahad was convinced that he was not invincible as he seemed to be where throwing knives were concerned. His big blue eyes vibrant and eager. Alina could come along too - perhaps Vanora would sing, maybe Dagonet would be well enough to come to the tavern too. The thoughts of having all of them together in the tavern for a drink and a ribbing sounded too good to be true for Galahad, and the doe-eyed look on his face said so.
The two were looking at Bors walk away. Galahad's head whipped from looking at Darya and Tristan to teh retreating broad back of Bors and he shrugged. He was limping - weren't they all? The youngest knight sniffed and looked up at Darya again. His elbows were drawn backwards, resting on the top of the gate behind him, his hands flat against his stomach - "Derfel's one of us now. He took it the same way the rest of us did I suppose. Gedeon hit him hard though... Linnette and Linnesse and all that ..." the youngest knight mentioned, moving one hand in a continuing-on gesture before sighing and shaking his head, looking sadly at Tristan who was tending to Gedeon's old horse. It was only then that the black-haired knight realised that this was Tristan's new horse. His eyes bugged and his jaw dropped. "Tristan... does Dagonet know you're... does Linnette?" Galahad asked worriedly, gesturing to the horse. |
![]() |
|
| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 07:44 PM Post #161 |
![]()
|
Author: Eledhwen Date: Wed May 14, 2008 11:58 am Bors Bors raised a dismissive hand at the comment from Darya, and waved it good-naturedly as he stomped out of the barn. It was still raining, and his leg hurt more than ever. Maybe he should just go to the infirmary and get it looked at... Huffing to himself at the thought of 'giving in', Bors started towards the infirmary, limping more as he crossed the courtyard now that there was no one to see him. Maybe he would just give Dag a visit... that was all - he wasn't going to get his leg looked at... Hobbling as he reached the door and sliding in out of the rain, Bors spotted Dagonet straight away. He already had visitors, but he surely wouldn't turn his best buddie and drinking companion away. "Dag!" he called as he approached the bed. "'Ow's it goin'?" Bors was not the best when it came to sympathy, but Dagonet knew that. The oldest knight did of course feel for his friend in his time of loss, but Bors had seen too many good men die, more than the other knights, to let the loss of one more affect him overly much. He eased his bulk down onto the bed, on the opposite side to Derfel, and winced as a sharp pain shot up his thigh. |
![]() |
|
| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 07:45 PM Post #162 |
![]()
|
Author: Pinkie Date: Wed May 14, 2008 12:22 pm Amadeus It is a pity the man whom Malcus spoke of wasn't more interested in blood than sex - then Britain might be one woad closer to cleansing the land. Amadeus waited patiently for his moment to shine, waited with his grey eyes looking attentive though inside his head he was planning how he would accept this mission, how he would reassure Arthur that this was in the best interests of all and sundry.
Damn it! Amadeus' eyebrows raised in mild interest and he nodded his head curtly to indicate he had received an order and understood it. He so wanted to look at Lancelot, to see if the dark Knight was seething because he had been given this important task and not him. But the Optio behaved - looking ahead of him, watching Arthur closely. "What is my task once I do engage Merlin, Commander?" the Optio enquired smoothly, folding one arm over his flat, armoured stomach, lifting a hand to pinch his narrow jaw, stroking his index finger over the smooth skin. |
![]() |
|
| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 07:46 PM Post #163 |
![]()
|
Author: golden_trillium Date: Wed May 14, 2008 12:50 pm Tristan
"Eh..." Tristan hesitated for a moment, wondering how much Galahad was going to disapprove when he admitted that no, neither Dagonet nor Linnette knew about his appropriation of Tirgatao. Rather a lot, judging by his shocked, worried expression. "No," the scout admitted with a shrug, sneaking a slightly guilty glance at Darya, too, as he said it. Did she think the same as Galahad apparently did? Tristan was consummately practical; Tirgatao was a good horse- and available. It truly hadn't occured to Tristan to ask anyone's permission but Mirtha's- but though the scout wasn't ready to give up his new mount just on someone else's say-so, he did also want to avoid upsetting Dagonet if it were possible. Linnette...well, Linnette didn't worry him so much. He almost never talked to her, and besides, arrangements for fighting weren't her business or any other woman's. Dagonet, though- if Dagonet was upset at Tristan about his horse business, that could have more significant repercussions. "You think..." Tristan trailed off, looking uncertainly from Galahad to Darya. |
![]() |
|
| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 07:47 PM Post #164 |
![]()
|
Author: Pinkie Date: Wed May 14, 2008 12:51 pm Drake
Had Drake cared about what his room looke like he might have had the decency to feel a smidge of embarrassment at her statement. He never put any effort into his rooms, he never had done. He slept in the damn place, he washed in it and he dressed in it. So long as the room was equipped with those items necessary for said tasks then he was satisfied. He lifted his bandaged hand to his face and looked around the place with raised eyebrows, as if seeing it for the first time and gave a wry shrug of his broad shoulders. "Maybe." he intoned in a light baritone, coming around to stand in front of her as she sat on the bed. Drake wasn't too sure about how he would do this - but there was no point in dallying. He knew he would just lose confidence if he delayed. With that in mind, the Spaniard hunkered down, favouring one foot over the other, bowl in one hand and towel in his bandaged hand. He tensed his jaw as he set about dabbing at the broken skin. Lightly - very lightly. Her hand moved downwards though, instinctive, he supposed, to avoid it hurting herself. Her first intake of breath made him pause. He didn't look at her face though, just tensed his jaw that bit harder and waited a moment before continuing. She did it again and he could hear his teeth creak under pressure.
His green eyes flashed up to her face in an instant. Was she joking with him? The half smile on her pretty face answered that thought and he breathed out an amused, though light, laugh. Clearing his throat, the Spaniard shook his head. He placed the bowl onto the ground and placed his uninjured hand beneath Linnette's. Goosebumps tightened the skin on his arms and chest almost to the point that he could barely move. Her hand was just as soft as he remembered, and it was cold now, very very cold. She flinched again when he placed the cold cloth back to her flesh and his teeth creeked. Without her mentioning it, Drake delibrately unclamped his jaw, his mouth hanging open to show her that he wasn't tensing this time. But seeing her fingers bend at the next contact he finally gave up trying not to react. His green eyes glanced up at her face, then down to her hand, his head tilted to the side as he carefully dabbed at the edges of teh graze. "I don't like the thought that this is hurting you. That I'm hurting you." he explained in a husky voice, obviously unwilling to be admitting such stupid little details. "It seems counter productive..." Drake murmured, leaning over her hand closely peering at the wound. There was a piece of grit embedded. This made the Spaniard grimace. He placed the bowl on Linnette's lap carefully and dangled her hand over it, letting a trickle of water flow from the squeezed towel, along her hand and into the bowl. |
![]() |
|
| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 07:49 PM Post #165 |
![]()
|
Author: golden_trillium Date: Wed May 14, 2008 1:16 pm Linnette
Linnette sighed, allowing her shoulders to slump a bit as she watched the water dripping down the palm of her hand, though her legs remained tensed, set in place to keep the bowl of water balanced. She didn't want Drake to feel bad about this- not at all. He had helped her, not hurt her. Her hurts right now were due to nothing more than her own damned stupidity. Hitting the wall- how useless was that? "Don't worry about it." She let out another discontented breath and reached for the cloth with her other hand, taking it from Drake and beginning to work on getting that piece of dirt out herself. She caught her breath against the sting again, grimaced slightly- actually, the pain in her left, working hand was worse than the pain in her right- but kept on going gamely until the foreign matter was gone. "It was a stupid thing for me to do," she murmurred, almost apologetically, her eyes on the bowl as she dipped the cloth again and made ready to clean her left hand- the more painful one. There was more injured there than just the skin of the palm, she could tell- a deeper, sharper pain located more towards the back of the hand. She bit her lip, trying to suppress too much reaction to it, as she wrung out the cloth in preparation, but she could not help turning the hand over and examining the back of it, trying to see if there was anything visible there. |
![]() |
|
| Go to Next Page | |
| « Previous Topic · Vincit Omnia Veritas · Next Topic » |
| Theme: Zeta Original | Track Topic · E-mail Topic | 2:26 PM Jul 11 |







