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May 2008
Topic Started: Mar 18 2010, 02:23 AM (3,617 Views)
golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Pinkie
Date: Sat May 31, 2008 2:55 pm
Saoirse


Lucius
 
"This is an infirmary, good gracious!"


Saoirse's question as to his identity was partly muffled by
his stunned exclamation. For a moment Saoirse just looked at
him as if he had five heads and then her nose scrunched up,
she pulled her hand down away from her face and looked ath im
closer. Who the bloody hell was he? And why the odd reaction
to her being in Dagonet's bed? She had heard about these
Christians who think that people should be married before they
have sex but surely that was a small group of them... ? Surely
that was a tiny minority... or did he think that she was going
to have sex here in the infirmary?

The thought made Saoirse grin - and it was a wicked grin. A
woman who looked so broken and how had such hurt feelings
should never have been able to look so smouldering.

Lucius
 
"Lucius Cassius Aquila. Lucius. Solder under Captain
Barbattus' command. I met Derfel in the chapel and he
told me what happened. So, here we are. Take the time
you need. You want me to get anything for you?"


When he spoke his whole name, Saoirse's smouldering look
became blank. She cocked her head to the side and gave him a
look that asked 'are you for real?'. It was only after a
moment's pause, and some worthwhile reflection on his part,
that he came back with a more simple name.

"Lucius." she repeated and nodded her head, his name committed
to memory. The male still looked rather ... piqued and Saoirse
wondered if it was about that bed comment. Mention of Derfel
made Saoirse frown, pursing her lips. Derfel was, no doubt,
with Dagonet now. Tending to him at his most critical of times
whilst she could do nothing but sit on the ground in a
store-room feeling miserable, broken and useless. She felt all
wrong.

The red head turned to look up at the ceiling sightlessly
again, her eyelids flickering when Lucius offered to get her
'anything'.

She was not used to this kind of treatment. People didn't
treat women like her this way - not here in Britain. This was
more what the people back in Ireland did to her - tending to
her every whim, making it so that she felt so excluded from
real life that it was unbearable. She glanced sideways at
Lucius and stared at him with a dull cast to her eyes.

It was tempting to ask him to get her a spare room at the back
of the infirmary so that she cuold have her way with Dagonet
in private instead of in front of all and sundry, jokingly of
course, but she just didn't feel it in her heart to joke right
now. Instead she sniffed and shook her head -

"Nah. Not unless yer good a' bringin' people back from the
dead...?" she said, her tone genuinely hopeful before her
shoulders slumped and she turned to look back at teh ceiling.
A silent tear trickled down her cheek, probably the most
pitiful of all the tears she had shed because the rest of her
looked as if it might have stopped this useless sobbing when
in fact she was still broken inside, evidence of how deep the
hurt was.

"Have ye family, Lucius?" Saoirse asked in a tone that was
husky from upset, her bottom lip trembling a little and her
voice shakign on the word 'family'. And as she spoke she was
rising to her feet, her hands reaching out behind her to
steady her shaking body.







Eala

Quiet, incoherent moans could be faintly heard from inside
Eala's cell only moments before. She was telling herself that
she wasn't tired. She was convincing herself that she didn't
need nor want to sleep. She was staying awake ready for
whenever Ash was going to come get her. She had it planned on
how she would use the knife that was strapped to her leg and
also wondered if anyone would think she might have popped the
head off the doll and hidden another knife in it's body... ?

Sleep crept up on her unawares.

Her little body curled into a protective ball around the
knife... doll. She felt her eyelids getting heavy and blamed
the gritty feeling on the dirt in the cell, unused to confined
spaces like this was she. So she let her eyes stay shut,
convincing herself that it was just so that they could rest
from the dust, Eala was soon fast asleep in the corner of the
back of the cell, her breathing even, steady and her grubby,
bruised body looking incredibly tiny.

Something woke her - she wasn't sure what. But her instincts
were sharp. Footsteps, a creaking door. The little woad
remained very still, keeping her eyes shut, depending on all
other senses to warn her if someone was coming closer to her.
But the footsteps stopped a good distance away. There was an
odd sense of comfort and protection in that brief moment after
the shadow fell over her body. Despite it, Eala was afraid to
open her eye. Only when the footfalls were in retreat did she
dare lift her head.

Titrus...

Eala's nose scrunched up. He may have given her a doll and
taken her shackles off and taken the time to talk to her so
that she would understand but he was still the enemy. The
little blonde pursed her lips and plopped her head back down,
curling onto her other side so that her back was to the
soldier and she sulked with bleary, blood-shot eyes staring at
the dark wall in front of her, holding the knife-stuck doll
tight to her chest without thinking about it.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Unicorn
Date: Sat May 31, 2008 3:11 pm
Dagonet


Jols
 
"Hey Dagonet. How are you feeling? Doing ok?"


Dagonet swallowed hard... Everybody asked the same hard
question.. The same question he had no answer for. How was he
doing? How was he feeling? There was no words to describe the
state he found himself in. He looked away from Jols and closed
his eyes briefly.

"I'm fine..." he said and looked back at his friend, wondering
what else was the man going to say.

Jols
 
"Lancelot wanted me to tell you that he'd see you
shortly as I almost ran into him from the stables on my
way over here."


Dagonet frowned slightly at the information. Lancelot
announcing his arrival... what was he up to? Was he up to
anything? There was a smirk upon Dags face as he thought about
it and heard about runing into Lancelot.

"I'll be ready for him then..." he said and his happy face
went down. "And how is Arthur?"
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Starbelle
Date: Sat May 31, 2008 4:40 pm
Jols


Dagonet
 
"I'll be ready for him then..." "And how is Arthur?"


"I'm not exactly sure just how Arthur is." Jols commented
truthfully as he watched the smirk appear then disappear just
as quickly on Dagonet's face.

"I've been busy with other tasks after we parted company.
"I was thinking about asking Lancelot himself how he was, but
he left too quickly for me to ask about him, myself, otherwise
I would have." Jols replied to the question.

"Have you been sleeping ok?" The squire asked a concerned tone
in his voice.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: golden_trillium
Date: Sat May 31, 2008 5:54 pm
Tristan


It was still bloody raining outside.

Well, that wasn't news to Tristan, really. He had known that,
all during the time that he and Catherine spent in his room
together, his subconscious attuned to nature even when it was
on the other side of a stone wall and the rest of his mind was
otherwise occupied. He had known it when he had popped
Catherine's hood up over her head by way of seeing her out the
door. But to walk out into it was to endure a whole nother
level of disappointment that it had to bloody rain all the
fucking time here. And always this damp, neverending drizzle,
too...not like the powerful, crackling thunderstorms of
Sarmatia that were clearly visible miles and hours off, burst
with the fury of the Gods, and then were over in less than an
hour. Here it was nothing but rain rain rain that just didn't
stop.

He bent his head against it as he made his way to the stables
in response to the summons- the memory of the way in which the
summons had reached him made him roll his eyes to himself in a
mixture of faint amusement and exasperation that it had to
happen with such timing. If not for that, he could be taking
Catherine again right now, perhaps on her hands and knees this
time...he shook his head and tried to set that small fantasy
aside for now. Some other time. If the damn Woads didn't get
him first.

As he came out into the main courtyard from a narrower street,
his hair flopped over his face and his hands tucked under his
cloak, he spotted Captain Barbattus ahead of him, also heading
towards the stables- and with him, and going along apparently
more or less voluntarily, the skinny Woad prisoner Neeria. The
one who would supposedly lead them to Merlin. This must be
what this was all about then- and the Optio leading the group?
Scipio wasn't in evidence anywhere yet, but the idea of him
leading an expedition to Merlin gave Tristan pause. The Woads
were tricky...dealing with them took experience, which Arthur
had, and Scipio, as far as the scout knew, didn't. Was Arthur
really so foolish as to think that Scipio would do as well on
this venture as he himself would? Or was he so badly wounded
he couldn't go at all? Tristan tried to suppress a creeping
feeling of doom as he caught up with Barbattus just outside
the stable doors.

"You with Scipio too, then?" he aske the Captain gruffly as he
reached his side, though he was pretty sure of the answer-
this expedition to Merlin, lead- or perhaps not- by Neeria had
been in the works for more than a day. The scout's eyes slid
over to Neeria, now clothed and shoed for a journey in good,
weather-proof clothing, met her gaze briefly, and then dropped
away hurriedly. The memory of last night- of his
sentimentality regarding her, of her desperate gratitude to
him for a mere dusty horse blanket, her shrieking of his name-
made embarrassment bubble to the surface again. He didn't want
to look at her- didn't want her to see him at all. He couldn't
make himself hold her gaze.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Lancelot
Date: Sat May 31, 2008 6:54 pm

Arthur


The commander remained standing erect, his position that of an
iron statue - he could have been one of the metal people he'd
seen in Rome as a child. Good thing, too - his side was
flaring pain. Though he kept his hand on his stitches and his
face impassive, the spikes of heat that radiated from the
injury required him to be in constant control over his
expression and body language. He would show nothing to the
Optio but strength and resolve.

Amadeus
 
"Of course, Commander. You will not be disappointed. I
will do all in my power to ensure an end to this ruckus
with the Woads. I will go now and prepare and trust in
your judgement to punish your Knight in what way you see
best, which, I have no doubt, is the way Rome would
think best, and indeed, the way Holy God himself would
think best."


"I thank you for trusting me with my own men," Arthur
answered, the sarcastic tone in his voice almost hidden, but
his exhaustion made it hard for him to be completely aloof. He
noted the raised eyebrow and slight smile on Scipio's
face...and could not for the life of him decide whether or not
it was meant as a gesture of trust and friendship - or if the
other man was showing his "true colors" as Lancelot might have
said.

"Godspeed, Optio," Arthur said, meaning it. No matter Amadeus'
intentions...he was Arthur's Optio, and Arthur would trust a
man sent to him by Rome. Amadeus seemed to believe in the
power and importance of God and the Empire - two things that
were important in Arthur's own life. And yet...he couldn't put
out of his head Lancelot's vehement reaction to Scipio.

He is not to be trusted. I can feel it...here.

Arthur crossed to the door that Scipio pointed at, and, using
his free hand, he opened the latch and stood to the side so
the other man could head out. "Be careful - and do your best
to see that this atrocity does not occur again. I trust your
judgment on Merlin, Optio. And I will see him myself. Please -
make that plain."

Arthur nodded in respect as the hawk-nosed man passed out of
his quarters, and then shut the door.

He allowed his broad frame to collapse against the back of the
door - he rubbed his hands over his face, finally removing the
one from his side. His stitches throbbed insistantly, but
after checking under his tunic for any fresh blood, he was
satisfied that they held. God damn Lancelot and his
impetuousness! And now Arthur had to come up with some way to
punish Lancelot for his insubbordination - it was right and
deserved - but how would his lieutenant act? How would he take
it - and could Arthur in good conscience hurt him? Could he
watch Lancelot be put in the stocks or flogged and not do
anything about it? The other man had only been acting on the
bond between himself and Arthur...God. Arthur's head ached too
much to overly examine this new duty just now.

He made his way back toward his bed - was anyone else
expected? No...Arthur released a tremulous laugh and tottered
to his mattress, his bare feet padding softly on the chilly
floor. Sinking slowly to the bed, he relaxed for the first
time since he'd woken - and winced as every pain in his body
seemed to come to life. His head swam briefly as he remembered
what he'd just discussed with Scipio - God hope the Optio
would do his best and take care of Merlin. Arthur hated that
he was too injured to see to the matter himself - but he
didn't doubt that Neeve - or Lancelot - would hold to their
sworn duty and literally tie him to the bed. And that thought
made him think of Darya, and how he'd practically dismissed
her like a servant from his quarters. He shook his head and
bit his lip in guilt. He hoped his lover would understand, and
would see to her own injuries and to her rest. They would have
time to catch up later. Right now, as much as he was loathe to
admit it, the most important thing was to nip this Woad
insurgance in the bud. As quickly as possible, before any
other lives were lost unnecessarily.

Arthur slid on his buttocks until he was leaning against the
back of the bed, his legs folded up against him as comfortably
as he could get them. He returned his hand to his side, and
allowed his eyes to close for just a moment. Just a moment's
rest. I shall send for a page in a moment to dictate my
report...in just a moment.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: linnet
Date: Sat May 31, 2008 8:16 pm

Gawain & Mother Lavinia


Galahad
 
"Who am I, her mother? I don't know where she is - she
was there when I feel asleep earlier and gone when I
woke up. I haven't seen her since. She's a big girl now
ya know - she can well look after herself."


Well, Gawain thought, Lavinia had hit the bulls-eye, saving
him the tricky task of trying to decipher what was bothering
Galahad. Something had happened with Alina. They had looked
like perfectly happy lovers yesterday when she greeted the
younger knight. Now Gawain could hear the defensiveness in
Galahad’s answer, and he could see the anger rising in his
friends face. He hoped the problem was only a minor argument,
or even just the fact that Alina wasn’t around when her lover
woke up. Regardless, Gawain realized that now he would have to
tell Galahad about Brianna, and he would have to bring it up
himself. Maybe his own tale of womanly woe would make his
friend feel better, in a ‘things could be worse’ sort of way.
Or maybe listening to his trouble would get Galahad to open up
and stop trying so hard to cover his emotions.

Satisfied that Dag was out of serious physical danger, the
blond knight just wanted to get Galahad away from the
infirmary. He turned as if to leave, but waited for Galahad to
do the same. Lavinia was frowning at the younger man,
obviously surprised by his petulant reaction. Gawain caught
sight just then of Jols as the squire walked nonchalantly past
the three of them and headed toward the far end of the ward.
Gawain looked back at the nun, puzzled. “Why is it alright for
Jols to go wherever he wants, while Galahad and I get tossed
out?” he asked. He wasn’t being sarcastic. He really wanted to
know.

Lavinia had her attention trained on Galahad, and was
irritated by the long-haired knight’s interruption. Frankly
she hadn’t even seen Jols enter her realm, but she wasn’t
about to admit that. “I’ll deal with Jols as soon as I’m done
with you two,” she replied. “And besides, he is quieter, far
better groomed, and less prone to drunkenness than you,” the
old woman added, looking pointedly at Gawain. He raised his
eyebrows and gave her a sheepish smile, convinced that she
especially disliked him for some reason.

Turning back to Galahad, Lavinia looked at him more closely
than before. She was aware that he had been wounded too, and
had thought that Alina was tending to him, albeit in private.
“So did Alina take care of your wound, or do you need someone
here to check it for you and patch you up?” she asked, her
voice no longer curt and demanding. As exasperating as the
Sarmatian knights could be, the nun knew how much damage their
bodies sustained, and how precarious their lives were. She
might insult their manners and their lifestyles, but she would
always make sure they received the best medical attention
available.

Gawain’s gaze flashed anxiously to Galahad. He too had assumed
that Alina had taken care of the stab wound.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: LadyCastus
Date: Sat May 31, 2008 10:17 pm
Malcus Barbattus and Neeria


Malcus led the woad prisoner through the sloppy mess of the
roadway en route to the stables. The captain cursed under his
breath, something about the “bloody fucking rain”. Neeria
wasn’t really listening to him but she stayed to his side,
keeping pace with him as they made their way. Her mind was a
steel trap, running possible scenarios about what she would do
on this upcoming mission. Taking the Romans to Merlin was not
a possibility; she would never lead them to the village. In
fact she would do just the exact opposite. She would lead the
party far in the opposite direction of the village. It would
mean her death for sure, but at least Merlin and her people
would not be betrayed. That was a deal she was willing make
with her gods. Where was Ash? Was there a rescue party? How
many had come with him? Would they launch another attack?
There were so many questions! Neeria didn’t know if the
rescuers would attempt to save her here, behind the wall, or
wait until they were on the road. Either way, she would go
along and just see what would happen.

Neeria’s thoughts were interrupted quite suddenly when Malcus
stopped at the stables. Out of nowhere, the scout, Tristan
appeared. Arthur had kept his word. The scout would ride with
them. Neeria blinked and looked up at Tristan who towered over
her. His braids were plastered to head and he was soaking wet.
His face was dark and gruff, his posture indicating his clear
agitation. Neeria looked directly into his golden eyes.
Tristan looked at her momentarily but looked away quickly,
turning his attention to the Roman.

Tristan
 
"You with Scipio too, then?"


“Oy, mate,” Malcus said to the Sarmatian scout. “I see you got
the message to meet us here,”

The captain turned up his lips when Tristan looked at him
quizzically.

“In case you’re wondering why you’ve been asked to join this
little party, I’ll go ahead and fill you in. Arthur was
injured pretty badly. No worries though, he’ll be okay but
he’s in no condition to ride. So, he’s ordered that rat
bastard Amadeus to ride in his place. And since he doesn’t
trust the little fucker any farther than he can throw him, he
is sending me to keep an eye on him.”

Malcus placed his hand on the stable door and pulled it open.
He ushered Neeria inside and Tristan followed.

“Of course, for my commander and for my friend, I accepted my
orders gladly. Besides, how could I turn down an opportunity
to size up the smarmy optio?” Malcus rolled his eyes. The trio
stood just inside the stable door, shaking off the rain, as
the captain continued.

“So why are you involved? You’re involved because this lovely
maiden here requested your presence. She told Arthur that she
wouldn’t ride without you.” Malcus stared at Neeria again with
dark eyes.

“So our commander indulged the lady,” Malcus clicked his heels
and bowed to Neeria.

Neeria tensed at the Roman’s mockery. She wanted to curse him,
but she did not. She felt the heat from both men staring at
her when she turned her gaze back to Tristan.

“Tris-tan, what he says is true,” she said softly. “You are
the only one I trust.”













Titrus

Titrus turned around when he heard the girl move. Thinking
he’d awakened her, the lieutenant was inexplicably
disappointed to see that the child had just simply rolled over
onto her other side. Titrus gathered his cloak about himself
and walked out of the cell, quietly locking the door behind
him.

Titrus knew that he should debrief the squad commanders but
his stomach reminded him that it was time for lunch. The
rotations wouldn’t change until later in the afternoon, so
actually it was a good time to head over to the tavern to grab
something to eat. Afterward, he would send for Quintus and the
others. Satisfied with his decision, the lieutenant headed in
the direction of food.

When Titrus walked into the tavern, he sat down at a quiet
table in the back. After a few moments, a barmaid approached
him.

“Is there soup today, love?” he asked. The barmaid ran down
the afternoon’s choices and Titrus put in his bidding. As the
woman walked away, Titrus watched her, his eyes focused on her
round bottom as she switched away from him. It had been a long
time since he’d been with a woman and his body was beginning
to react to his need. Since his wife’s death Titrus hadn’t
laid with anyone else, but his desire was growing. He often
pleasured himself, in the privacy of his bedroom, hidden off
from his four daughters. He never made a sound when exploded
into a piece of fabric, which he always burned later. Titrus
didn’t want one of his daughters to find it by accident.
Bringing himself to climax was not the same as being inside
the warmth of a woman’s body. He missed the feeling of long
legs wrapped around his waist has he burrowed himself in the
juices of a giving female. Just thinking about it caused
Titrus to suddenly get a hard on. Embarrassed, the lieutenant
discreetly adjusted himself beneath the table, his cock
straining against the confines of his uniform. Titrus was not
as forward with the ladies as his captain and he felt awkward
soliciting a wench for sex. But if he didn’t relieve himself
between the milky thighs of a whore soon, he feared suffering
from blue balls for the rest of his life.

The barmaid returned with his soup and bread, leaning over the
table, offering Titrus a full view of her cleavage. He could
see the wench’s nipples straining against the thin material of
her dress and he felt his loin tighten even more. He imagined
himself pounding into her.

“Thank you,” he said, “it looks good.”

The barmaid smiled at him and Titrus tried not to stare at her
hard nipples. He noticed her full lips as she licked them
seductively.

“If there’s anything else you want...just let me know,” she
said and walked away, slowly and deliberately. Titrus clenched
his hands as he watched with deep want. Then grabbed his spoon
and scooped up a big serving. After he blew on it he put it in
his mouth and willed his hard on to go away.
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