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| May 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 18 2010, 02:23 AM (3,635 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | Mar 19 2010, 09:34 PM Post #91 |
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Author: Unicorn Date: Wed May 07, 2008 2:47 pm Evana She heard the calling and rushed towards the room.
"I am a healer." she annoanced as she approached the men... She had been seeing him before, but never ever really had the chance to speak with him. "What is the matter?" she asked peering inside seeing a man with possibly hand injury. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 19 2010, 09:36 PM Post #92 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Wed May 07, 2008 3:06 pm Drake Drake felt poised. Hell, he looked poised. His body was stiff, the burning scent of male energy in the air was undeniable. These men were competing, and when men competed, any bystanders were likely to be hurt. And one of the bystanders was Linnette. Drake was aware that she looked up at him now and then, almost like she was making sure he was still there or seeking his approval, but he was looking at the gathered men in a somewhat suspicious fashion.
The Spaniard nodded his head in greeting to Arthur. He respected Arthur - he trusted him, so he did not need to keep an eye on him as much as the others. Especially the Optio. He looked at Linnette in all the wrong ways, ways that Drake did not like. Not one bit. He was familiar. And as the man went to leave he was even more familiar, touching Linnette's arm. A very low rumble echoed in Drake's chest but stopped early on because the man did not remain by Linnette's side. He swallowed hard, dropping his chin a fraction when he realised what he had just done. What was he thinking? Clearing his throat, Drake took a step back from the door, nodding his head to Linnette. He didn't tell her he would wait - he assumed she knew he would. And as if he had any authority in the matter, he lifted his bottle-green eyes to Arthur's emerald ones and gave a slight nod of his head, indicating that it was ok to take her inside now. Galahad Galahad didn't like the rain. It was bloody stupid anyways - the rain. It just made everything mucky, dirty, slippery, dangerous - it made things cold, it made people cold and when people got cold they got sick and when people got sick they got dead. So why did the gods think it wise to send rain? The Sarmatian was standing under the eaves of the stables having ambled about for a while looking for Gawain. He wanted to just check on his friend - make sure his arm was doing ok. He could do with getting his stomach looked at but the thoughts of waking Alina and having her in that slightly nutty state was a bit ... well, it was scary. The youngest knight spotted a familiar bulk splashing through the rain near the barn. He liftd his hand but Bors had his head lowered, intent on getting out of the rain. Galahad tsked, looked up at the clouds and sighed. "Here goes.." he murmured, ducking his head and dashing forward towards Bors. "Bors! Bors -- " the Knight called out, breathless and wincing in slight pain as he ducked into the barn, looking about for the other Knight. "Hey - didn't you hear me?" Galahad said in a slightly whiney voice before huffing a breath and sliding his hand back into his black curls. "Have you seen Gawain?" he asked, grimacing as he looked down at how wet he had gotten on that little trot across the courtyard alone. Would the rain in this damnable place ever stop?! |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 19 2010, 09:38 PM Post #93 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Wed May 07, 2008 3:26 pm Brendyn Brendyn really could not see the expression on the face of the nun whom he knew as the same one who he had trifled with earlier. She had just looked up, and then turned an walked back to wherever she had come from. once there were was a traveler on the road who was going to another town, when he was jumped by a robber, who beat him and left him for dead at the side of the road. And hour or so later, another man passed, but kept on his way not wanting to offer help.... Oh, he knew that story well, and it had been one of his favorites. Titrus made no move to bring the nun back, which did not make Brendyn's situation any better....
'Why should...I be so foolish enough...to try?' Brendyn whispered back. He could hear Antonius's voice in his head Anything short of death can not keep you from your duties...short of death...of death... He struggled to move into a more comfortable position, his arm still hanging over the side of the bench. ...two more men came along the road, but did not stop to offer help leaving the man still on the side of the road... Brendyn winced as it brushed against the side of the bench. Deep inside he prayed for wisdom and the courage. He wanted to be the brave soldier that had first met Malcus and Titrus...what had happened to him? Had he become so arrogant and foolish? What Titrus told him next sunk into Brendyn's head...something that he had forgotten...
Oh, he was listening to every word, and not one was missed. Why would he expect Titrus to lie for him again? Anymore and it'd mean the man's honor. No, he would not ask, nor would he think about it. Brendyn felt his arm like it was burning. The young soldier said nothing, but instead moved a bit to get more comfortable. He had not wanted to look like a whimp, but he was feeling damned ill right now, and wished to hell a healer would get over and treat him before the thing got worse. Brendyn wondered what it was the Malcus saw in him if he was a worthless Grunt? I...see...now that the training I got...under Antonius...he taught me..that hate was a good thing...Something happened to me while I was holding the chains...that same hate...It has done nothing but ruin me. His heart was set on being retrained, not in his fighting skills, but in his reactions to the enemy. Because of Antonius, he had hated the woads so much that it had come out in the conversation with the nun....the nun reminded him of several "men of the cloth' who prayed and went to services, but did not feel the need for forgiveness. Brendyn closed his eyes and swallowed hard. Gods he felt warm...'I never meant for it to get so far out of hand....but all I could hear was Antonius telling me that the enemy had not right to live and it made them easier to kill...' He felt a sudden urge to sit up, and tried to look a tad stronger. No soldier should look weak in front of his suporior...
It sounded a lot like Antonius when Titrus spoke. Well, Brendyn was not dying, and his feet still worked. Damn it all! He was a soldier, and trained to be the best of the best, so why was he whimping about in the infirmary becasue of a damned infection? He was greatful that Titrus had left to check on the guarded room, because he just wanted to think on what had transpired, and how he could right the wrong he had done. The soldier closed his eyes, but then heard a sweet voice announce itself, and he thanked God for the answered prayer....
Brendyn opened his deep blue eyes to look into those of the concerned face before him. He indicated his arm that hung over the side of the bench, and whispered, 'My arm...I think it is infected...' He looked at her as though pleading for her help. 'Think the sword I got into a tangle with yesterday...might have been rusted...' He struggled to sit up. 'Am suppose to work out a punishment....so...I need to get this taken care of as soon as you can...' Hours later, another man appeared on the road....he stopped his donkey and took mercy and compassion on the injured man. The traveler tended to the injured man's wounds with oils and bound his wounds in cloth, loaded him on the back of his donkey, and took him to the nearest inn where the man could be tended to.... |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 19 2010, 09:40 PM Post #94 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Wed May 07, 2008 4:26 pm Malcus Barbattus Malcus pursed his lips, proud of himself for taking the focus off of Lancelot and redirecting everyone's attention to something else just as dramatic and troublesome as the optio. Mentioning the woad prisoner seemed to ruffle everyone's feathers even further, including his own. She was a inconvenient truth to everyone and nobody appeared to want to deal with her at all. Let's just kill the bitch and be done with her! Barbattus thought. He was still watching Arthur closely, ready to lend assistance if needed.
Malcus, despite his disbelief of Arthur's decision, nodded his head in agreement with the commander's order. "Oy, sir," he said, looking at Arthur, speaking with his eyes. Why, Artorius?, "it will be done." Before Barbattus could say anything more, Arthur looked toward the doorway at the young woman who had waited in the hallway with the captain. Stepping around Scipio, Arthur greeted her then addressed the men in the room.
Malcus knew Arthur needed a moment with the widow but now? They were right in the middle of a very important discussion. There were just too many people around and Barbattus wanted a minute alone with Arthur to find out what was really going on. Why on earth had Arthur summoned him only to turn around and tell him wait outside in the first place? Malcus was slightly annoyed with being treated like a stable boy, but his face portrayed nothing he felt inside.
"Yes, Arthur, of course," Malcus said, following Amadeus, who'd already turned to slither out of the door. The captain purposefully put himself between Scipio and Lancelot. "Come, Lancelot, let's go. Now. Let's go." Barbattus could almost feel the heat of fury eminating from the First Knight. "Drake old man, let's wait outside." Barbattus said to the big man. Malcus let Drake go in front of him so that Amadeus was in front, Drake, followed by Malcus and then Lancelot. When they had all filed out in front of him, Barbattus stepped aside and let Lancelot go before him. Once everyone was out, Malcus glanced at Arthur and said, "When you're ready commander, we will be here to resume our discussion." Then he pulled the door closed behind him. Amadeus was leaning with his back against the wall, his arms folded. Malcus glanced at him, locking eyes with him but not saying a word. Then he, too, leaned against the wall between Lancelot and Drake leaving Amadeus alone on his side of the hallway. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 19 2010, 09:41 PM Post #95 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Wed May 07, 2008 5:45 pm Vanora The children had arrived at the tavern for their breakfast, and seeing them seemed to brighten an already dismal morning. First Adian fleeing at the news of Thorn, then Tatiana fleeing in tears due to Mirtha's tactfulness. Just hearing #'s 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, and 8 all call for their breakfast was almost like a ray of sunshine...except that # 4 was pulling Gilly's hair. Vanora moved toward them but was still within earshot of Mirtha. The man just did not seem himself...preoccupied perhaps, or just hungover? Her answer came when he replied her jest...
'Who is?' Vanora mumbled under her breath as she set #3 on the bench between #5 and 6. She excused herself and went to get the children their porridge which a wench helped carry out of the kitchen. Making sure they all had what they needed, she went back to Mirtha. She had known him for a while, but only when he came into the tavern for a drink, or two...or three. 'Something bothering you, Mirtha?' She set the half mug of heather ale in front of his breakfast.
Well, at least she had gotten him to smile a bit. A shrill scream came from the other table, and saw #6 sitting on the ground on her butt while #4 was laughing. Vanora wiped the counter in front of her, "No problem, Mirtha...now eat..please.'' Looking back over at the table with the fighting kids, she looked back at the grumpy man. "Sorry, I have a fight to break up..." She left the counter and headed over to where there was a nice food fight between the little bastards, and she was saying admonishments here and there trying to get them to stop. Vanora took a slight glance back at Mirtha and wondered what it was that was occupying his thoughts... |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 19 2010, 09:43 PM Post #96 |
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Author: Lancelot Date: Wed May 07, 2008 6:40 pm Lancelot Lancelot met Arthur's eyes as the commander stepped around the knot of too hyped up men and took Linnette by the hand, guiding her into the nest of riled up vipers, as it were. Well, he and Scipio might qualify for that.
Lancelot was being summarily dismissed along with the others. The first knight understood why Arthur wanted to speak with Gedeon's widow alone, but that didn't make him feel any better.
"Yes, mother," Lancelot groused under his breath, but followed the herd of puffed up soldiers outside. Barbattus shut the door as they exited, Lancelot catching one last look at Arthur. The other man was still holding his side, but he was remarkably composed for one as injured as Arthur was. If the Roman had pulled his fresh stitches already because he'd been forced to stop Lancelot from attacking the bastard Optio.... Said Optio was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, and Lancelot watched him with a hooded gaze as he stood - relaxed, casual on the outside, still seething on the inside - next to Drake and Barbattus. Refusing to slump - despite his exhaustion - Lancelot stood ramrod straight as he regarded Scipio. It seemed his original assessment had been correct; this man was not to be trusted. And judging from the looks he'd been throwing Lancelot's way - behind Arthur's back - he had an agenda of some sort. Lancelot didn't know what it was exactly, but he was determined to find out. "What really happened, Scipio?" he asked the other man, his voice calm. His eyes, however, belied his tone and the dark irises reflected the torches that lit the hallway. The flame sparkled in the Sarmatian's brown orbs; the red and orange flickering dangerously in the gem-like depths. His long lashes hid most of his emotion, but his mouth pinched into a thin line, despite his determination to not kill this man outright. "Why did the Woads attack? How did they know Arthur would be gone?" Lancelot wasn't certain that Merlin had known of their assignment to the east, but he figured his comment might piss the Optio off just a tad. Merlin respected Arthur's ability to manage war; he might not share it with his blue warriors, but it wasn't too far fetched to think the Magician might wait until the Roman was gone from Badon before launching an attack. Lancelot rested his hand on the butt of his dagger, sorry that his double blades were still in Arthur's quarters with Excalibur. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 19 2010, 09:44 PM Post #97 |
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Author: linnet Date: Wed May 07, 2008 7:40 pm Gawain Gawain kept his eyes on her while he described one incident in the chaotic events of the battle for Segedunum. He watched for signs that she was becoming bored or distracted. And he watched her because she was lovely. But it was the spark of interest and attention that he saw in her expression which he found most appealing. She held her gaze steadily on him as well. It didn’t make him uncomfortable. Rather he felt relaxed, more as if he was talking to an old friend instead of someone he had never spoken to before. When he asked her if she knew of a nice warm place, her reaction set off reminders of what she was – a prostitute out looking for customers.
Her suggestive speech and beckoning manner were clear. Gawain let out his breath in a half laugh, raised his eyebrows and shook his head to let her know he understood her meaning, but it wasn’t the meaning he had intended. He felt almost sad and almost foolish, but mainly disappointed. He’d thought there was a connection forming between them, when in fact she was so good at whoring that she had read him like a book, and was trying to get his business by being just what he needed. Of course she wasn’t here for his miserable company, but for his money. He still watched her, wanting to hold on to that glimpse of brightness behind her perfect shell, but his body slumped back in his chair. He idly turned his tea mug around on the table separating them.
She looked and sounded so sincere. But Gawain didn’t answer right away. He studied her carefully. The curiosity that brought her face to life had reappeared. He decided that if snaring him into sex for pay was her only interest, she’d have given up and left by now. “We knights talk endlessly about going home,” he finally said. “I’d always thought that returning to Sarmatia was the most important thing in the world. But it’s not. What matters most is freedom. I don’t know any more where I’ll go if I survive five more years. But damn it, I’ll be free to go wherever I want. No one will own me any longer, and no one will be able to stop me. That's something worth living for." He was leaning forward again, his hands on the table, his eyes full of the emotion behind his words. He stopped and sighed, smiling slightly. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know your name, and I’m subjecting you to battle stories and emotional tirades. So tell me your name, and tell me about something you’re interested in. I really can just shut up and listen, believe it or not. Do you want anything else to eat or drink?” He looked at her hopefully. He wanted her to stay a little longer. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 19 2010, 09:45 PM Post #98 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Wed May 07, 2008 8:39 pm Ione What a morning it had been, and Ione was beginning to feel a bit tired. since parting with Javier at her homestead and coming back to the fort...the attack on the fort...the time she spent with Mirtha...she had had little sleep. Her shop was important to her, and things had to be fixed and refolded and re wound again. The last two servants who had offered to fix her work table and bench had gone now, and Ione saw them off and closed the door behind her. She stood with her back to it and looked about, before moving toward the small room off the shop area. Thoughts of her conversation with Arthur drifted into her mind ....she had said "Arthur, I always repay kindness with kindness, and you have shown me more kindness than I sometimes deserve. You allowed me to stay here at the fort after I awoke from a coma, and then you saved me from dying in the dungeons. Anyone else would have left me to die...sometimes servants are forgotten like that, and it is an honour when a Roman or any other person shows us respect." She recalled the warmth of the moment: a simple conversation between two friends...and his response had made her feel better about herself than she had ever felt... “Ione, you are not a ‘servant’..." Recalling that the Commander had gone to war, Ione now wondered if he was alright...if all of the knights were okay. She could not imagine losing any of them in her life.... She slightly closed the door to the room and undid the belt of her dress so that she could move the bodice part of her dress down to her waist. Ione needed to relax then perhaps lie down for about an hour before going to eat...if anything sounded good that is. Walking over to the far side of the room, the weaver placed some fragrant herbs in the water and left them steep sending a relaxing aroma about the room. Her favorite mix was heather, thyme, lavender, and a bit of rose. Ione dipped the soft cloth into the water and began to wash the sweat from her skin. The water was both refreshing and it cooled her skin from the work on the shop... |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 19 2010, 09:46 PM Post #99 |
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Author: Ranchera Date: Wed May 07, 2008 10:12 pm Connell
Connell listened, unable to make sense of this girl. Perhaps she really and truly cared, although how she could switch her emotions on and off so quickly was baffling. He wasn't tremendously experienced with women and so he looked to Guinevere, who seemed less prone to dramatics.
Connell nodded. "How long do you think we'll have to wait? Once we get there? How will we remain unseen?" |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 19 2010, 09:47 PM Post #100 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Thu May 08, 2008 8:06 am Arthur The Commander waited with what appeared to be patience as his three officers filed out of his quarters. His head felt light again most likely on account of not having yet to break his fast this morning….and still being in dire need of rest and recovery. Arthur briefly met Malcus’ concerned gaze and returned what he hoped was a flicker of reassurance in his deceptively placid green eyes. And then the door clicked shut and Arthur was for the most part alone….the tension in his shoulders dissipating as he turned kind eyes to his fragile guest. He attempted a gentle smile and with Linnette’s tiny hand still in his; Arthur led Gedeon’s wife a few steps towards the end of the long table near the fireplace. “Thank you for coming this morning,” Arthur said while turning to casually prop himself on the edge of the sturdy table; albeit uncharacteristically stiff in his movements. The Commander’s shoulders slightly slumped as he sat. And the position afforded Arthur the opportunity to meet Linnette’s gaze more evenly and he actually appreciated having a moment where he did not need to work quite so hard at appearing ‘commanding’. The hot-headed confrontations moments ago had taken their toll on Arthur’s already weakened condition. He released a breath that might easily be construed as a sigh of relief for the momentary absence of the other men. “Dagonet informs me that he is to be a grandfather again,” Arthur began with what he considered to be a more pleasant subject. He finally slid his right hand from where it had been pressed firmly over his stitches – God help Lancelot if any are broken – and took up both of Linnette’s hands in his. “May I offer my congratulations on your pregnancy,” Arthur continued with a genuine smile of affection and in an attempt to find some level of comfort with Linnette before speaking of the true purpose for calling her here. And naturally guilt was beginning to rear its ugly head within Arthur’s conscious. He was to blame for making yet another innocent woman a widow and soon a fatherless child to be born into this world. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 19 2010, 09:49 PM Post #101 |
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Author: Darya Date: Thu May 08, 2008 9:56 am Darya
The dark Sarmatian nodded briefly. Yes, she would tell Arthur when the time was right. She would tell him about Merlin and Guinevere…and a lot more. Gods, there were certainly several things she needed to tell him. But that had to wait until her lover had dealt with everything else… And wait she could…
Now that was a loaded question…and as much as Darya felt like telling her old and trusted friend her little secret, she just could not. She had made Isolde swear to not tell anyone…simply because Arthur deserved and just had to be the first one to know. Sighing, the female Sarmatian turned around to face Tristan again. “Except for a minor scratch and a hurt pride for having been called a Roman whore…I guess I am…”, she replied and a corner of her mouth twitched slightly as she did so, “…and since al…most of you have finally returned to this place, I would like to think that things are improving.” Then she paused and stepped a bit closer towards Tristan. “But with the broken truce…that might stay a wish for a while longer…”, the dark-haired added with a roll of her eyes. “So…how many Saxons did you manage to show how a sword is wielded properly?”, Darya then asked and dared a wry grin. She knew that Tristan kept count on his killings…and she also knew that he was a formidable fighter. But they had never faced the Saxons before…so she was curious about just how he had dealt with the new enemy… |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 19 2010, 09:50 PM Post #102 |
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Author: Eledhwen Date: Thu May 08, 2008 11:39 am Bors Bors frowned as he heard voices in the gloom of the barn, and squinted ahead to see Tristan talking to some wench... Oh, no, not just some wench - Darya. The grizzled warrior raised one eyebrow to himself and stepped forward out of the shadow of the door, coughing loudly as he limped towards the pair.
- he heard as he approached, and grinned. That was one hell of a sure way to get Tristan talking, asking about blood and guts. In that the two men were similar, although Bors was far more brash about his conquests and killings. "Oh sorry," he said, not sorry at all. "Not interuptin' anyfin' am I?" He heaved his injured bulk up onto a cross beam and smiled first at Darya then at his fellow knight, settling in for the long haul. Anything to keep from having to see Vanora and having her moaning at him to get his leg seen to. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 19 2010, 09:50 PM Post #103 |
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Author: sabor ice Date: Thu May 08, 2008 2:50 pm Ash Ash had never been one known to be exceptionally patient. He had done considerably well thus far, all things considered. His side painfully ached, his stomach rumbled in hunger, dark circles invaded the spaces under his eyes, and to top it off, he was beginning to take on the appearance of a drenched rat. Even crouched under an awning, he was not perfectly sheltered from the rain, although the dark clouds looming overhead did provide him with some cover. Dark eyes lifted and narrowed toward the infirmary, where he had seen Eala be taken. What heinous act had been committed upon her to call for a healer's presence? And since when did the Romans care enough to house a prisoner of war, unless they had beneficial reason to keep one alive? Enough - he was tired of waiting. Ash swiftly scampered over to the infirmary. He ducked under a broken window, back plastered against the wall, and craned his neck enough to just peer inside. A quick scan (of what he could see) revealed no trace of Eala, nor Neeria for that matter. Of course they would not be in the main ward, though - he hadn't expected them to be. He stealthily shadowed every inch of the outside of the infirmary. He had paused at the back and hunkered down, flicking a tickling raindrop off the tip of his nose with his thumb as he warily surveyed his surroundings, trying to pick up any sign someone had seen him. Voices from inside the infirmary, half muted from the rain, reached the Woad's ear, and he turned to the small window behind him. There was a sour-puss by the door, Neeria was on the bed, and little Eala was defensively stalking about. Ash's lip curled back into a snarl, his entire body stiffly poised to spring into action, to whip around the infirmary and fight his way through it to reach his comrades should the soldier touch even a single hair on either one of their heads. Filthy Roman bastard. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 19 2010, 09:53 PM Post #104 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Thu May 08, 2008 5:30 pm Linnesse
Linnesse had no answer for that other than a small nod, and a turn of her head and shoulders that burrowed her closer into Derfel's chest for the remainder of the walk to the room. Her hood, which she had twitched up over her head, shielded her face relatively well from the rain, but the rest of her was feeling the chill of the wet and cold, particularly her feet, which hung out unprotected by anything else, shoes notwithstanding. She sighed with relief as Lucius- she presumed it was Lucius, though her eyes were closed at the time- pushed open the door to the room she shared with Derfel, which was still holding the warmth from its fire well, even though it had burned down a bit while they were out. Derfel crossed the small room in a couple of steps and bent to lay her carefully on the bed; Linnesse felt the shift of balance and let her body slide out of his arms and puddle on the bed, sinking tiredly into the mattress once again, just as she had last night. This time, though, she was actually more awake than she had been then, and she wrapped a hand around the back of Derfel's neck as she sank down, pulling him with her; she didn't want to lose the warmth, the contact. "You're such a sweet man," she whispered, her eyes blinking open lazily and her other hand coming up to cup his cheek. He was so handsome and loving- not to mention damp, and the tip of his nose looked rather red with the chill outside. She lifted her head to kiss it- but undershot the mark a little with her tiredness and landed on his lips instead. Which was no bad thing- she dropped one hand to the mattress to prop herself up and deepened the kiss, her other had still wound into his hair. Rather incongruously, considering she was so tired, she felt passion growing in her, too, a need to taste him, and smell him, and feel as much of him as she could. A need to welcome him properly-which, in her opinion, she had not done as yet. Linnette She returned Amadeus's sympathetic look as he passed with a tiny ghost of a smile, then raised her eyebrow just slightly at Lancelot's low, but unmistakeable impudent comment as he, too, left the room. She said nothing about it, of course- it wasn't her business, and it wouldn't be polite to draw Arthur's attention to the fact that she had witnessed this small display of near-insubordination by the First Knight. In any case, the other four men- including Drake, whom the dark-haired officer had inexplicably referred to as "old man"- had by now left the room, shutting the door behind them, and it was just her and the Commander, and the crackling of the fire now audible now that the numerous voices were no longer there to drown it out. It seemed, in fact, almost unnaturally quiet in the room.
He led her over to the table and propped himself against it, which put him down a little further, closer to eye level with Linnette, and as he had not indicated for her to take a seat, she stood there, crossing her arms before her in what was perhaps a protective gesture. Surely he meant to bring up Gedeon soon- and she was trying to be prepared for it, trying to be strong and stand up straight even though she felt like breaking down into ignominious tears. But tears should be saved for a little later- not here.
Linnette nodded sadly, allowing Arthur to take her hands, but only for a moment before pulling them back again. She appreciated the gesture, and indeed returned the Commander's smile with her own, smaller and sadder one, but it was much as it had been when Derfel tried to offer her familial comfort- it wasn't right. It wasn't family, and it wasn't the same. And having a child who now would have no father seemed hardly something to be congratulated on. "Of course, Commander, and I thank you- but I'm sure you understand that it no longer seems such a good thing now." She kept her voice composed around the words with an effort, forcefully swallowing the lump in her throat, willing it not to come up and cause weeping and sobbing. She sighed, then looked back up into Arthur's eyes and attempted a brave smile again. "I suppose none of us know God's will," she added, a bit sheepishly, though her voice broke on the end of that statement. Why would it be God's will that a good man like Gedeon, so recently married, so recently united with his own father, and so soon to become a father, should die? It didn't make any sense at all, her empty platitudes aside! Linnette looked away from Arthur quickly, her jaw tightening as she fought down a sudden surge of anger at the world almost strong enough to make her cry in itself. There was no way this could be anyone's will!! |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 19 2010, 09:55 PM Post #105 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Thu May 08, 2008 5:42 pm Mona Mona dabbed at her tears with the heel of her palm, not breaking eye contact with Connell until Guinevere spoke up.
"Yes, princess," Mona said, sniffling. That will be the last time you talk down your nose to me. "You are right." Mona took another bite of bread and drank more of the soup. She was trying to plan a way to get rid of Guinevere before they got to the wall but it didn't seem possible. Connell would surely run back to Merlin or maybe even try take Mona to the wall and hand her to the Romans. Connell moved comfortably between both sides of the wall so the Romans would listen to him. Damn. Then she would have to kill him also. And what about Ash? Oh, there would be too much to have to cover up with Merlin. She had to get rid of Neeria and Guinevere but she also had to make Merlin believe that she had nothing to do with it. Oh!! Maybe I can make it look like Ash killed them! Mona thought to herself with glee. That would solve her problem! She would find a way to make it look like Ash did it! Afterall, it was no secret that he and Guinevere did not like each other. Mona outwardly smiled as she bit off another piece of bread. Her plan was coming together. Connell, who was still staring at her peculiarly, spoke up.
Once again, Mona rolled her eyes at him and drank more of her soup, please with herself and her new plan. |
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