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| May 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 18 2010, 02:23 AM (3,634 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | Mar 19 2010, 09:56 PM Post #106 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Thu May 08, 2008 5:42 pm Tristan
Tristan ducked his head with a small, sheepish smirk, amused by her amusement at answering that question. He took a breath to answer, but before he could speak, Bors stumped into the riding arena and hauled himself up into place on the fence nearby, with a cheerful grin for both the scout and Darya. His leg was hurting him, though- Tristan could tell from the way he walked, if nothing else.
"Mmhmm." Tristan shook his head in the negative, then turned back to Darya, stretching out his arms to the sides with an audible pop of his back. That felt good. "Seventeen. And nine Woads. You win that bet with Lancelot, Bors?" he turned to the bigger knight perched on the fence, awaiting his contribution to the story of the battle. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 19 2010, 09:57 PM Post #107 |
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Author: Kay Date: Fri May 09, 2008 1:05 am Guinevere Guinevere glared at Mona; she could feel a bubble of anger rising in her body; the girl sniffled.
Guinevere chewed thoughtfully on her bread. There was something about Mona that disquited the Woad princess; the girl's face betrayed nothing, but Guinevere could sense an underlying air of hostility. She wasn't sure why, maybe it was Mona's body language, but Guinevere had enough experience of people and their games to know when something was amiss.
The healer's voice cut into Guinevere's thoughts; she stood up and began to pace around. "We have no way of knowing" she replied, after a pause. "Everything is dependent on Ash and how his mission fares." She was still turning over the problem of Mona in her mind. Then she made a decision. "I think it would be wise if we included two of the men my father left behind in our little party" she announced. Yes, that was the best course of action, she thought. A little insurance against Mona. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 03:42 PM Post #108 |
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Author: Eledhwen Date: Fri May 09, 2008 2:06 am Bors
Bors hurrumphed, and turned at the sound of a voice behind him to see Galahad all breathless and dripping.
"Nah, haven't seen him all day. Why? Can't cope on yer own son?" Bors grinned, prodding the young man hard on the shoulder. "Yer'll 'ave to start managin' soon boy, 'e won't be around forever for ya to 'ang on to 'is apron strings!" He laughed, and turned back to Tristan, scratching his stubbley beard thoughtfully. "'Aven't seen 'im neiver," he groused, "but 'e'll only lie anyway. 'Course I killed more. 'Im an' 'is poncey swords. Too busy showin' off to kill anyfing." He winced as he shifted his weight on the fence, and glanced at Darya to see if she had noticed. She didn't strike him as the kind of woman who would go telling tales, but you never knew with women. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 03:44 PM Post #109 |
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Author: Unicorn Date: Fri May 09, 2008 5:47 am Evana Once she entered the room she saw a man slumped on a bench, his hand laying on it's surface in that weak fashion she had seen so many times. The man was whole in sweat and his eyes weren't focused enough. Evana came closer and kneeled down before the man looking into his eyes.
Evana took his arm in both of her hands while he spoke. The cloth of his tunic was seemingly stick tightly to the wound. She looked into his pleading eyes for a second and smiled slightly. "You men!" she stood up and went to his other side motioning for him to stand. "Come on to the nearby cot... and I'll fix in no time, soldier" She helped him to stand and soon they moved to the bed. The man was really weak and it would be no surprise if the wound be really infected. "Sit..." she instructed him gently helping in his movements. There were needed suplies to get the job done. While she took some suplies from the table her other hand went to his forehead. Yes, fever was breaking into the man. Thank the God she was nearby... He would get worst without any medical help. She moved then to his arm and gently put her hands on it. "It might hurt a little...." she informed him and pulled the tunic out of the way, cuting it in the same moment. When the tunic was out of the way, Evana took fresh and clean cloth to clean the wounds itself... There was some of the dried blood around, once it was cleaned Evana threw a dirty cloth to the nearby basket and took a look at the wound itself. The edges of it were reddened... infection starting to spread. She had since that kind of wounds many times. Healer looked at the man, into his eyes giving him sympathetic smile. "This has to be reopen... Do you understand?" she asked and moved away from him. Searching for the right tool to do this. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 03:45 PM Post #110 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Fri May 09, 2008 8:38 am Derfel
“Thanks, friend,” Derfel gave Lucius a gentle smile in appreciation for the other man’s help, the soldier was even kind enough to clear others out of the knight’s path as he carried his lover down the coridore. And within minutes they had reached the door to the tiny room in the knights’ quarters that Derfel shared with Linnesse. Lucius opened the final door without hesitation and then very politely stepped aside for Derfel to enter. He once again gave the soldier a nod in appreciation. “I’ll be gettin’ you that well earned ale after she’s settled….thanks again, Lucius,” Derfel added before leaving the kind soldier out in the hall. He hated to not ask the man on into the room, but Linnesse needed some privacy and Derfel would make it up to Lucius a bit later with a few good drinks in the tavern. The man at least seemed to understand as he politely closed the door behind Derfel. Good man. Thank the gods the fire had not gone out in the brazier, it would need some tending…but at least the room was fairly warm yet. Derfel gently lay Linnesse down on their bed and smiled into her beautiful eyes as she reached up to touch his face.
Derfel had parted his lips to murmur something about how it was all due to Linnesse’s love, but she kissed him rather ardently considering her weakened condition. The feel of her tiny fingers in his hair and on his chilled stubbled face had Derfel quickly forgetting Linnesse’s frail state. He moaned his appreciation of her attentions into her mouth as he responded to the feel of her sweet tongue on his. It had been far too long since…. …..his free hand slid from her shoulders to the opening of her coat, his fingers easily loosening the ties and slipping inside to touch her. The soft material of the dress Linnesse wore was a thin barrier between his fingers and her milky smooth skin. No doubt the soaked strands of Derfel’s blond hair dripped all over Linnesse’s brow….and suddenly his brain finally engaged again. Derfel, you fool, you would hurt her in her condition! He suddenly broke the kiss, a popping sound as their mouths disengaged. “Luv, I’ve missed you…missed this so much,” Derfel whispered as he lightly traced a finger over Linnesse’s beautiful neckline. “But you need your rest more than anything right now,” He woefully added before placing a small kiss on the tip of her nose. Derfel then sat up a little more and began to remove Linnesse’s rather damp coat before the bed linens were completely soaked. But as his gaze caught a brief glimpse of Linnesse’s bare shoulder in the shift, Derfel could not stop himself from leaning down to brush his lips over the tender flesh there. If Derfel had his way about things right now, Linnesse would already be fully recovered from her illness and he’d spend the rest of this day showing her how much she was wanted and loved. But as fate would have it, she was still obviously quite weak….and if Derfel was any sort of smart, he’d take care of her now so that she would be better that much sooner. And besides, he knew he should look in on Dagonet and reassure the tall Sarmatian that Linnette was fine….or so he hoped. Surely the Commander had called her to only offer his condolences….Gedeon…why’d ya have to leave me with your wife to look after, aye? Derfel was finally seeing some humor in the current situation. But he still missed Gedeon and mourned the loss of his best friend something fierce. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 03:46 PM Post #111 |
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Author: Darya Date: Fri May 09, 2008 9:16 am Darya
A rather loud and very familiar voice stopped Tristan from answering her question right away. And Darya already knew who had just joined them by the riding arena before her head whipped around to confirm Bors' approach. Was the man limping? The female Sarmatian just parted her lips to comment on the burly knight’s words and as well as on his apparent injury when she noticed that Bors had been followed…
The dark-haired crossed her arms before her and watched Galahad and Bors exchanging a few words. She could not help but be quite amused by the oldest of the knights and his unique way of voicing his opinions. Darya cast a side glance at Tristan, figuring that he, too, might be rather amused by the little scene…even though the scout hardly ever showed such emotions. However, the woman then sort of covered her amusement by flashing a greeting smile at Bors as well as at Galahad…if a bit late perhaps.
Darya was honestly impressed by Tristan’s reply and gave him an appreciative nod. “Any count on arrow shots, too?”, she wondered, her eyes sparkling cheekily as she did so. But then Bors spoke again…and that made the female chuckle audibly. As much as she liked-disliked the First Knight…Bors' hilarious way of replying to Tristan’s question was just too good. “Don’t let him hear this…”, Darya said and grinned wryly, “…especially since his mood has not been the best earlier…” When Bors then moved a little, she noticed him wincing visibly…and arched an eyebrow at the older man. He should have a healer check on his leg for sure, but like all Sarmatians – including herself – Bors certainly was not keen on ending in the infirmary, thus the female just gave him a meaningful glance. Then she shifted her dark gaze towards Galahad. “What about you, Galahad? How did the did you manage during the battles?”, the dark-haired asked the young knight and tilted her head a little as she waited for him to speak… |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 03:48 PM Post #112 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Fri May 09, 2008 10:10 am Arthur Arthur closely regarded Linnette’s expression as she pulled her tiny fingers from his large sword callused hands. She was a courageous young woman. The Commander had not forgotten the great lengths Linnette had gone to during the mission to rescue her sister last season. He had admired her determination and strength then and she appeared to be relying on those same skills now as she gave Arthur a brave little smile. It broke his heart nonetheless.
The lines across Arthur’s brow deepened in conjunction with the slight frown that formed with his mouth. He braced himself by pressing the palms of both hands on the tabletop on either side of his hips and patiently listened as Linnette continued. His side twinged again, but Arthur ignored it…for now.
God’s will. Arthur exhaled as she looked away, and briefly his gaze dropped to Linnette’s abdomen…where she carried Gedeon’s unborn child. No woman should be forced to bring a child into this world without the support of the father. And no child should be without both parents. But Arthur knew all too well how unkind fate could be. And he silently cursed the role he had played in Gedeon’s fate. “While I do not question God’s purpose,” Arthur began in a thoughtful tone; expression reflective despite the buildup of guilt in his heart over Linnette’s personal loss. “I can only offer that I will never understand why we must be made to endure the loss of those deepest in our hearts.” “However, my faith in Him is what I must draw on to see through those pains,” Arthur continued with quiet conviction. He then paused as he thought on Gedeon and specifically why he had called Linnette here this morning. “My lady, your husband was a fine man. I mourn his loss and I pray for him. Please accept my apology for having nothing further to offer you and for not informing you personally upon my return,” Arthur spoke the words as gently as his deep voice would allow; compassionate emerald eyes never leaving Linnette’s brave face. His own weakness had kept Arthur from that particular duty, informing another innocent woman that he had made her a widow. Arthur swallowed roughly to clear the lump that had formed in his throat. By all rights, Linnette should despise Arthur. He could not fault her for it. And while Arthur waited for whatever Linnette may wish to add, he thanked God that he had no child…for he deserved none. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 03:53 PM Post #113 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Fri May 09, 2008 1:20 pm Eala Eala was chewing idly as she looked out the window. She was like a caged dog - longing for the wilds outside, longing to be where she was meant to be. The window was not the clearest but even still, the little blonde could see that it wasn't trees and wildnerness she looked at. It was grey stone unforgiving walls. Harsh corners. Cruel lines. Severe stonework which, to someone who was so used to nature, seemed insulting. So she imagined it ... she imagined all of what she knew to be familiar. Merlin, he stood over there with his head low, his eyes intense. Juna - thoughts of Juna made Eala self-consciously lift a hand to her shoulder. Te memory of that pain was as intense as Merlin's eyes. Guinevere would be up on those walls... the trees would be there, there and there... As Neeria prayed, Eala imagined. She moved away from the window, starting to pace, tugging her bottom lip outwards as she tried to think of what she was forgetting. She dare not think of her brother, it was still too painful to remember Donnchadh. The little blonde didn't notice Neeria's smile nor the man who entered. She had gone back to the window and narrowed her black eyes into the distance. What else... ? Ash! Ash would be ... Ash was right there, her imagination conjuring him to stand in front of her. Eala gave a small smile at first, thinking he was an apparition, but she soon raelised he was real and he was there. Her mouth dropped open and she slammed her hand against the window. The lead frame took the force of the blow as the ten-year-old whirled around with wide, excited black eyes to show Neeria, but they were not alone. Eala's stance altered completely. Her shoulders hunched and her knees bent - she crouched like a predator, looking at the man, prowling to one side until she realised it was the man who took the chains from her. The blonde narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. She was not convinced that just because he unchained her that he was inherently good. She looked back towards the window and then over at Neeria. Slowly, Eala walked to the bed, took a chunk of bread and stuffed it in her mouth, chewing it impolitely whilst eyeballing Titrus, showing him that she wasn't finished in here yet. Drake and Amadeus Why was he worried about leaving her? It was ludicrous. Drake trusted Arthur implicitly. There was no need to be afraid of what was going to happen behind those doors ... and yet... And yet Drake knew that this was inevitably to be about Gedeon. He knew that that would upset Linnette and she would be standing there all alone and ...
Drake was led out by the younger soldier. When he got outside he went across to the wall, dropped his saddlebags and started to chew the inside of his cheek whilst staring at the door. She would be all alone and trying not to cry. Her eyes would be flinty, her hands probably gripping her skirts or fingers digging into her palm to distract her from the real pain. With a rueful shake of his head, Drake finally raelised that Malcus had called him old man. Well, he certainly was that. At more than 35 winters he was the most senior man outside the door here at least. He had seen more battles than these men, killed more men than they had done. He had suffered and ensured others suffered whilst these were still in their swaddling clothes. Strange how that was. Well wasn't this comfortable? Amadeus feigned nonchalance as they all gathered outside Arthur's door. he was not sure why the trainer Drake was lingering. He had no duty here. He had no task or order to be here so why did he linger? And why did he look so bloody annoyed? The Optio was pondering these thoughts, just coming to a couple of wrong conclusions as to why Drake was there when Lancelot broke the silence.
The tight voice of Lancelot distracted Drake from his study of the wood of Arthur's door. He cocked his eyebrow at the Sarmatian, wondering at his audacity, bravery, stupidity - whatever it was, to quetsion a Roman Optio in such a tone. The old Roman soldier lifted one hand to his face, rubbing his calloused fingers against his bearded cheek, looking back at the door. Aware that Malcus was watching and would, no doubt, report to Arthur, Amadeus looked over at Lancelot with his eyebrows raised. He was aiming for a look of innocence but instead it looked more like insult that he was being spoken to at all. And how dare he insinuate that he had something to do with the Woads attack!! How dare he imply that this was somehow an inside job! Amadeus ignored Lancelot's hand going to his dagger. Strange that he was not in the least scared of Lancelot though he knew the man would cut his throat given the opportunity. Unpredictable as Lancelot was, he just did not hold the same fear for Amadeus that Arthur did. If Lancelot killed him Amadeus knew that his life would then be forfeit. And, oddly, he would be almost willing to sacrifice his life just to know that his death would be teh death of Lancelot too. Such cheery thoughts ensured the Optio kept a straight face as he shrugged. "I presume the Woads are not blind and took note of the fact that the cavalry had left. It also does us no favours that certain woads have been given the freedom of the fortress on more than one occassion. Any number of foes might lurk in the shadows." It was not a threat. But a reminder. Neatly disguised. Catherine Catherine felt rather silly for having been so suggestive. Things had been going the way she always longed for them to be and she had squandered it by drawing attention to her way of life. It was silly and she could barely think straight when she saw Gawain so visibly wilt. It was almost as if she had slapped him in the face, so acute was his reaction. For once she was not being precisely what a man wanted her to be, she was being.. herself. It was strange territory. Catherine was a stranger to herself. When she asked what he would do when he left Britain, Gawain took a long time to answer. The whore thought she had completely repulsed him, she thought she had irreperably sullied their time together and was about to rise to her feet, to walk away silently never to bother him again. It was a horrible sinking feeling to know that she had failed at being herself, but alas, her moment was not over yet.
Catherine positively beamed when he spoke. So she had not completely ruined this then! Her relief was palpable as her shoulders relaxed, her head tilted and her finger idly twirled a strand of golden hair this way and that, unconsciously trailing it over her lips now and then, but her green eyes remained on Gawain, resolved to committ every word to memory.
Such things she had never considered within the scope of these Knights to contemplate! Catherine's body language was positive - she leaned forward in her seat, the pale bodice she wore revealing an impressive, creamy bosom, but her hair fell over it, decently covering her body as she revelled in this information. The philosophy behind it. Things like freedom, like home and surviving... being owned. Not even in all her thinking had Catherine really thought about these things and now that she did she found herself pitying the Sarmatians. She found herself wanting to touch Gawain's hand which was so close to her own which lay still on the table. She wanted to tell him that he would survive to taste freedom, or at least tell him that she hoped he would, but it all sounded so silly in her mind. He smiled. She smiled. Catherine's smile was rather impish, her fingers curled inwards and then one finger twisted outwards, touching Gawain's teacup. Her eyes had dropped to his calloused fingers but snapped back up at his face when he, not only asked her name, but asked of her interests. Her mouth was agape and it took a moment to compose herself, breathing a gentle laugh of surprise as she looked back at his fingers. Initially she waved off his offer of tea but when she glanced up at him for only a moment she saw hope in his eyes, a hope for her to remain. Catherine knew that look - it was usually when she was dressing to leave a bedroom that a man looked like that she inevitably stayed the night talking... So she changed her mind. "Tea. Please, Gawain." she spoke his name with an odd intonation, almost like an incantation. Her bottom lip was tucked in between her pearly teeth a moment - "And I'm Catherine." the whore introduced herself. Her index finger had moved up the side of his tea-cup and was trailing over one of his fingers now, dipping down to the tea-cup and onto his other one. It was an idle gesture but somehow quite intimate. "And my interests..." Catherine laughed, her cheeks coloring with embarrassment. Oh gods how easy it would be to just lie. To tell Gawain that she liked horses and dresses or knitting or something like that. How tempting it was to pretend she was like normal whores and not some oddity! The blonde cleared her throat. She moved her arm, propping her elbow onto the wood and cupping the side of her neck with her palm, creamy fingers arund the back at the nape of her neck. She couldn't meet Gawain's eyes, their hazy green depths watering as she stared at his fingers. Not from sadness, but because she was afraid to blink. Stupidly. "I dream about ... land. Foreign lands. Of lands of sunshine and snow. Lands that have whole winters of blackness and summers were the sun never sets. I long for men with skin as black as coal, women who have metal pierced into their bodies for decoration and dedication to their gods. I... I ..." Catherine stopped her whispering and looked up at Gawain. She looked so embarrassed. She laughed, at herself, and shook her head, lifting her hand from toying with Gawain's to cover her face as she laughed again. "I sound silly. A whore with a dream. Isn't that strange?" the blonde asked Gawain, peeking out at him from behind her fingers, still smiling beautifully but still obviously embarrassed. It was a strange kind of embarrassment because she did not try to hide it. Galahad When Galahad caught up with Bors he saw that Darya and Tristan were there too. He gave them both a tense, not-really-happy smile, and looked back at Bors expectantly. He never got much good out of Tristan anyway - so it was probably pointless to ask him if he had seen Gawain.
The young knight's nose wrinkled a little and his eyebrows drooped to create a dark 'v' between his eyes as he looked at Bors. He scoffed at the older Knights teasing, rolling his blue eyes and folding his arms over his chest. Licking his bottom lip and refusing to even look at Bors when he was being such an arse, Galahad pouted, looking at the rafters until he had finished. "I'm not bloody ... !" he began, but Bors had already turned his attention back to Tristan.
Forgetting his recent sulk, Galahad perked up a bit, losing some of the poutish look from his face as he looked from Bors to Tristan - "Who? Lancelot?" he grinned, knowing that it was Lancelot but speaking to include himself in the conversation. Galahad snickered, enjoying Bors' mockery of the first Knight. It wasn't that he disliked Lancelot. He was just a cocky bastard at times. It did a man good to be taken down a peg or two - and besides, it was usually himself that was being ribbed like this. It felt good to know that it wasn't only him tha was the butt of jokes.
Being both male and a warrior, Galahad blithely ignored Bors' discomfort, instead turning his boyish grin towards Darya, turning quite smug as he shrugged non-chalantly. "I wasn't keeping count. I couldn't really... I was right in the thick of it you see." he bragged, glancing over at Tristan with a wry grin on his face. He sniffed and shrugged his shoulder, leaning his elbow onto the fence next to Bors and aimed to look non-chalant. It always looked to be an effort with Galahad. Being the youngest, and looking the youngest, always made his gestures and stances look like he was only copying the other knights. "Gawain and me took out at least 40 between us though. And Arthur, gods he got that big ... g.. guy... " Galahad's voice trailed off and he grimaced, recalling just who the big guy was. Derfel's father. He cleared his throat again, giving a sheepish shrug of his shoulder as he scratchd the back of his neck. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 04:02 PM Post #114 |
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Author: Ranchera Date: Fri May 09, 2008 3:57 pm Connell
Connell noticed Mona still mad-dogging him, her strong eyes never departing from his face. He wasn't used to this, and found her entirely disconcerting, however the lady Guinevere reminded him of the matter at hand. He wasn't going to allow Mona to distract him. He was going to have to rely on his practicality. "Lady," he said, as gently as he could, "for certain there is protection in great numbers. But I think-- and I could be mistaken, for you are far greater practiced in fighting methods than I-- this may be the time to cloak ourselves in secrecy and keep our numbers small. Less noticeable. It would be easier to get us three inside, easier than five. "And perhaps I am rushing things in my impatience, but I don't think we should wait too long. Neeria may be fighting for her life even now. I say, we give it no more than a day for the signal of the man inside. If we don't get it, we need to devise our own plan. What do you say?" |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 04:03 PM Post #115 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Fri May 09, 2008 4:45 pm Brendyn As the nun took his arm, Brendyn winced and held his breath until the pain passed. He did have to hand it to her, she was gentle. Brendyn felt thirsty and just wanted some water or something to ease the dryness in his mouth. The only thing that kept his mind off of the pain was the way the morning began watching Tatiana wake up beside him and how her eyes fluttered open in the dim morning light...
...Brendyn, as weak as he felt, stood and leaned slightly against the nun as she moved him to a nearby cot that looked more comfortable than the bench he had been placed on. Brendyn felt a bit warm, and as soon as he lay down on the cot, he waited to see what she'd do next... he hoped for something that would sedate him slightly while he was being worked on. This woman was gentle and it reminded him of his aunt who had had a gentle but firm demeanor about her....even as the nun lay a hand on his forehead. '...name..is Brendyn....' he mumbled. He gasped then as she began to remove the tunic from the dried blood and muck that had caused the discomfort. Bren groaned while she worked...
Being a soldier, Bren had been hurt several times, so he should have been use to the pain, but he had never dealt with infection. As she gently pulled the cloth away from the wound cutting the tunic in the same moment, the young soldier reminded himself that he was a soldier and should be use to pain , but he was also human and even though the nun was being as gentle as she could, the wound was just tender. He relaxed and looked up at the ceiling as she took clean cool water and began to methodically clean the dirt, access cloth and crusted blood from around the injury to get a better look. Brendyn wondered what she was seeing as she really had not told him much except that whatever she was doing would hurt a bit. 'What does it look like, ' He asked out of curiosity. Brendyn was answered with a sympathetic smile...all he could think of was Malcus and Titrus's anger at all of this....but int he same thought, he heard Antonius yelling at him to get his butt off the dime to get back to training. Then there was the lighter thought of the maid with Copper hair...
Bren swallowed hard, and hoped again that she'd at least sedate him before cutting the wound open to drain, but then as sore as it was maybe he'd feel nothing. Brendyn nodded, turning his head slightly to watch the nameless nun move off a bit to get the instrument needed... "I understand," He said softly. In his mind, he tried to think of when he could go back to cleaning the latrines then get back to his regualr duties. As long as you have two feet and at least one good arm, you can go back to your duties....What are you, Brendyn? lame?...lame...lame... came the voice inside his head. Silently he knew Titrus had been right: How could he have been so stupid as to let the wound get that bad? But the medicus that treated him the first time...had he been skilled enough to do a good job? It was obvious to BRen now that the medic had been in a big hurry, and now he was back having the wound retreated.... 'You have been very kind, Sister,' Brendyn whispered. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 04:04 PM Post #116 |
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Author: Lancelot Date: Fri May 09, 2008 5:03 pm Lancelot Lancelot thought it interesting that Scipio wasn't directly challenging him. Was the man a coward? He was, after all, the "official" second in command. Not like the Spaniard or Barbattus would cry too much if the First Knight and Optio killed each other. Arthur might be a tad peeved, but he could find himself another whore another second. Gawain was good - Lancelot smeared a dirty hand over his face. Despite his state of being dressed, he felt disgusting and bloody still. The baths were the one Roman invention the Sarmatian actually liked - and he'd like to visit them once this business with Merlin was settled. Merlin. The old Woad fucker would be first on Lancelot's kill list...or perhaps it would be the hook-nosed man who was nonchalantly answering his heated question.
"As might any number of turncoats," Lancelot snapped back. He remained leaning against the wall, but his body was beginning to ache with the strain it was taking not to hit this man. How could it be possible that in the whole of the Roman army, there was only one good commander? "You do realize one of the Magician's leaders has been in this fortress before - did you see her? Did you see Guinevere?" Lancelot's grip on the hilt of his dagger tightened involuntarily. Memories of his capture, and of Guinevere and ... Mordred ... made Lancelot shudder without realizing it. "Did Merlin personally lead the attack?" Lancelot's voice was tight; if they had been out fighting the fucking waste-of-breath Saxons when Merlin himself might have actually been here, been inside Badon....gods. The mere thought made Lancelot want to punch the wall. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 04:07 PM Post #117 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Fri May 09, 2008 8:05 pm Tristan
"Eh...good riddance. Glad he did," Tristan put in with a roll of his eyes for Galahad's oversensitivity on that small point. It didn't matter a bit to Tristan that the Saxon King had been Derfel's father- well, at least it didn't matter now that Derfel's loyalty had been proven. The only worry Tristan had had about that particular situation was whether Derfel would be led to change his allegiance because of it. The sentimental aspect, the fact that Derfel had had to essentially be complicit in his father's death, made no impression on Tristan. After all, Derfel hadn't even seen Aelle since he was a very small child- how much of a father could he have been? And he was the fucking King of the Saxons. Some father. "Better than taking him home," he added, with palpable exasperation as he, too, leaned once again on the fence, between Darya and Galahad. Once more his eyes were on the dirt floor of the arena, and he smudged around some of the loose grains with his toe idly. He referred, of course, to the Woad woman, and the fact that Arthur was damned deluded if he thought she was going to provide anything like useful information. Linnesse
"Hmmmph." Linnesse made a soft, discontented- though distinctly tired- sound as she surrendered to Derfel's assistance in removing her cloak. It was certainly good to get the wet, heavy cloth out from under and around her, so it could be replaced by the warmth of blankets instead. Her eyes began to drift towards closing again as Derfel began to considerately arrange the bedding- but in the midst of that, his warm mouth descending on her shoulder, bare where the dress had slid down a bit, brought back a small wave of arousal again; she smiled, caught her breath, and arched up into him involuntarily, once again sliding her hand around to the back of his neck and holding him to her. "I wish..." she whispered, then broke off, raising her head to place a soft, lingering kiss on his cheek. "I just wish...you know." I wish there weren't so many barriers in the way of this right now. Her own illness, Linnette, of course- all those things were reality, whereas unlimited time to enjoy themselves was fantasy. Still, Linnesse would have given anything for Derfel's homecoming not to be like this. For Gedeon to have had a homecoming at all, for that matter. For it to be different. Linnesse leaned upwards again and nuzzled her cheek against Derfel's, placed a couple of kisses on his earlobe and neck, and then reluctantly subsided, lying her head back down. Though rewarding, in terms of the kisses, it was exhausting, just holding her head up like that. "I haven't welcomed you properly," she murmurred from the pillow, looking up at him and letting her fingers trace the ridge of his cheekbone. Linnette
"Of course." Linnette nodded gravely in return, but though she tried to hold eye contact with the Commander, she found it was a futile exercise. Seeing the pity and regret in his eyes- and it was obvious- pained her even more, and once more, tears threatened. A fine man. Gedeon had been that and so much more. Water clouded her vision again, and she blinked and focused determinedly on the design of a small rug on the floor, once more tightening her jaw, but this time to prevent it from trembling. Her arms remained crossed- in truth she had no idea what to do with them. There was nothing to do. "No apology is necessary," she managed to add, in a small voice, choked with the effort not to cry. She did glance up at the Commander one more time, though- searching for confirmation of the thing she had wondered about. Was Arthur wounded? She had thought it was possible, considering his near-immediate disappearance from the courtyard yesterday- but there was no indication of it now, no hint of pain in his posture. If he was hurt, he was hiding it very well indeed. "Thank you." Another near-sob, quickly suppressed. Arthur was a great man, as she had always thought. A great man indeed. She owed much to him- but her husband had followed him to his death, as well. And where did that leave her? She bowed her head again, hoping, truthfully, that she would be dismissed soon. Her throat ached with the effort of not crying, and there was no more to say, anyway. Nothing could change anything. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 04:37 PM Post #118 |
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Author: linnet Date: Sat May 10, 2008 3:36 am Gawain When Gawain talked of Sarmatia and freedom, she seemed to absorb the words as if they were drops of rain falling on a beautiful but parched landscape. It was almost as if he could see life flowering in her face and eyes as she drank in the ideas he was sharing with her. And it fascinated him. Other women had looked at him with rapt attention as he talked. But he could tell by their starry-eyed gaze and awe-struck expression that it wasn’t what he had to say that interested them. It was who he was. They didn’t want to know him. If they were intelligent, they went to great lengths to hide it, perhaps fearing it would make them less feminine or attractive. The intellect that radiated from this woman was very attractive to the blonde knight.
He cocked his head to the side, raising one eyebrow a bit in reaction to her knowing his name. It didn’t surprise him, but it made him smile in spite of that. He was aware the knights had an almost larger than life image. He would have bet money that she could name all of his fellow Sarmatians here at Badon. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a little flattered. “Catherine,” he said, his rich voice trying out the name. He nodded slightly as he studied her, deciding the name fit her well. His eyes shifted to the table, without moving his head. He had felt the touch of her finger trailing over his hand. It seemed an almost idle gesture of friendship, comfortable. He returned his eyes to her face, letting his hand rest where it was, not moving it away but not returning the touch. When she withdrew her fingers for a moment, he signaled for a server to order more tea. Then he returned his hand to the same resting place. He was surprised how important it seemed that she had accepted his offer to stay a while. He wanted to learn more about her while he had this chance. He wanted to spend more time with this person who knew where Jutland was, and who seemed interested in hearing about his life. He gave her a coaxing look to encourage her to tell him more about herself.
Gawain’s expression was full of wonderment as she described the strange places she dreamed of. Did they really exist, or were they actually only dreams? He had to find out. If she knew of such places as these, imagine what else she might know. His mind was forming eager questions for her. She hadn’t looked at him, though, while she spoke. She looked down at the table, seeming embarrassed to be telling him these things, barely managing to reveal them in whispered tones.
His blue eyes suddenly became serious and intense as she finally dared to look up at him. “You don’t sound silly, Catherine,” he said softly. He couldn’t quite handle the ‘whore with a dream’ part. He might have told her that everyone needed dreams, that it wasn’t strange for even a whore to dream of a different world. But at some point she had ceased being a whore in his eyes. He smiled reassuringly, regaining his glow of almost childish curiosity. “Where are lands of black winters and summers without night? Where do women with metal piercing their bodies live? How did you learn of these things? Show me.” He wasn’t challenging or doubting her, but wanting her to share what she knew. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 04:41 PM Post #119 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Sat May 10, 2008 11:46 am Derfel As Derfel diligently worked to get Linnesse settled, her fingers were grasping invitingly at the nape of his neck again….it would take all the willpower that Derfel could gather to refrain from….
“Yes…..I do,” He murmured with an affectionate smile and shimmering blue eyes as Linnesse’s soft lips pressed to his scruffy cheek and throat. By the gods, he needed to shave. He gently brushed a hand over her hair and deeply inhaled her sweet scent while attempting to push away the heavier thoughts clouding above them both right now.
Derfel’s eyebrows stitched together for a moment. ‘Properly?’ “Oh luv,” Derfel tenderly replied as his expression softened in realization to what Linnesse had meant. “I was ‘properly’ welcomed home the moment you smiled at me,” He readily reassured her and then placed a warm kiss on the corner of her sweet mouth. “I could not wait to see your pretty face again after all that had happened….” Derfel’s voice trailed off and he briefly shut his eyes to the horrors of the mission. He then reached for Linnesse’s hand and kissed at the tops of her fingers. “You rest now, hm?” Derfel instructed while pulling the blankets up to cover Linnesse. He then stood from their bed and went to the small brazier in the far corner of the room. Within moments he had the fire fully crackling again with the addition of several sticks of wood to the flames. He brushed his hands off on the front of his trousers and then turned an assessing gaze on Linnesse. “Thirsty? Need anything to eat?” Derfel queried while thinking on what, if anything, that Linnesse might require before he headed off to look in on Dagonet and provide Lucius with his ‘payment’ for services rendered. Arthur
Arthur offered a small smile as Linnette met his gaze with grace in her sad eyes and again thought on how incredibly brave Linnette was, a true credit to her husband’s devotion. Women were often weak, fragile things meant to be protected and cherished. Arthur knew few exceptions to this rather male propagated belief: his sister, mother and even his lover…if Arthur would allow himself to recognize it.
The Commander had said all that he had intended on the matter of the lady’s personal loss. Arthur was skilled in many areas but shamefully incompetent in properly comforting a grieving widow. Especially when he held himself personally responsible for her loss. Still, Arthur reached over to gently lay a hand on Linnette’s shoulder if only for a moment….truly not wishing to offend her or add to her distress. Arthur cleared his throat as he stiffly stood up from his perch on the table. There was nothing more to say on Gedeon’s behalf. Nothing that he could do to bring the young man back to her. And nothing he could offer that would be of any comfort. That much was clear in the brief silence between them. “Speaking of God’s will…it seems that I shall be primarily confined to my quarters for the immediate future,” Arthur said rather dryly, changing the subject with the intention to spare Linnette any further discomfort. His hand moved to rather conspicuously cover his stitches, although Arthur was not intentionally drawing attention to his injury. His mind was still focused on Linnette’s drawn expression. “If you would be so kind as to have Vanora brings me the ledgers from the tavern. I will gladly see to them personally, giving you a reprieve from that particular task for as long as you need,” Arthur requested while offering his arm to Linnette with the intention of escorting her to the door. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 20 2010, 04:42 PM Post #120 |
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Author: Kayla Date: Sat May 10, 2008 1:59 pm Fiona
All Fiona wanted to do was comfort him, the reason why she was so willing to wrap him up in an embrace, like one she would give the small woad children if they caused mischief and got hurt because of it. She was, as cliche as the term is, a lover and not a fighter, although she really only knew about the fighting side. She had never been with a man before and it felt quite strange to be hugging one, even if he was viewed as a friend to her. But it was a good sort of strange, since she had never hugged any other man except for perhaps her father when she was a small child. His fingers began to run through her hair and she let out a soft sigh, burying her face into his shoulder. It was a comfort to her as well, with the recent loss of Brianna going back home to the woads and being by herself in the fort. She had people to be around and look after her but it didn't mean it wasn't still hard for her. The woad involuntarily let out a tiny little gasp, barely audible in the quiet of the room, when Adian turned his face into the skin of her neck and nuzzled her neck and hair. He spoke then and she took in a deep breath. "I care, so much, Adian." She closed her eyes as he now placed a kiss on her neck, the feel of his tear-stained face rubbing up against it and she found herself involuntarily tilting her head to the side at the feel of it and so that he could have better access. It was yet another strange thing that she was feeling, but it sent her stomach acting like it was full of butterflies and her heart pounding, sounding like it would come out of her chest at any moment. Altogether, in a brief moment, she felt a mixture of the foreign, the untried aspects that she still didn't understand about life but she also felt that Adian cared for her. A nagging doubt still rang in her mind for some reason, but she squashed it down for now, naive and eager to see where this was headed. |
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