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| May 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 18 2010, 02:23 AM (3,630 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 07:52 PM Post #166 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Wed May 14, 2008 1:37 pm Eala Eala wasn't so sure about taking Neeria's knife! She took it and looked at it in her hand all confused. She shook her head and attempted to hand it back to the older woman but in the end she had just slipped it in under her tunic with the littler of the knives. She tapped her leg and looked over at the window to smile at Ash, letting him see that she was not helpless in this. However, just as she got the smile spraed on her lips the door opened again. It was the other man back again -- the sight of him made Eala defensive and she immediately crouched, flexing her little fingers. There was pain down one arm ,the one that had been dislocated, but she could use the limb alright - Titrus had come back too - Eala didn't watch him though, she kept her black eyes on Malcus. He started to talk but Eala could only catch a word or two - his face was directed to Neeria and he spoke too fast for her in any case. Her upper lip pulled back in a snarl when she recognised her Leader's name however - Merlin. Her eyes darted to Neeria questionningly but the woman just threw her legs over the side of the bed. A low, threatening noise bubbled in Eala's throat and she shook her head viciously, gritting her teeth as she pleaded with Neeria not to go with them. She was about to put her hand onto the knives on her thigh but Neeria took her arms, indicating for her to stay. The little blonde blew out an exasperated breath as Neeria walked over to the mean man. She shivered, backing away in case they wanted to bring her too - she wasn't going with that other man anywhere! She looked around Titrus as he approached her, not looking at him at all. It was only when the door shut did she turn the full effect of her too big, too dark eyes on Titrus. She may not have been afraid of him, but she was not quite to the stage of liking him either. Her nose wrinkled a little and she shrugged her shoulders defensively but did not move back at all.
Trust him?! Eala watched his lips, her face losing some of it's anger as she focussed on his words, on understanding what he was saying. It wasn't often that people took the time to speak slowly to her, pointedly moving their lips so that she imght understand what they wanted. And the other place? Was that the cells?! Eala's breath became hitched, her lips parted and she shook her head vehemently, nostrils flaring. Then something very strange happened... Titrus reached inside his cloak and pulled out a dead baby! Eala's initial reaction was horror and anger, but slowly it died to mere curiosity as she realised it was just ... something else. It was like a baby but it was made of wood and cloth. The girl cocked her head to the side, missing what Titrus said as she reached out to take the doll by the shoulder, tentatively, making a puzzled face -
Friend? A friend... Eala wasn't sure what the hell was going on with this dead baby trick but she wasn't falling for it. She held the doll at a distance from her body, pinched at the shoulder awkwardly, looking quizically at Titrus. If anything it had been a good means to distract her before delivering the blow that she was going back to the cell now. The ten-year-old looked at the doll and then at Titrus as he went to the door. She panicked. Flinging the doll onto the ground, Eala rushed to the window, banging on it and shouting incoherent noises. She was trying to get Ash's attention of course, but she also knew it would be a bad thing if the man did appear because Titrus was still there. Whirling around, Eala looked side to side and then dashed towards the bed, scampering in under the covers before falling off the far side and then promptly crawled beneath the bed, blanket pulled over her head and her black eyes peering out at Titrus' boots. Drake The good humour she had displayed only moments ago seemed to vanish with his words. Drake saw her shoulders sag and could sense the seams begin to fray around her again. The sadness coming back, the bitter mourning rearing it's head again. He continued to drip the water down her hand though, knowing that bit of dirt had to come out or it would end up infected and she would wind up with a scar like the one on his shoulder. That would never do - not on hands so fine as hers.
The Spaniard did not make a reply to this. He sat back on his heels uselessly when she took the cloth from him and continued what he had started. He flexed his wet fingers into his wounded palm and watched her pale hands at work, watching as she endured more pain to get that bit of dirt out. His eyebrows raised and he glanced up at her when she made a comment about it being stupid to pummel a stone wall. He could have made an obvious statement about it being more than stupid, but instead he just nodded his head, stroking his jaw momentarily. She finished one hand and turned the other one over. Drake sensed that this was worse than the other and watched carefully as she turned the hand over. Without thought he sat forward on his knees again, taking her left hand in his gently, plucking the cloth from her fingers and plopping it into the water bowl. His brow was furrowed as he turned the hand carefully, looking at it from different angles. "I've done worse for less." he added dryly, distracted as he traced one index finger over her skin at the wrist. At her reaction his eyebrows shot up and he looked at her eye to eye. Then Drake grimaced, gesturing with his bandaged hand to her left hand, his other hand beneath hers, holding it up a little. "That's not good." he pointed to the swelling. "I only know field fixtures - it's a crude kind of healing considering what you would get at the infirmary..." he said with a nod of his head backwards in the direction of the infirmary. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 07:53 PM Post #167 |
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Author: Lancelot Date: Wed May 14, 2008 2:41 pm Lancelot The first knight slumped further down in his chair; he was beyond caring at this point. All he could see was the nasty Optio's face, Barbattus' relaxed, comfortable with himself demeanor and Arthur's too trusting eyes as the commander gave out his orders.
Send the fool - wait, what? Arthur was also sending Barbattus? Lancelot sat up straighter, frown etching itself into his sharp features surely as if it had been born there. He wore the expression too often lately - his bed had been cold, his stomach empty, and his heart too dark - but fuck that. He sighed quietly and removed the small dirk that he kept in his boot, and began playing with the thing as the others said their peace.
Lancelot watched Barbattus leave the room with eyes narrowed to slits - his slender fingers catching his chin after he resheathed his blade. He regarded the Optio - wondering how the other man would react to Arthur's orders.
Lancelot's eyes widened; he'd imagined the Optio would be rather peeved at having to take one of Arthur's "comrades" with him on this fool's errand. But...could it be possible that Lancelot had the man pegged wrong? Could he actually be sincerely feeling.... But then Lancelot remembered the look that Scipio had given him when the Sarmatian had, like an idiot, launched himself at the other man. The big nosed bastard had been full of smug, satisfied airs. One day I will touch him - and one of us will end up dead. I swear it. Lancelot canted his gaze to Arthur and waited to see how the commander would respond to the Optio's calm words. Letting his lids droop a bit, a small wave of dizziness passed over the first knight and he pinched at the inside of his uninjured bicep in order to remain conscious. He'd be heading to the baths the second Arthur dismissed him - provided the Roman had taken care of himself first. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 07:54 PM Post #168 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Wed May 14, 2008 3:24 pm Linnette
Still looking down at her left hand with a kind of morbid fascination, Linnette poked gently, very gently, at the tender swelling on the back of it, gritting her teeth at the pain that even that touch caused. Broken...maybe. But probably not. She could still use the hand. She lifted it from Drake's and curled the fingers in experimentally, wincing as she did so; it hurt, but it was quite possible. And the thought of going all the way over to the infirmary now, for what amounted to a scrap of bandage, not to mention having to explain what had happened and how she had come by this injury anyway- that was not an appealing prospect at all. She shrugged and offered the hand back to Drake, setting it back on his; he had very, very tough, thick callouses, she noticed. "I don't want a fuss- do what you can and I'll have Linnesse look at it later." She met Drake's eyes again, her mouth twisted to one side with a combination of discontent, an effort to hold on to the pain, and a pleading for him not to insist on going to the infirmary. Going there would only delay her in the rest of the things she had to do today. It wouldn't serve any purpose- she'd rather just get on with things. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 07:55 PM Post #169 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Wed May 14, 2008 7:58 pm Arthur Arthur briefly noted Malcus’ exit with a curt nod at his friend as the man left to retrieve the prisoner as ordered. And movement in his peripheral vision drew Arthur’s attention…he slightly turned his head towards Lancelot to catch his lieutenant ‘casually’ fingering a small blade and then re-sheathing it; expression drawn and most decidedly sour. He would see to Lancelot once everything was settled with Amadeus and Malcus. Scrubbing a hand over his darkening beard, Arthur finally stood from his perch on the table to face Amadeus as the Optio politely inquired about his assignment.
The Commander’s side burned with the movement and Arthur had to once again place a firm hand over his stitches. He silently prayed to God that Neeve’s expert work had held up under the morning’s activities…Lancelot’s foolish actions.. Arthur’s head throbbed and his stomach cramped, yet he met Amadeus’ grey eyes with a placid green gaze….concealing his true weakened condition was rapidly becoming difficult. “First, inform him of my regret for not riding out to meet the Woad leader personally. However, he need not know the reason,” Arthur said, making it clear that Merlin was not to be informed of the Commander’s injury. And Arthur also assumed Scipio would not need a lecture on diplomacy if he truly had experience in negotiations, thus the Commander got straight to the point. “Inform him that you have come on my behalf and that I must know the meaning of the breaking of his oath to keep peace between us,” Arthur continued, one hand planted on his left hip while the other remained carefully pressed over his injured side. “Discover his purpose; make a new treaty for peace. And if need be, you may offer that I will meet with Merlin personally tomorrow at mid day if he refuses to discuss his terms with you,” Arthur dictated exactly what he required of Amadeus on this crucial errand in which the Optio was to act as the Commander’s emissary. Arthur deeply regretted his inability to seek out Merlin personally….and nearly changed his mind as he held Scipio’s steady gaze, but his side twinged again with a nagging reminder of his vulnerable condition. He briefly canted his eyes over at Lancelot where the dark knight continued to occupy a chair….he had been far too quiet during this little discussion. And that had Arthur both suspicious and concerned. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 07:57 PM Post #170 |
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Author: Ranchera Date: Wed May 14, 2008 9:26 pm Connell
Connell barely glanced at her, preoccupied with what they had to do once they received the signal to enter the fort. Had Neeria been found? He made himself finish his meager, coarse bread. How is Neeria? Is she alive? He felt something brush against his leg, like a faithful dog letting his presence be known.
Gack! Mona's big eyes gazed heavily into his, and then she looked beyond him.
Connell was quick to his feet, practically flinging Mona back from him as she scrambled to standing. "Lady! Are you hurt?" he inquired, careful not to let his voice rise like Mona's, lest they attract the attention of the guards on the ramparts. A woman's scream would surely draw them. "Let's be sure we're out of view. Come and I will help you," Connell said, moving forward to catch hold of Guinevere. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 07:58 PM Post #171 |
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Author: sabor ice Date: Wed May 14, 2008 11:56 pm Cassidy & Fleur
Fleur beamed when Catherine praised her. The green dress hung a bit loosely on her tiny frame, which meant she had some room to grow into it yet. She ran her little hands over the material of her skirt, marveling at the soft texture on it. It was much warmer than her make-do dress, and prettier than her old blue one. Fleur hadn't even an inkling of knowledge when she turned to show-off her dress to her sister that Cassidy was fuming, until the older girl angrily exclaimed at Catherine.
A bewildered Fleur glanced between her sister and Catherine, unconsciously nodding at the whore's inquiry of her. Cassidy snorted in disbelief at the woman's retort, folding her arms defensively over her chest. There was a small part of her that terribly regretted ruining the purple dress and snapping at Catherine, but apology was not in her nature. The hurt that coursed throughout her body seemed to be grounds for the immediate dismissal of others because Cassidy couldn't make sense of it, couldn't control it, couldn't express it in a more civil and coherent manner. She was just so angry, and nobody seemed to be listening.
Catherine looked to offer Fleur back to her sister, but the little girl vehemently shook her head and stuck to the blonde whore like glue. "I don't wan' you to go!" Fleur pouted, tearful blue eyes peering up at the woman. She half-turned away from Catherine and pointed an accusing finger at her older sister. "Sissy makes everyone go away! Nobody likes us, an' it's Sissy's fault!" The older blonde physically flinched at her sister's harsh declaration, but she said nothing. She turned her face away, tentatively biting the inside of her cheek until she drew blood, just trying to keep herself from breaking down and crying. This wasn't what she wanted - she didn't want her sister to hate her, she didn't want to drive people away. People just seemed to go away, to be distant even if they were standing right before her. Even now Catherine wanted to leave, and the twelve year old could hardly blame her. Ash Ash was suffering. Lack of sleep and food he could withstand for a time. As a warrior, he had always tried to train himself to overcome such measly obstacles should an occasion arise where he'd be forced to go without, like now. His real dilemma lied with the side wound he had sustained last battle. To his knowledge, it was not bleeding, but he found himself to be much more limited in his movements then he had earlier anticipated. This complicated matters, but he was not about to risk his comrades lives over his own, especially not Eala's. He had involved himself more than he ever should've - he felt responsible for her. For a moment when her fingers had touched the window that separated them, Ash's focus had slipped, his gaze intently upon the child-sized digits. It reminded him that Eala suffered, too - she had sacrificed more - and his pain was asinine in comparison. He released a heavy sigh and lifted his gaze to watch her awkward pantomime. He tried his best to decipher her meaning through the streaky, dirty window, when suddenly the door was thrown open behind her little form. Ash had no choice but to duck from sight, slumping miserably against the wall under the window, as he waited. A few short minutes later, he heard the panicked movements of Eala's small hand against the window, and her muffled incoherent shouts. Alarmed, Ash whipped around, endangering his cover by peering through the window, but at this point he didn't care. He narrowed his dark eyes, using only a fraction of the window to look through. From what he could tell, Neeria was gone. At first glance, Ash had thought Eala was, too, until he noticed a small lump stuffed under the covers of the bed, and a set of black eyes suspiciously peering out from under them. Ash grit his teeth, a savage growl very nearly ripping from his chest, his eyes deadly, as he warily watched the dark-haired soldier's movements. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 08:00 PM Post #172 |
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Author: Unicorn Date: Thu May 15, 2008 2:10 am Dagonet Dagonet was offered with a simple gesture of a gentle smile from Derfel. But he, himself could not smile back. As they were returning to Badon he felt better.... he felt that he could stay strong, but broken face of Linnette broke his heart also. It haunted him.... Because he knew he couldn't leave the infirmary, go to her and just be of any help.... Just be there. It felt so bad. Life didn't have the light anymore. Saoirse was his light, but it was still too soon to realise it and to grasp his chance.... To forget about the pain in him.
The tall knight closed his eyes briefly in pained expression...Holding up.... Gods! How it came to this? Why he could not be there for her? Why? He nodded slowly his head at Derfel's answer and looked at him. "Thank you" he whispered and corners of his mouth twitch only in weak attempt of too early smile... it did not come out. What could he say? If not for Derfel he would be lost... there on the battlefield with Gawain also, and now... so helplessly laying injured.
Dagonet's eyes went to Lucius and just looked at the man for a moment. Tears threatening to fall... Only mere word son was so much painful. After swallowing roughly he nodded his head. It was so painful and it will be probably till the end of his days. To loose a son and never find him is the worst thing.... Being refused to see his joy of being a father, as Dagonet himself always wanted to be.... being refused to even bury his son and offer him to the gods. Life had no breathing air for him, only pain.
Don't see her.... Where was she? Dagonet looked weakly himself around, but could not see much from his position. He needed her hands to sooth away pain from his face, for a moment.
Dagonet looked at the Lucius as he asked if he could help.... It must be awkward for a man to stand beside two friends, that shared a pain bond.... One so seemingly broken both in body and mind. It must be strange for Lucius and Dagonet was sure of it. "I would be greatful..." he said sincerely.
Dagonet shook his head once wordlessly. She was with him before, but now as he oppened his eyes there was Derfel and this Lucius, not Saoirse. He wanted to say that he woke up just before they came to the infirmary, but somebody's else voice caught his attention....
Bors made his loud approach as always. Dagonet had not spoted him before as he walked in, but only when his friend started to shout his greeting, the tall knight's head turned to see his long time friend approaching. Dagonet knew that Bors was not a type of man, who is affected by death.... he had seen too much. At first years death moved Bors greatly, but year after a year as many has died Bors stopped to feel it... stopped being overwhelmed by it. He just blocked those emotions... Maybe it was better. Dagonet learnt the other way.... compasion and every death broke him deeply. But this... this situation was far more worse. It was his son... Gedeon who searched for his father for a long time, and as he finally got a little happiness in his life, Linnette and founding of a family... he was taken by the death. This was not fair. Dagonet looked at Bors and almost smiled at the man as he came close. The positive energy that his friend had was one of the little things that made him feel warm inside and Bors always knew how to bring smile upon his face. "Bors..." he greeted the man and watched his friend taking a sit on his bed opositive to where Derfel sat. But once the older knight sat Dagonet saw the wince upon his face and frowned. Bors had a leg injury..... and his own friend could not take care of it.... it was Bors instead to stitch him in that cart as they traveled home. "I am fine..." he said, it was better not to keep worrying his friend further. Dagonet always choose to be strong in front of him... always showed his strenght instead of weakness... in front of everybody... Broken heart broke his will to be strong, but he had to try to be strong again. He frowned at his friend and shook his head. "But your leg is not." he said straightforward. "Did anybody look at it after we came back?" |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 08:02 PM Post #173 |
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Author: Kay Date: Thu May 15, 2008 2:26 am Guinevere
Guinevere was still too angry to speak. She merely stood with her fists clenched with suppressed rage.
"It's okay" she finally managed, as the healer moved foward to touch her. "It's not my blood" She crossed over to the old log she had sat upon earlier and slumped down, still fighting against the urge to vent her anger; right now she really wanted to hit something, or someone. Her gaze fell upon Mona; stupid girl, screaming like that; it was a wonder the Romans weren't already upon them. The Woad princess took out a small dagger from her boot and slammed it into the wood, feeling the tension ease a little from her body. "Mona" she said; her voice now eerily calm. "If you cannot control your outbursts, we will leave you here. Raising your voice like that could put us all in peril; the fortress is not so far away" She pulled her blade from the log and tested the edge against her thumb; blood immediately sprang from the small cut it had made; satisfied she had not dulled the blade, she slid the knife back into it's hiding place. "The guards were drunk" she said. "One of them thought he could insult me; he was wrong. He is now dead, and the others are bound and gagged, awaiting our return. I expect that my father will order their execution." She took a piece of bread from the provision store and began to eat. When she was finished she stood and began to gather her things. "We will have to go on as we are" she said, shouldering her pack and striding onwards, leaving the others to catch her up. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 08:05 PM Post #174 |
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Author: Unicorn Date: Thu May 15, 2008 3:30 am Evana Oh yes! She was aware that the man was in a lot of pain. Those kinds of wounds were nasty. And Evana was expirinced in healing... She saw many of them upon men before. This fortress infirmary was always full of men needing help.
"Mhm..." she murmured only as she worked on the task at hand. This was not the time for talking, she had to get things done. Even so she looked up briefly to meet his eyes and smiled slightly. "New to the place?" she asked and winked at him. "I'm Evana and you probably see me more often than you think." The man groaned couple of times as she worked... It must have hurt, but she could do nothing for him now... She had no tea and it was waste of time to do it now... The wound must be taken care before anything.
She smiled again. "Not good... but I will fix you up in no time, Brendyn"
Evana nodded silently searching for the right thing to do it. She took the clean blade from the table... a basin, some clean cloth and moved back to the man. She kneeled before him preparing the things.
"I'm a healer.... you need help, so I am here." she stated simply and reached to put her hand over his hip and pushed slightly. "Lay down... it will be easier that way." As he done as was he told Evana took the blade and put the basin under his arm. She worked quickly and soon reopened the wound, blood going down to the basin. She put a hand over the man's forehead knowing it probably hurted him much.. very much. "I'll give you something for the pain in a secound. Just lay here..." She moved away and went quickly to the storeroom for something for a the pain. Returned also fast and pured some medicine into the cup beside him, castin a look at the wound and basin. The blood was runing slowly. As she put a mug to man's lips and her other hand went behind his head to help him drink Evana was still looking at the wound. No complications thus far. She took the needle and clean cloth... Cleaned edges of the wound and geting sure that it was alright to sew she looked at the man. "The thing I gave you might daze you a little, but don't worry it will dull the pain in a moment." She started to work on the wound with her skillful hands and soon she was done and wrapped the bandage over the man's arm. As she was done, Evana put his arm to lay beside his body and smiled at him. "Done..." she annonced happily. "How does it feel?" Mirtha Mirtha sat there glancing over at Vanora as she murmured something.... but he had not heard her as she moved to her children. Mirtha shook his head and looked at his plate... Started to eat slowly his mind somewhere else. He thouhgt of what happened the night before and was annoyed by mere thought that he could do something bad or wrong to Ione. He was drunk... And being drunk was the time when his mind blocked his memories.... or rather everything blocked his mind. He did not control himself then... Did he rape her? Where could he find her to apologize her? Apologize... Was it enought? What happened then? His head hurted... Fucking mornings...! He hated them!
There appeared a mug before him and Mirtha frowned slightly as Vanora's voice broke his thoughts and he looked from the mug to the woman. "Aye.... But it's nothing for you to worry." he admitted and shook his head, but slowly pushing the mug of ale towards Vanora. "I can't even look at it, and if I take a seep of it I am sure, I'll vomit." he said seriously, but with a twitch of corners of his mouth. "I have a powerfull headache Vanora"
Mirtha smiled a little more and nodded his head taking bite of something on his plate. Then a scream turned his attention.... Children. He watched for a moment as Vanora came to her children and started to break the two of them fighting with each other. In his case... as he was fighting with his younger sisters.... and it came to those fights often as he was 10 or 12 back then... his mother only laughed and then screamed at him that his sister has bloodied face. It was an ill approach to children he now gathered. Mirtha smiled to his memories a little before shaking his head in one more thought coming to his mind. A little darker one.... He did not miss his family... he did not miss those times. It was better here. He looked down at his tatoo on his wrist and shook his head. Wind... No family... No connections... Maybe it was the time to leave the place.... He shook his head to his own thoguhts. Leaving would led him back home and he did not want it. He finished his food and left some coin and the table for Vanora... she will need it more than him right now. No more drinks for him untill he speak with Ione. Mirtha left the tavern and headed to Ione's shop... He wanted to sepak with her... But before he reached her doors he saw her going somwhere down the path.. "Ione!" he shouted after her to make her stop and notice him... some people turning to look at him. He paid them no attention but rushed to reach Ione. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 08:06 PM Post #175 |
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Author: Eledhwen Date: Thu May 15, 2008 5:43 am Bors
Bors threw his friend an understanding, if slightly disbelieving smile as he spoke. In his own gruff way his heart was breaking too, if not for the loss of Gedeon, who of course Bors had liked and respected, then for the loss of something that was precious to Dagonet. Bors might act tough and brash, but deep down he felt things, even if he would not admit it to himself. Only Dag had ever caught a glimpse of the man beneath the facade, and even then not recently. The years of battle and fighting for the Romans had taken their toll, leaving Bors hardened and not a little sour. He put on a front, swearing and bawling and pretending not to care, because it was the only way he knew how to cope.
Bors shrugged, glancing down at the offending limb. "Yeah I 'ad it seen to," he replied shortly, "but I reckon there's sumfink in it. It 'urt's like 'ell." He would only admit this to Dagonet, because he knew Dagonet wouldn't fuss needlessly like Vanora would. But subconsciously he also knew that his friend would make him get someone to look at it, however much he protested, and Bors knew that it needed to be done. He glanced at Derfel, then up sideways at Lucius. If they had not been there perhaps he would have spoken more freely to Dag about Gedeon, about the loss and the pain, but not in front of others. Instead he gave his friend a steady look, eyes which had seen so much suffering sending a silent message of understanding. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 08:07 PM Post #176 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Thu May 15, 2008 8:24 am Brendyn The nun worked with all of the skill of someone blessed with the talent to soothe and heal at the same time. Surely, this nun was a gift from God...the kind that when others turned their backs in times of need, she would be the one He sent. Brendyn winced a bit asshe worked gently, though the pain was still there. Having befriended a medicus at Aesica, the man had taught Brendyn some things that were useful after battles, but his first love was being a lancearii, and protecting those who deserved it....with the exception of the enemy. The young soldier bit his lower lip as she went on with her task...
'Evana...lovely name. It is an honour to meet you, Sister...' Brendyn gave her a warm smile while covering up the grimace he made as she poked on a tender spot. 'I...am new here. I am a transfer from Aesica." Had she winked at him? Gods, if he had not known better, Evana reminded him of his aunt back in Brittany... 'I hope you'll not be seeing me too much...at least to the point of thinking that I live here in the infirmary...' Evana had a warm smile that could soothe anyone's nerves. Brendyn left out a groan as she searched for the area of the infection as he knew some infections had a starting point, but he wanted only a slight sedative. He was a trained soldier, and to be put totally under would make him look weak. Evana smiled again at him...
Brendyn had no doubt of the fact that with Evana's skills, he'd not have to worry about infections or his stitches popping...that he blamed on the last medicus who had been in such a hurry he had not made time to check everything nor stitch the wound well. Attentive eyes watched the nun as she went off to retrieve the basin, and other tools she'd need, then she came back and prepared to do what she had to do. He said nothing as she knelt next to him and placed the basin under his wound. He had been stabbed several times, but the quick percise inscision she had done to the wound bloody hurt! Brendyn tensed, but the firm hand on his forehead kept him from moving any more than was necessary. He again bit his lower lip as the pain slowly eased as the infected area drained into the basin...
As the wound finished draining, Evana had gone off to fetch a mug of some sort of herbal painkiller, and when she returned, Evana helped him sit up a bit to drink the nasty tasting stuff. Brendyn coughed a bit, as she helped him lie back down to finish her job. As promised, the herbal drink did make him a bit dazed, but he was able to feel less of the pain. He was not even aware that she had begun to clean the rest of the now drained wound, and made ready to sew the wound back up. The young man could only lie there and look up at the ceiling as she sewed a row of stitches that he was sure would not come undone. That finished, Evana then rewrapped the area... Placing his arm next to his body, Brendyn watched her and returned her smile. Never before had he met a nun who was faced with such a bad task and yet faced it with an attitude that was to be commended...
'100 times better than when I came in, ' Brendyn said. He felt a bit tired from the pain killer, and found it hard to keep his eyes open. 'I hope to tell Commander Castus of your fine work when I see him...' Brendyn closed his eyes then reopened them. 'I will remember you tonight at evening prayer for your continued wisdom and skill...' Brendyn began to doze off a bit evantually letting the lite herb induced sleep to take him. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 08:09 PM Post #177 |
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Author: Darya Date: Thu May 15, 2008 9:20 am Darya
Darya nodded at Galahad’s words and felt a bit relieved that Derfel was doing okay. After all – and even though he had grown up in Britain – he was still of Saxon blood. And she could only imagine how strange it must feel to fight one’s own people. She did not know how she would react if she were forced to kill her own kinsmen…and the female Sarmatian definitely preferred to never ever make this experience… But then the topic changed all for sudden…and Tristan’s new horse, which had been Gedeon’s before, suddenly was the centre of their attention. Darya knew that the scout would take good care of the horse…but she could also see Galahad’s point here. The woman tilted her head slightly and pursed her lips in thought. “Well, it would certainly be a nice gesture and a demonstration of respect for Gedeon if the two would be informed about…this…”, the dark-haired mused and briefly rubbed her nose, “…you see, if…” Darya paused for a moment and tried to come up with the best way to voice her thoughts. If Arthur had died and she would suddenly see someone else ride out on Casti’s back… The Sarmatian blinked. That would be…strange…and wrong. Gods, she would probably get that person off the white stallion’s back herself. But then…that was her opinion. Perhaps Dagonet would be glad that his son’s horse was in good and familiar hands again…maybe he’d even be proud. After all, he knew Tristan well… As for Linnette… Darya was not sure. She sighed. “It would only be fair to talk to them about this…”, she then added and shrugged slightly, “…and prevent everyone from possible unpleasant incidents should they find out by chance and not approve… Don’t you think?” Her dark gaze shifted from Tristan to Galahad, wondering if he shared this opinion, and then back to the scout. This horse will always be a reminder of Gedeon, the female added in thought, and he has only just left this world… |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 08:10 PM Post #178 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Thu May 15, 2008 10:22 am Tristan
"Mmmm..." Tristan made an uneasy, noncommital sound, his eyes shifting from Darya, to Galahad- to whom she seemed to be looking for support in her position- to the horse and back again. A nice gesture? Maybe. But when did Tristan ever worry about 'nice gestures'? Dagonet- he was no problem. Well, as long as Saoirse was nowhere near. Tristan could casually make some mention of the horse and the other knight, being a knight, would understand, and that would be that. But to just walk up to Linnette and tell her that he had appropriated her late husband's mount? The idea, in his heart of hearts, terrified him. Which was why he didn't even want to contemplate it- wanted to deny that it was in any way necessary or even desirable. He crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head in mute denial. "What she doesn't know won't hurt her," he muttered, kicking again at the loose gravel of the floor, as good a way as any to avoid looking at the other two. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 08:11 PM Post #179 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Thu May 15, 2008 1:05 pm Titrus “You’re doing it all wrong, Titrus! You’re frightening her!” Titrus heard the soft voice of his late wife, Deeta, speaking to him much like she did when she was alive and Titrus was struggling with one of their daughters. Titrus cringed at how he’d frightened (or angered, he wasn’t quite sure) the woad child, not knowing what to do. Obviously, the girl didn’t want to go back to the cells, but the lieutenant was confused why the girl didn’t take to the doll. He thought all little girls liked dolls. But this wild thing was different. Watching in horror as the child banged on the window, Titrus quickly took his hand off the doorknob so as not to alert the guards outside. “Are ya okay in there?” the guard yelled from the other side of the door. “Stand at ease! Everything’s fine...I’m fine!” the lieutenant barked back. Turning his attention back to the girl, the man sighed just as the frightened child left the window and literally ran across the room, scurried across the bed and slid underneath with a dull thud. Slowly, Titrus made his way in her direction. He got down on one knee and peeked under the sheet. Black eyes stared at him without blinking. Titrus stared back. “You have to come out from there. Now,” he said, slowly, so she could read his lips. The little girl was shaking her head furiously, either rage or terror flashing in her dark eyes. Titrus wasn't sure if she would attack him or not. He hoped she wouldn't. He really did not want to man-handle her. “Good Lord,” the Roman said aloud. What the hell was he going to do? He peered at the girl again and pulled his arm inward, toward his body, trying to tell the girl he wanted her to come to him. The child sat there staring at him, not moving. Her mouth open and eyes wide. Disappointed that his effort at comforting and reassuring the child actually made matters worse, Titrus picked up the doll, walked across the room and placed it on the desk. Then he went back to the bed and bent down again. Titrus had his orders and his personal feelings had nothing to do with it. He pulled the sheet back and looked at the girl again. Without a word, Titrus grabbed her scrawny little ankles and ripped her from under the bed, her narrow butt sliding across the floor quite easily. The lieutenant yanked her about the waist and hoisted her to her feet. The sudden movement caught her off guard. “I don’t want to do this but I must. Please do not make me shackle you again,” Titrus locked his blue eyes onto her dark orbs. “Please,” he said again. Then he grabbed the girl by her skinny bird arm and pulled her toward the door. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 08:12 PM Post #180 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Thu May 15, 2008 1:20 pm Drake Drake thought that Linnette shouldn't be so calm about what she had done to her hand. When she poked at the tender flesh he cast his green eyes to her face, watching her reaction. She flinched and grit her teeth in pain, but her hazel eyes were eerily emotionless. The Spaniard lifted the back of his index finger to his lip, watching Linnette flex the fingers into her palm and wince again. He lifted his eyebrows expecting some ... remorse, some emotion about what sshe had done - but instead she just looked apathetic. Placing her hand back into his, Drake used his thumb to push her little finger back a little so that it did not cast a shadow on the wounded skin.
He looked from the swollen flesh to her face and sighed, nodding his head in defeat. He recognised that he was just a push-over where Linnette was concerned ,but really... what else was he to do? Carry her over his shoulder kicking and screaming to the infirmary and have her hate him forever more? No. He would do what he could for her and then keep an eye on it. If it got any worse he would put her over his shoulder, kicking and screaming or not, and bring her to the infirmary. Drake picked up the cloth again, and instead of dabbing at the abrased skin on her palm, he did what he had done on the other hand, letting the water dribble down her palm to the bowl in her lap. He continued in silence until he was certain all the dirt was gone. He glanced up at Linnette quickly. "It's clean." he told her, taking the bowl from her lap and placing it on the ground next to him. He squeezed the cloth out as much as he could and then ripped a strip of it off. It was cold so it would do good for the swelling. He was focussed on what he was doing now, pulling her hand gently closer to him. Drake wrapped the cloth around her thumb and wrist twice before tucking the ends in under the wrapped about strips. He turned her hand one way and the other, making sure the thing would stay put. Sighing, Drake sat back on his heels again and wiped his wet hands on the sleeves of his tunic. "You won't do anything like that again, will you?" he asked in a quiet, husky tone of voice, a mixture of mild disapproval and minor concern. He wanted to tell her flat out that she wasn't to do it again, but it was not his place to do so. Perhaps he would say it to Derfel about her ... ? |
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