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| May 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 18 2010, 02:23 AM (3,620 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 06:14 PM Post #316 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Tue May 27, 2008 2:03 pm Mari Mari was a special kind of person. She had been hurt, broken and abused but she still did not think bad of people. She was relieved to have realised who had hurt her because it left her able to trust as she had done before. Mari didn't have it in her to distrust all and sundry, to be suspicious and angry towards people who had done her no harm. IT was that innocence, it was that grace, that let her smile even though the man who was climbing out of the muck beside her was not one bit happy. The dark haired girl gave a small squeek when he grabbed her cloak, hauling her bodily out of the muck and setting her onto her feet. She shook her head, splattering bits of muck against the male and plastered her hand against her forehead, pushing her hair out of her face so that she could see her rescuer. "Thank you - thank you so much! I might have been in there another half a day before I could have gotten out myself. Gods - how very clumsy of me .." she murmured, turning to look at the puddle over her shoulder. There was nothing for it, she was going to have to go bathe again.
Mari looked towards the man and grimaced at the muck that stained him now too. She had the decency to blush and the redness was visible as the rain started to wash away the worst of the mud so far. Her wide brown eyes lifted to his and she gave a sheepish smile, oblivious to how close she was to being clocked on the head and drowned in a pool of water. Her long eyelashes batted and she dipped her head a little, rubbing a hand over her forearm slowly before shrugging into her cloak deeper for warmth. She took a step backwards - "I am so very sorry for muddying you up, Sir. Can I .. buy you lunch as an apology?!" Mari jumped on the offer with wide, innocent eyes, taking another step back and thumbing in the direction of the tavern, her other hand sliding to the pouch at her waist which held the pouch of money that the Optio had given her. Catherine Catherine knew her place. She did not move from where he left her, remaining upon her back, her clothes in bunched disarray. She tilted one leg inwards a little, more to get the feeling back in her lower leg than for propriety. Her breathing was still heavy, her body still reeling from the pleasure as Tristan lay against her side. The blonde held her breath as best she could, casting a cautious green eye to the side, wondering why he remained in such clsoe contact - when she saw him though, his eyes focussed on the ceiling she knew that it was just happenstance. Unfortunately. It was another of those tender moments that meant more to her than the act of spreading her legs for his pleasure. Her smile was wan, her eyes blinking slowly as she sighed. Tristan sat up and Catherine thought that she might ask him some questions - this was her time, she always thought, after the deed was done when a man was biddable, she asked the questions that would slake her thirst for knowledge. She knew that Tristan was going to have to leave soon and she regretted that - though a part of her knew that even if he had have stayed around that she would not have gotten much out of him, not and keep his custom.
The whore smiled at Tristan, looking away with a blush to her cheeks when he turned his head. He looked abashed which she found strange. What was he abashed about? The scout donned his trousers again and Catherine sat up on the bed, gently pushing her skirt down and wrapping one arm about her bared breasts. They felt tender after brushing against Tristan's tunic so hard earlier but she made no mention or hint of it as she pulled the material of her bodice up gently, her head tilted to one side. Her blonde hair spilled down one shoulder, her immaculately clean skin seemed to glow in the dingy setting of the Knight's room. "Not always.." she smiled in response to his earlier statement, not taking offense at it. In fact she thought it might be a hint of a compliment that she had been able to find pleasure with him when it had been so rushed. Hearing the scrape of coins on the table, Catherine's head lifted and she looked at Tristan's face, down to the coins and felt that familiar acidic taste rise in her throat when it came to this part of her job. She balked. Swallowing hard, her eyes darted downwards to her shaky fingers on the laces of her bodice and she went to stand, blushing furiously. "You have to leave." she said, biting her bottom lip as her fingers got caught in the laces of her bodice. She sighed, eyebrows rising as she focussed on tightening them without looking like a complete inept clutz. Gods but she despised this side of her job. It was nothing to her to spread her legs for a man, but accepting coin for it, asking for coin for it, taking coin for it - it just made the whole affair seem sordid and filthy. Dirty. Suddenly Catherine could feel the mud about her ankles from the rain. She could feel the mussed knots of her perfect hair, the scent of lovemaking upon her skin instead of her usual jasmine oils. Getting her laces done, Catherine smiled at Tristan and stepped forward, clearing her throat softly as she reached out for the money, her fingers shaking and her entire posture obviously hinting at discomfort. There was too much -- ! The blonde left one coin on the table, sliding the rest into the pouch at her waist where it clinked against the Carthage coin she had intended for Gawain. It seemed an age ago that she had been herself with the blonde Knight. Catherine started to back away, smiling over her shoulder as she turned to walk towards the door. "Come back safely Tristan." she told him quietly, her eyes dropping before she turned back to face front, the bile rising in her throat. Galahad Galahad liked to think he was unreadable. As unreadable as the other Knights when in fact he was as easy to read as a children's book. He noticed the easing of tension in Gawain and wondered why the hell the other Knight had been so wound up in the first place. Normally Gawain was the calm one, the collected one of them. Did he really look that bad that he had his brother so worked up, Galahad thought.
Galahad frowned, looking down at the ground, his upper lip lifting upwards a fraction as he scuffed his boot against the ground guiltily. His eyebrows were dipped down in a sharp 'v' between his blue eyes and his fists were balled up tightly as he shoved the image of Alina out of his head, the thoughts that she had been kissing another man. He didn't want to deal with that right now. Or ever. Maybe it hadn't been her? Sighing, the youngest knight rubbed a hand against the back of his neck sheepishly, the skin soaking wet. "No, nothing to tell. Wonder how Arthur is though... " he murmured sulkily, shifting his weight a little. The silence stretched between them. Galahad glanced up at Gawain, his earlier question regarding Brianna forgotten as he wondered if he might ask Gawain's advice. Maybe he could get him to ask Alina if she was seeing someone else. Or maybe him and Gawain could corner the man she had been canoodling with and grill him about what was going on between them... ?
The Sarmatian huffed out a resigned breath and nodded his head. He didn't moan about Gawain mothering him at all, but did as he was told, hitching his dark hood up over his curly wet black hair. He felt like a drowned rat. "'K." he sighed, trudging out into the rain behind Gawain, shrugging into his cloak with a rueful glare towards the sky. "Does it ever do anything but bloody rain on this damn island?" he snarked, his teeth chattering with cold as he trotted a few steps to catch up with Gawain's longer stride. HE fell into pace besides the blonde knight and bowed his head, watching where he put his feet. The ground had turned to slush with all the rain melting the snow that had fallen. "I hope Linnette isn't here..." he said gloomily, trotting up the steps of the infirmary and pushing open the door. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 06:16 PM Post #317 |
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Author: Lancelot Date: Tue May 27, 2008 2:11 pm Lancelot
You say you know me best of all? And you'd lie in order to 'protect' me? A little bit more of Lancelot's shielded heart was exposed, and he cursed inwardly. Not what he wanted - he wanted nothing shared with this man right now - not anything. And yet in his wavering fatigue, he found he turned his body completely to listen to the rest of what Arthur had to say. Thankfully, the Roman drank some of the watered wine; it would hopefully bolster his strength a bit for the coming conversation that Lancelot knew Arthur would allow the Optio to run roughshod over.
Lancelot sighed roughly and put his hand on Arthur's door latch. "The only reason I concern myself with him is because his behavior reflects on all of us. All of us, Arthur. And he could use that to his advantage - especially with you injured - and because of my ... anger, earlier." He laughed quietly. "I am not so intellegent around you, sometimes." He opened the door and stepped out into the (thankfully) empty hall. "I shall check on Dagonet. And report to you this evening, commander." Without further ado, Lancelot shut the door and hustled back toward his own quarters. The feeling in Arthur's rooms was getting too close by far - and he needed to breathe. He needed to think, and bathe, and get some food - and see to his fellow knights. Then, he would rest. Reaching his room, he rested against the inside of the door for a moment, allowing his shoulders to droop and his body to quiver briefly. He stumbled to his bed, and sat heavily on the small thing, noticing that the chamber maid that took care of the knight's measily accomodations had been through his area. The peat and coal in the brazier were new, and his window was cracked to allow fresh air to seep in. Lancelot kicked off his boots and padded on silent feet to the niche that was under the window, and vaulted as nimbly as he could into it. Resting his chin in his hand, he shut his eyes and lay his forehead against the cool glass. He'd head to the stores in a bit, to look through Tor's things. But first...he'd let his head stop spinning. When he opened his eyes, they were wet and achey, and a swear word slithered out of his mouth like a dangerous snake that no one saw before it struck. Wiping at his eyes, he got down from the window seat, and ripped off his dirty vest and Arthur's tunic. And I expect you to return this to me….without damage….later, hm? A small smile twisted Lancelot's angular mouth, and he folded the garment carefully. He'd drop it off with the washing women to make sure it was clean before Arthur got it back. Biting his lip, he decided to cut his bandage free, and retrieved his knife from his vest pocket. The wound itself, when exposed, looked alright - nothing too serious, as he'd told Neeve. She'd done an excellent job of patching it. He splashed it with water, and when it didn't bleed again, wrapped it tightly with a fresh bandage from the kit he kept under his bed. Hesitating, he removed the pendant he always wore from around his neck, and wound the cord about the metal lion. Placing it carefully in with the bandages and few small things of home he kept, he shut the lid of the box and placed it back under his bed. For some reason...he needed the weight of home off his chest to think. He pressed his fingers to his lips, and then lay them on the top of the box. Elaine, sister. You have no idea how much you gave me when you gave me this. Lancelot pulled on a clean but old tunic and threw his other leather jacket on over his lean body. Toeing back on his boots, he exited his room and strode out in the rainy courtyard, headed toward the stores. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 06:17 PM Post #318 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Tue May 27, 2008 2:18 pm Kolya Oh this was bad... this was very, very bad. Kolya hadn't expected Alina to actually fall for him at all. And he was telling himself that he hadn't fallen for her at all, as per his plans. It was just sex. That was all. He frowned, looking down at teh top of her head as she embraced him. It seemed awkward at first but she slipped away before he could make it more comfortable. The Sarmatian flinched and half turned, gritting his teeth as he peered into the nothingness of the grey rain streaking down from the heavens. A strong, calloused hand lifted to his face and he brushed it down from his forehead to his bearded chin, sloshing water away from his troubled visage. He turned back to look at Alina darting away and lifted his face to the sky. "Fuck." he murmured, wiping the back of his hand against his lips and stormed off back towards the fortress. HE needed to sit and think. He wanted a fucking drink but he knew that if he got drunk he'd end up finding Alina and screwing her senseless because he now knew that he could. She had fallen for him, somewhere along the way. And he had done nothing to stop it. OF course he had not fallen for her - oh no no no . That wasn't possible. He wasn't able to feel. Mari had said so. So had Alina. He couldn't feel for anyone but himself. Could he? Amadeus Amadeus had it all thought out - very careful. In all situations there was a victim, an antagonist and a rescuer. In this instance he would be the victim, Lancelot could be the antagonist and Arthur, dear Arthur, he could be the rescuer. It would be complicated in more ways than one to keep himself squirming on his belly in front of the Commander but the Optio dare not anger him as he had done earlier. It served no purpose whatsoever, excepting the fact that it no doubt hurt Arthur physically due to whatever injury he was hiding. Returning to the Commander's door, Amadeus rapped twice and on hearing a husky voice ordering him to enter, he pushed open the door and stepped inside. Sharp grey eyes swung around the room ensuring it was indeed void of Lancelot and any other vermin that Castus kept near him. Satisfied, Amadeus drew a wan smile to his thin lips and inclined his head. "Commander - thank you for granting me this audience. These are not matters I would like to unfold before anyone else but yourself for they teeter on the boundaries of terrible wrong-doings and misdeeds." the Optio intoned sincerely, walking to the centre of the room and placing his hands behind his back. He turned to look at Arthur, his sharp features looking tense and his stance almost defensive. YEt there was a level of strength there too. It looked like he was holding his breath and indeed, after a short moment he did release a heavy sigh, his posture slouched and he lifted a hand to his forehead, rubbing his fingers against the tight skin wearily. "I think you may have guessed what, or rather who, it is that I wish to speak to you about, hm? We both know what happened in this room earlier today with that particular Knight... we both know that his actions are well and above the classifcation of insubordination and only upon your kind, thoughtful and quick intervention did it stop there. Arthur..." Amadeus looked truly hurt that he was speaking these words, truly worried about what might have been, what might be in the future, "The penatly for assaulting a superior officer is no less than death. Things... He cannot be allowed to go so far. And .. " he tsked gently, frowning, sighing and looking down, troubled, "It pains me to say this but... I feel my position, status and reputation to be undermined when I am dressed down in front of your Sarmatians whilst they are defended and protected. I think it improper and dangerous for it leads to such ill actions as seen in this very room not one hour past..." Amadeus stopped, his eyebrows lifted, his expression hurt, vulnerable, pleading. All a wondrous act, of course. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 06:22 PM Post #319 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Tue May 27, 2008 2:30 pm Arthur
….and then he was gone leaving Arthur alone with his lingering thoughts on what had just transpired between them. The Commander had only shaken his head in both understanding and agreement with Lancelot before the knight exited the room. But what of the ache deep within Arthur’s chest? What of the need to protect the Sarmatian? And what if Lancelot would be justified in his concerns over Scipio? What if the Optio attempted to use Lancelot’s rash behavior to his advantage? Arthur finished his wine and while he sat the mug back down on the small table, he sighed and pinched shut his eyes. Arthur was exhausted….still quite weak from blood loss and the infection he’d fought in the wound only yesterday. One more meeting and then he would rest. A knock came at the door and thus Arthur called out his permission for whomever to enter…. The door opened and as expected, the Optio stepped into the room and approached Arthur as the Roman stiffly rose up from a chair at the table. Arthur desperately needed rest, but first he would keep his word and hear out whatever Amadeus wished to discuss. The Commander presumed Scipio had requested this private audience to address some last minute concern over the meeting with Merlin….but unfortunately that was not the case as Arthur would quickly learn.
“Oh?” Arthur managed without concealing his surprise and while attempting to stretch to his full height, which only brought on a grimace that forced him to place a hand over his stitches. Terrible wrong-doings? Arthur’s brows stitched together in concern as emerald eyes met Amadeus’ grey gaze. The Optio’s impeccable dress and official manner served him well….as Arthur found himself feeling somewhat ashamed of his current weakened physical state and casual dress, and thus more vulnerable than usual.
Lancelot. God damn his impetuous actions. The Commander had thought the incident averted….but at seeing the determination and ‘pride’ in the Optio’s steel grey eyes…..Arthur’s gut twisted into a knot at the thought of what Amadeus might actually want in retribution.
Arthur chewed at the insides of his mouth nearly tasting his own blood; his emerald eyes flared with his displeasure regardless of his calm exterior…anger threatened to well up inside of him despite the fact that Scipio was well within his right to name Lancelot an insubordinate. Arthur’s mind began to churn with how best to deal with this…how best to explain away Lancelot’s rash actions and how to keep the Sarmatian from the noose if the Optio pressed the matter. And why now when there was a much greater threat to the whole fortress? Merlin could attack again at any moment.
Arthur knew that each point and every point in Amadeus’ speech were valid and well within the Optio’s rights as an officer in the Roman army. However….however…Arthur knew very well how to best manage his men…his Sarmatians in particular. And Rome’s way was not always the best course. Arthur slightly lifted his chin and exhaled before opening his mouth in retort. Amadeus was clearly ambitious and that may work to Arthur’s disadvantage here…but, God willing, he might yet be able to salvage Lancelot from the wrath of the Roman army. “Please accept my sincere apology, Optio Scipio,” Arthur finally answered in an official tone and with a courteous nod to the ‘proper’ Roman officer before him. “Lancelot’s actions will not go unpunished. I give you my word. And he will not threaten you again,” Arthur stated convincingly as he held Amadeus’ gaze. The Commander had already sternly reminded his lieutenant of the consequences should Lancelot attempt such a foolish show of insubordination again. And Arthur was confident that Lancelot had actually listened to him this time. As for the actual punishment….Arthur would see to that personally after Scipio had rode out today. “However, I would remind you that the Sarmatians are not of the same military minds as Roman officers such as yourself,” Arthur continued with a brief gesture towards Amadeus’ person and withholding any sarcasm or accusation from his voice. “Lancelot can be cantankerous, but he is the fiercest warrior and most loyal of my men. I owe my life to him many times over and he has served me well for many years, Amadeus,” Arthur paused long enough to reach up and rub two fingers over his mouth and carefully choose his next words. “I would ask that you respect the bond between myself and my knights. And in return, I will see to it that they give you the proper respect that you are due as an officer of the Roman army…and their superior officer. But do not question their loyalty and bond to me….for it is strong and Lancelot only acted in protection of that bond earlier,” |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 06:24 PM Post #320 |
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Author: sabor ice Date: Tue May 27, 2008 2:36 pm Ash & Milan
The rain and the muck did not phase Ash. He had lived in worse conditions many-a-time before. This street urchin had evolved into a bigger bother than he had anticipated. He watched her with indifference in his narrowed eyes, perplexed over how she was able to act so casually in the face of the death - she really was a pathetic little loon, and he would've been doing society a favor by drowning her. Not that he would ever be happy to help out the Romans, but Ash remembered the extensive pain in his side from when she had caused him to fall. She could've been the death of him, and such a threat was not one Ash took lightly. His fingers itched anxiously by his side, as he took a step back and warily lowered to reach for the knife in his boot, a savage light to his face as he peered up at the young woman. Suddenly something caught Ash's attention and he stood ram-rod straight - heavy footsteps sloshing through the rain. His dark eyes flashed about his surroundings until they fell upon a pale-faced boy. There was a hint of uncertainty about his features, although there was also a look of something else - determination perhaps? Ash looked between the boy and the girl, suddenly understanding - he was coming to the rescue of his little whore. The Woad snickered under his breath as the boy watched him fire-eyed and defensively, hovering nearby and circling closer to the girl. The boy seemed as impeccably incapable of standing up for his whore as his whore was of shutting the fuck up. It would've been far too easy for Ash to befall them both, but surely someone would bound to notice two children's corpses littering the ground - it was too risky and clearly not worth the effort on his part. They were of no concern to him. Milan's jaw hardened, his teeth clenched so tightly they were bound to break soon, as he watched the mysterious dark stranger tote himself away. His footsteps were hasty then as he went to Mari's side, his hand darting out for her elbow and pulling her close to him. His expression was not cross as he peered down at her dirty face, just a mixture of worry and inquisitiveness. His blue eyes warily glanced back in the direction of the stranger, his brow softening a bit as he looked back to Mari again. His troubled gaze seemed to question what she was doing. A lump formed in his throat at the thought of what might've happened to her again had he not been there. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 06:26 PM Post #321 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Tue May 27, 2008 2:42 pm Amadeus Arthur's reaction to the mention of Lancelot was... interesting. It was a weakness - Amadeus wondered if the Commander knew that. He wondered if Arthur realised that anyone could come along and destroy Arthur CAstus by annihilating his First Knight. The weak link. The Achille's heel of this entire fortress was that stubborn, stiff-necked, audacious, hot-headed, dog of a Sarmatian, Lancelot! It was laughable, at least it would be if it wasn't so bloody serious.
So far so good.. Amadeus tensed his sharp jaw and nodded his head curtly at Arthur's apology. He managed to still look offended, wronged. Righteous. That was one thing that Amadeus did well - righteousness. It may have had something to do with his honourable lineage - from the great Scipio's of the battle of Carthage. Who else in this laughable unit could possibly claim the same? Who else could stand upright and declare that their blood was too good to be spilled on this land? Amadeus would die for Britain, die for Badon, but not without a fight, an honourable fight amongst honourable men. Not damn Sarmatian beasts. However, the Optio was not entirely assuaged by Arthur's convincing apology. He took a deep breath and dropped his chin a fraction, looking at the commander with pursed lips as he continued.
Oh very nicely put! Very nicely phrased so that Amadeus, again, was made out to be in the wrong, villified, and Lancelot was glorified! Amadeus' grey eyes flashed but he quickly ducked his head, looking at the ground whilst ARthur continued about bonds and such things that should have meant nothing to a Roman Commander worth his salt. The Sarmatians should have followed orders like any other soldier in the Legion. Why did they receive special treatment just because they were Arthur's pets? Why could they get away with all that they did just because they were ... they were .. they were bloody slaves for the love of God! "I would not dream of questionning their bond or loyalty to you, Commander, I am... however, concerned that there is an aggressive vendetta against that which is wholesome and Roman amongst the Sarmatians. I do not doubt their loyalty to you, but I cannot help but question it to the Empire. As Rome's officially sanctioned second in Command, I am morbidly concerned that my position here amongst all the soldiers is undermined by the attitude and near insubordination of Lancelot." the Optio said with a wary lift to his eyebrows, a pleading cast to his eyes for understanding. He grimaced, sucking air in between his teeth. "With that said, might I enquire as to how you intend to punish Lancelot for his actions earlier? I would think it prudent that I be there since I was the one offended... " the man said as naturally as a leaf is green. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 06:27 PM Post #322 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Tue May 27, 2008 2:54 pm Tristan
She dropped her eyes on those words, seeming to shy away from him a bit; in fact, her whole demeanor had become uncomfortable, hesitant, ever since she had gone to pick up the coins. And she had left one of them on the table, which didn't sit will with Tristan at all. He threw in a little extra for a reason- as a way of avoiding entanglements. But entangled was just what he was beginning to feel right now, and it wasn't a happy feeling. Her refusal of that last coin, the hint of affection behind her wish for his safety, more sincere than might have been expected of a virtual stranger, her slim figure and bright blonde hair...she reminded him of Einin, he thought with a sudden jolt that was almost a physical sensation. She reminded him of Einin, and of how he had ruined things with her by his own foolish actions. Or maybe things had always been ruined. He wasn't the type of man a woman ought to want- he hadn't been capable of love for a very long time. And now she was turning to go- without taking that last coin. At the thought, however brief, of love, Tristan's eyes flicked over to his bed, to the floor beneath it, to where, unseen by either of them, Percival's things sat in a small box, the last pieces of him, the pieces that Tristan could not bear even for Einin to disturb. They would stay there as long as Tristan lived- but this damn coin wouldn't. Shaking off hesitation, Tristan took a smooth step towards Catherine as she turned away from him, palming the coin surreptitiously as he did so- with any luck she would not even know it was in his hand. "So far I've been lucky," he remarked in a low murmur, in response to her well-wishes. He put his hands on her waist- she wasn't quite as small as Einin had been, of course- and ducked his head to her neck again, just resting his lips there, as if his only reason for doing that was because he wanted this last embrace before she left. As he held her, though, one long, slender hand was discreetly slipping the coin into her pouch- as slowly as he could, so that it did not even make a clink. "Don't get too wet," he added gruffly, reaching out and putting up her hood for her as he stepped away. He was not even sure himself where that almost-affectionate gesture had come from. From some pie-in-the-sky fantasy of Einin, maybe, and one which he should be careful to forget all about. She was gone, and better off that way. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 06:28 PM Post #323 |
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Author: linnet Date: Tue May 27, 2008 8:21 pm Gawain and Mother Lavinia
Gawain forced out a short breath of exasperation and amusement. He would have bet every coin he had that they wouldn’t get from the doorway to the infirmary before Galahad complained about something. And putting money on the complaint being about the weather would have been too easy. If there was anything to gripe about, Galahad couldn’t let it pass. But Gawain felt there was an edge right now to Galahad’s moaning that wasn’t usually there. The weather was taking the brunt for whatever really was bothering the younger knight.
As he walked through the door that Galahad held open, Gawain frowned at the comment about Linnette. “Why?’ he asked, stopping just inside the door to look at Galahad. It had seemed like a strange, out of nowhere, statement. “We’ll wait here to ask someone about Dag.” Gawain didn’t know where in the infirmary Dag was, and he didn’t want to go wandering around looking for him, disturbing others’ privacy. So he stood near the door, dripping onto the wooden floorboards, hoping for a nurse to come by. Spotting trouble, Lavinia made a bee line for the two wet knights that had just walked in. “You’re too late,” she said, flicking her hands at them as if to shoo them out like stray dogs. “I broke the party up earlier, Bors drank all the spirits, and he and Dagonet are resting – not to be disturbed for the time being.” The nun looked Gawain up and down. “I told you this morning to come back in a week for your arm. It’s been five hours. That’s not a week.” Gawain looked at Galahad and shrugged his shoulders. He shifted his gaze to the old woman and tried to give her his most irresistible smile. “Take it easy, Lavinia. We just wanted to know how Dagonet is doing.” He had no idea what she meant about Bors and spirits. “He’ll recover eventually if he’s allowed to build up his strength,” she replied, almost civilly. Then she turned her attention from Gawain to Galahad. “And you. I thought Alina was ‘taking care’ of you. So where is she? We’re swamped here, and I could use her. Please tell the free spirit that if she wants to continue earning a living as a healer, showing up for work is highly recommended.” |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 06:29 PM Post #324 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Tue May 27, 2008 9:26 pm Vanora Vanora really didn't know what else to say to the grief stricken young woman, so she thought it best to offer her company to Linette and just be there. Deep down, she wished that she could do more for Linnette, but there was no way to heal sorrow. Her motherly instincts still kicked in though, and the only other thing she could think of that usually offered comfort to her children, though Linnette was not one, was to just hold them close and let them cry...
Vanora reached into her apron pocket and pulled out the wages she handed out at the end of the day. She had Thorn's pay with her, and knew that if she was in Linnette's place, every bit of coin would help. Taking out some coins, Vanora lay them on the table in front of Linnette, "Please, accept this as an advancement on your pay to help out with food and such..." Vanora gave her a slight smile. She had wanted to give Linnette a raise for a while now, and now seemed like a good time. She placed the pouch back in her apron, and stood from where she sat. Linnette had lowered her head and was looking at her bandaged hand, then at the other one, and arranged the handkerchief over the scratches as if padding it to make writing easier...
"You can keep it as long as you need it, dear, " Vanora smiled. She had held up very well, but inside she felt like weeping for Linnette and sharing in her grief. Surely, the gods would bless Linnette with someone else, but now was a time for grieving. "There is no need to return it. There are lots more where that came from." Vanora turned to the door, then looked back at Linnette, then moved over the the young owman and bent over to give Linnette a comforting hug. She had done all she could, and this always seemed to help... "I just wish there was more I could do." |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 06:30 PM Post #325 |
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Author: sabor ice Date: Tue May 27, 2008 10:39 pm Cáel Good heavens, what a catastrophe Badon Hill was in appearance! Certainly Cáel had expected a much more humble abode than Eburacum, but this...this was border-lining unlivable. Surely he would be donned a savior, and be set within the Gods good graces forevermore just for rescuing Gabriel's children from such a dismal fate! They would thrive back at Eburacum, live fuller and more fruitful lives, and all thanks to him! Of course, the Goth could never truly know this for certain - after he sold them, they'd no longer be his concern - but regret he had never taken a liking to. His lack of conscience did not allow it. "Well, hello there!" Cáel chirped cheerfully, half-lidded eyes meeting that of a sickly looking stable hand. He swung down from the saddle and began tugging at the ties that held his belongings in place as the boy dutifully stepped forward to take charge of the horse. The Goth threw the bags over one shoulder after securing his sword at his waist. The weapon was such a trifle, dreadfully heavy thing, but certain precautions were necessary. He turned back toward the lad, who immediately averted his curious gaze. Cáel looked on with a crooked smile, digging his hand into a pocket and retrieving two coins. "Be a good lad and look after my horse, won't you? There'll be more where this came from," the Goth said, with a wink. He slipped the money into the boy's hand as he passed him, not pausing to admire the gratefulness that flooded the child's features over his unconditional generosity. Cáel whistled a merry tune whilst strolling back out into the rain. He wanted to take care of this business venture as soon as possible, of course, but he saw no reason to hurry. He was weary from traveling, and nothing sounded more inviting to him at the moment than a hot meal - and with any luck, some handsome company. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 06:31 PM Post #326 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Wed May 28, 2008 6:29 am Linnette
"Thanks." Linnette twisted in her chair to accept Vanora's hug, then half-turned and gestured to the coins Vanora had set on the desk with one hand. "I...I don't really need this...money's not a problem, just so you know." She held Vanora's gaze and shrugged with a good approximation of nonchalance as they broke the embrace. It was true- she had plenty of money. She made good wages and didn't spend extravagantly, not to mention she was half-owner of the Villa Rosarum if it came down to that. No, basic material needs were not an issue for her- thank God. Money was about the last thing she was worrying about right now, and she didn't want anyone to think that she was in need of monetary charity- any more than she was in need of someone to do her work for her. Matter-of-factly, she pushed the coins Vanora had given her a bit closer to the other woman, towards the edge of the table, giving her a silent opportunity to take them back if she wanted. Not that Linnette expected her to- but she wasn't going to be seen just pocketing them, either. If Vanora left them, she would put them away once the other woman had left. They weren't exactly charity- just an advance, as Vanora had said, and Linnette's bookkeeping would scrupulously reflect that. "But I appreciate it," she added with a small smile, leaning forward and adjusting the pen in her hand as she prepared to write. Her eyes were dry for the moment, and if she could just get this done all in one burst, so she didn't have to sit here longer than she had to, it would be a blessing- a load off her mind, before she turned to the even more exhausting task of moving rooms. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 06:33 PM Post #327 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Wed May 28, 2008 7:09 am Arthur Amadeus appeared to at least accept Arthur’s apology on behalf of Lancelot…yet…yet…the impeccably dressed Optio still gave off the impression of one offended; as if he yet had more to say on the matter. The Commander was unmoved simply due to the fact that he’d been defending his Sarmatians for years….and Arthur was Scipio’s superior officer. The Optio would accept the Commander’s final word on the matter. End of story. Besides, Lancelot had not been successful in his intentions earlier….no doubt a blade and bloodshed if Arthur had not intervened.
During Amadeus’ little speech on attitudes and loyalty, an outwardly patient Arthur slightly arched his brows and gave the impression of sincere interest. He carefully folded his arms over his chest; expression neutral with the typical façade that Arthur wore so well in front of almost everyone. Yet, one thing began to stand out in Arthur’s mind: this man spoke with the tongue of a politician more than that of any typical officer in the Roman army. And Lancelot’s words of warning suddenly jerked into Arthur’s mind: Arthur, he is not to be trusted. I can feel it. And Scipio seemed to harp on the same point that Lancelot could not see beyond: ‘Officially sanctioned second.’
Prudent? Arthur inwardly scoffed while his index finger tapped twice on his forearm. Was the Optio implying that he did not trust the Commander would carry out a punishment? Artorius Castus was nothing if not a man of his word. Anger surfaced again despite Arthur’s weakened condition and the discomfort still vibrating out from his stitched up wound. He imperiously lifted his chin and set his jaw; emerald eyes once again shimmering with the ferocity of his will and spirit. “You need not concern yourself with Lancelot’s punishment. You will ride out to face Merlin as I have instructed without further delay. That is most imperative in order to avoid further attacks and bloodshed and should be foremost in your thoughts, Optio Scipio,” Arthur stated in a tone that would brook no argument and a voice with the timber of fur sheathed iron. His posture that every bit ‘Roman Commander’ despite the fact that his body was near collapse from lack of nourishment and proper rest. But Arthur’s sheer determination to fulfill his duty and see to the safety of the fortress drove him now….and his anger at supposedly being challenged in his decision making by one of his officers who obviously knew him not. Arthur paused long enough to be sure Amadeus remembered his place here. “Have no further concerns on the matter of Lancelot’s punishment. I do not allow insubordination of any kind from any man. I will deal with him appropriately. And have no fear, Amadeus. My faith in God and my allegiance to Rome are of highest priority….my men understand and respect that as conscripts in the Emperor’s army,” Arthur continued, intense emerald eyes fixed on the prudent grey ones of Scipio. “I have entrusted you with a most urgent and important task….that is all you need be focused on,” Arthur added with a slight dip of his chin and a deceptive flicker of trust in his green eyes. Amadeus had yet to prove himself to Arthur, but the Commander chose to have faith in the man’s abilities. But as Lancelot so often reminded him, Arthur trusted too easily too often. Would he regret sending this obviously ambitious Roman officer to make treaty with the Woad leader? Emerald eyes slightly narrowed at Amadeus as Arthur did not bother to hide how he closely regarded the man….he searched Scipio’s angular features for some indication of the man’s metal. This shrewd tactic of assessment was often unnerving to lesser men....Arthur Castus was after all an imposing figure with his tall broad stature and piercing emerald eyes. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 06:34 PM Post #328 |
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Author: Unicorn Date: Wed May 28, 2008 9:03 am Dagonet Dagonet was looking into his brother's eyes waiting for what he was going to say next. There weren't any perfect words that would wave his pain away... there was nothing more to say to diminish his sorrow. Nothing could be done to him... He felt so bad and lost. He was glad that he had not been left on the battlefield, but instead taken back here... but still there was strong bulge of guilt inside his heart... strong bulge of want to be dead also. He could not help anybody right now and was holding to life with all his streanghts not knowing why. Linnette was alone now and he could not go to her to help or to say something more than that he was sorry.
Dagonet's thoughts were broken by Bors's voice... Fighting... He was fighting his whole life... he could not remember a day without a fight in his life, fight on the outside with blood and pain and fight inside his heart. He was constantly fighting... He was tired. He was tired of being always strong and steady. Five years... is a long time. A very long time here. And Dagonet was not proud right now... He lost his children, one because of Saoirse's actions... or rather her haritage and the decision she made for both of them, one he lost because of himself. He should be more carefull there! How many times in his life he will say this in his mind? How many years have to pass to stop living in guilt? The tall knight bowed his head and shook it slightly. As Bors ended, or rather just stoped talking, Dagonet looked back at him and frowned slightly. "And then what, Bors?" he asked. He sighed and allowed himself to briefly closed his eyes, his exhaustion and pain overburding him in the moment, what was probably plainly visible on his face. "I am tired, friend. I'm tired of fighting... I don't know how long I can go on. I am so tired of this blood, killing and.... death." |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 06:35 PM Post #329 |
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Author: SarmatianKnight Date: Wed May 28, 2008 12:32 pm Lucius When Lucius recognised the expression in her eyes he hoped indeed that he would never ever be the reason for Saoirse to be really angry and mad. No doubt that woman was able to kick. Hard. And of course she had to think that he was odd: entering the room and telling her more or less twice that she was gorgeous while they did not know each other. If a man would have told his younger sister back then in Venice such a thing he would have risked to be hit himself although Lucius was no one who was looking for a fight. But sometimes stepping in was necessary. At least his correction about her look was not answered with a hit. Lucius took that as a good sign as good as the more or less wry amusement he heard in her snort. She looked at him and tried to... what? Read him? See something? Maybe. Her reaction told him that she was either not happy with the result or unable to get any result at all. Again, he could not tell for sure. He ignored he pleading look and did not let go of her hand to keep her from running. It would have been an action without thinking and that was certainly never a good thing to do. As difficult as it was: first thinking, then doing. And then the look was back: the glaring and the threatening. Lucius heard the hiss that left her lips when she sat back dowwn on the ground next to him but misunderstood it as he took it as unhappiness and dissatisfaction with the whole situation. He had no idea that she was injured herself. When she sat there the Roman released her wrist, slowly and ready to grasp it again if she tried to run. His fingers still rested on her arm. But beside trying to fulfill Derfel's request and find the best way for the sad woman sitting next to him, he also tried not to be hit or bitten or anything similar. He was quite sure that she left the running behind when he leaned her head against back against the wall and when she withdrew her hand he let her do so. He saw her rubbing her wrist and he hoped that his grip had not been too tight.
He could not help but smile slightly. The glaring was still there but this time it looked different to him and so he dared to add: ... which will take a while." Again, he did not mean to offend her but he had the feeling that she was a woman who could deal with such a comment. The confirmation followed immediatly:
Now this time it was up to Lucius to give her a more than surprised look from beneath a raised eyebrow. Her in his bed?! There was just one thing these words could mean where he was coming from. "This is an infirmary, good gracious!" He sounded seriously shocked.
It took a few seconds to get that certain image out of his mind again before he was able to answer. "Lucius Cassius Aquila." And as always it was pure reflex that let him list his full name. It was not easy to break with old traditions and education. "Lucius." he corrected because for the woman next to him this information was surely enough - and not helping anyway. "Solder under Captain Barbattus' command. I met Derfel in the chapel and he told me what happened. So, here we are." Lucius decided to keep the story as short as possible. It was not important if he had helped Derfel to get his wife back into their rooms or why he had agreed to visit a man he did not even know at all or why he had offered to find a woman he must not care about or why exactly he was sitting here with her and telling her twice that she was gorgeous. He was a soldier, he met Derfel, he was here. End of story. Lucius had learned through the last years that keeping stories short was a huge advantage at times. Not lying, just keeping things short. "Take the time you need. You want me to get anything for you?" And chaning the subject also helped always a lot to get away from the short stories. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 06:37 PM Post #330 |
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Author: Lancelot Date: Wed May 28, 2008 5:51 pm Lancelot The rain was pissing down; Lancelot cursed at the sky and hurried on toward his goal. He passed by the infirmary, noting Galahad and Gawain entering, but he was too far away to say anything to them. He would keep his promise, however, and see to Dagonet. The large man had always been kind to Lancelot - and despite Dagonet's constant calmness and ease of demeanor (which of course Lancelot could not understand), the first knight respected the older man. Begrudgingly, perhaps, but he still cared about what happened to him. The loss of a son was not easy - or at least Lancelot could only wager. Entering the storage area - he considered himself lucky he didn't run into the Woad girl or Malcus looking for clothing - he cocked an eyebrow at the legionary on duty, who looked as bored as Lancelot was sure he was. "Soldier - I need to access some of my kinsmen's things. Where are the trunks stored that house the things that belonged to the dead?" A bit morbid and to the point, but Lancelot didn't care. He was swaying from exhaustion, although he hid it well, and his sharp features were pinched and feral looking with his mood. ...and perhaps if that is enough to keep you safely within these walls, then I shall continue to lie to you. Lying. Lying to protect him. Lancelot bit his lip and followed the bored soldier to the very back of the dusty stores, where the things from the dead conscripts were kept. In typical fashion, some of it was gone - the Roman army definitely recycled things - but after the legionary had returned to his desk, Lancelot easily found Tor's trunk and located two pairs of leathers that were in decent shape. He held them up to his body, and nodded, thinking that they would do fine. Something else caught his eye, and he bent over the trunk. A fine dagger someone - another Sarmatian, no doubt - had hidden under the clothing. Lancelot stood for a moment, holding the blade in its buttery soft sheath, the leathers thrown over his shoulder, and contemplated taking the thing. After a moment, he cocked his head and spoke aloud, tone serious and words definitely meant. "My brother, I will honor this gift by killing as many Woads as I can with your steel. I thank you for the loan." He laughed and saluted the trunk sloppily, although he didn't notice it for his exhaustion. Closing the wooden box, Lancelot left the stores area, the "guard" not even noticing him doing so. He stood under the eaves of the building, holding off the rain as long as he could. Where was he bound, other than to check on his fellow knights? Do not concern yourself with Scipio. Malcus and Tristan will see to it that my orders are carried out and Merlin dealt with properly. We will speak later tonight once we have both rested, hm? Do not concern yourself. Get some rest, useless bastard. First knight - couldn't even see to keeping your own commander from being injured. Your own commander. Your own friend, the only one. The only true one who hadn't grown up with you from birth - Lancelot did love his fellows, but - this was different. Somehow, somewhere the gods thought it would be funny for him to have a Roman who loved him as much as any person ever had. And yet that Roman lied to him to protect him. After so many years, so many battles - Arthur had closed himself from Lancelot, after that night - after their - "Fuck." Was it really all Lancelot's fault? Was it not Arthur that had pushed him from the room, not wanting to touch him or to look at him again? Had told Lancelot to find another whore? Arthur was not a whore. He was - Lancelot had had to possess him. No other Roman man would ever dominate the Sarmatian again - but this Roman man - he wouldn't use his body as a weapon, unlike some. Unlike those that had - "Fuck this!" The wall next to his fist caught the brunt of his blow, and Lancelot's knuckles split and bled. He shook out his trembling fingers, and, biting his tongue so hard it also bled, forced his anger and hated emotion away from his brain. He imagined his thoughts and feelings like a bird - a big, ugly carrion bird that ate the remains of what other animals wouldn't touch. Only leftovers and scraps - and only dirty, rotten meat filled the world with its taste - he imagined himself, clean and uninjured, strong, his thighs gripping his horse (Diabolus, he reminded himself) as his bow brought down as many carrion birds as he could find. No more thoughts - no more feelings - just duty, and killing, and finally, his own freedom, be it a freedom filled with the dirt of the grave or with the wide open sky of his homeland. He didn't care which. He reached around to his back, to slide the new dagger - thank you, Tor - into a small pocket in the special sheaths he had for his double blades. Which weren't there. "Pissing - motherfucking - what in the great gods teeth!" He turned in a circle, looking ridiculously like a dog trying to find a warm spot at the hearth for the evening. And then he remembered. He could see his swords, leaning in the corner of Arthur's rooms, against Excalibur. "Gods DAMN IT." In his idiotic haste to be away from Arthur, he had forgotten his own weapons. The things that kept him alive, kept him at Arthur's side, kept the might of the Empire off his back. Oh, Lancelot. You great fool. He prayed to whomever was listening - funny, that - that Scipio was gone, and began the wet walk back to Arthur's quarters. |
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