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| June 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 23 2010, 07:18 PM (3,687 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 07:18 PM Post #1 |
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Summary here |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 07:18 PM Post #2 |
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Author: Kay Date: Sun Jun 01, 2008 3:06 am Guinevere
Guinevere groaned inwardly as Mona suddenly began to shout out after Ash. She was about to silence the girl, when Ash did it for her, pinning the foolish Woad to the wall and clamping his hand over her mouth. Thank the gods that they had not been heard.
Oh, please do Guinevere thought. Much as she disliked Ash, at least he had some sense; how Mona had survived this long when she so clearly lacked any common sense, was a miracle to the Woad princess.
Guinevere glanced in the direction that Ash had indicated. They were heading to the stables. Why would they being going there? The cold hand of fear closed around her heart. Was Mona right after all? Was Neeria going to lead the Romans to her father? She immediately shook off the notion. There must be some other explanation. "Good luck then" she said to Ash, then turned to Mona. "We have to hurry. I hope that I can trust you not to do anything foolish, as you did just now. Our lives depend on how you conduct yourself, Mona" Guinevere readjusted her disguise, so that most of her face was hidden beneath the tattered cloth, and seizing the foolish girl's hand, Guinevere began to drag her in the direction of the stables; her mouth was set in a line of grim determination and she stared straight ahead, hoping that no one would dare to challenge her; hoping that to all around she would appear to be merely an inhabitant of the fortress and that she was a woman in an obvious hurry. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 07:21 PM Post #3 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Sun Jun 01, 2008 7:28 am Tristan
Tristan shifted uncomfortably, his eyes straying once again over to Neeria, then back to Barbattus. He didn't necessarily disagree with Barbattus's assessment of the Optio, but to bad-mouth him like that right in front of the prisoner, who was surely watching for any sign of any situation she could exploit to her advantage? At least, Tristan would be doing the same in her place. Neeria continued to walk along at Barbattus's side quietly enough, but Tristan wasn't satisfied that she was really a traitor to her people...oh, no. However, the scout's caution and unease seemed to be lost on Barbattus, who babbled on as he so often did, with no reduction in his vitriol against the Optio, as he ushered the Woad woman into the stables and Tristan followed.
What? Tristan's gaze flew sharply back to Neeria, his eyebrows raised and his mouth slighly open, before he controlled his aghast expression with a hard swallow and looked firmly away, trying to recover himself. She trusted him? Impossible! He had done nothing to make her trust him- nothing to make her think he was anything but an enemy. That stupid blanket, that didn't signify. It was nothing. Already she had been given medical treatment and clothes, far more than Tristan had done for her, and yet she didn't profess to idolize those people, did she? It was a trick- a damn Woad trick, and she had somehow picked Tristan for a fool, a gullible one who might aid in her escape, or whatever else she planned to do. Well, Tristan wasn't a fool. He would keep an even closer eye on her now, and one false move and she'd get a dagger between her ribs. "I don't trust you," he muttered, shooting her another sharp, but almost fearful, glance, before moving off down the row of stalls where Tirgatao was kept. It wasn't far, fortunately. He pulled the saddle from its place and got started getting the horse ready to go, but he never, never, took his eyes from the Woad prisoner for more than a fraction of a second. He watched her, his eyes burning with the intensity of it. There was little enough she could do while they were still in the fort, he thought- but she might think of something. In fact, Tristan would have preferred to tie her to one of the stable pillars while he and Barbattus got their horses ready- but the Captain had charge of her, and Tristan didn't want to override that. So he just worked as quickly as possible, and watched the woman the whole time. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 07:22 PM Post #4 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Sun Jun 01, 2008 10:47 am Vanora One last look at Linnette, and Vanora turned and left the young woman to her work, and her grief. There was never a cure for sorrow, but Vanora knew that one had to at least try. Walking back down the stairs, the redhead went through the kitchen where the smells of lunch made her wish it was her break time. Vanora smiled at the cooks as she left the kitchen and went into the seating area. More folks had entered the tavern...and at least one new one that she had never seen before (Cael). It had been awhile since she had seen Darya, Titrus she had seen the other day around dinner time, Tristan had gone, and Adian had not come back. Wiping her hands on her apron, Vanora stepped behind the counter and drew four ales while looking to see anyone motion for a refill. Though she loved them a lot, Vanora was glad that her children had all gone outside to play. Kids loved to play in mud and rain, though bath time would await them a bit later to warm them up... Ione Ione looked down at Mirtha while she knelt above him, and thought back to how wonderful it had felt for him to be giving her scars such affection...his tongue and his hands both. How she had moved back so that she could feel one hand reach to her front an tease an aroused nipple. These erotic thoughts aroused her now as she looked down at Mirtha with a wicked smile. His touches made her want him...to have nothing but him all day, though eventually she'd have to open the shop later in the evening....for now, it was she and Mirtha and the world outside did not exist. The earlier memory of feeling his need for her through his breeches had made him stop tending to her scars and take a deep breath...the feel of his breath on her skin. hearing his pants drop to the floor, and the feel of raw power as her hands made contact with his skin... It was vague how they had made it to the bed...but the taste of his sweaty skin as she had licked her way up his legs to straddle his thighs. Kneeling over his length now, Ione looked down at the toned well muscled body and wondered just where...if she touched him right...would bring fourth a moan of need for her. Smiling at Mirtha, Ione began to lightly touch his chest. She lowered her slender body onto his upper legs just shy of his length, then ran light touches over his chest, stomach, then to the base of him...all the while watching to see his reactions to what she was doing. Mirtha was so hard, but as much as she wanted him, Ione wanted him to want her so much that he'd beg for her...or vice versa if it came to that. Around the base of his length her fingers went...Then she moved them back up to his chest.
His voice was bearly a whisper as one hand went to her waist long auburn hair running his fingers through the soft strands, while his other hand remained on her hip. Laughing softly, Ione moved off of him and rolled back onto the bed. Her hands moved above her head causing her aroused breasts to firm up a bit more knowing that if Mirtha decided to tease them, the feeling would be enhanced. Ione's long hair framed her upper body in a soft wavey frame. The young weaver turned her head to look at the man who's skin touched hers, and licked her parted lips temptingly. The one thing Ione loved was the elemment of surprise and she wondered what Mirtha had in mind. 'Aye, we do have time...' The look in his eyes as they met hers made her lick her tongue over her lips... |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 07:23 PM Post #5 |
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Author: Unicorn Date: Sun Jun 01, 2008 12:04 pm Dagonet Dagonet liked Jols... Always straight to the point, always around and everybody could always count on him. On their missions it was Jols to keep the supplies and everything in order. He was a good man... honest and hard working.
Wounded knight listened with concern in his eyes. How was Arthur feeling? Was he seriously wounded? Should he not be here, if so? Lancelot should know. He was the one closest to the commander... He would not leave his side if Arthur was feeling really bad. And so the mere words from Jols that Lancelot left the commander for the time being were positive and brought some kind of reliefe into Dagonet's heart. He nodded silently looking away from Jols, his face deep in thoughts... a big pang of guilt hit him again. He should be there to look over Arthur... to look over Bors.. to look over them all... He looked around quietly... and where was Saoirse? He feared for her also.
He looked back at Jols... his expression of face emotionless. There was a slight movement of corners of his mouth but nothing more. "Aye... Good enough" he informed his friend. "What is the news of the Woads? Do you know anything?" he wanted to keep the conversation going as he felt tired himself and he did not want to fell back into sleep... He did not want to give up once more. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 07:24 PM Post #6 |
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Author: Starbelle Date: Sun Jun 01, 2008 5:21 pm Jols
"Everything's quiet on the outside, thank goodness. I heard that we're keeping an extra supply of archers to switch off with the ones that are already there, to keep them off-guard. We managed to capture two of them, both girls, I think. " Jols replied. "Lancelot'll be better able to fill you in on the details regarding the woads much better than I can regarding them as I'm not sure what happened and don't want to give you any wrong or incorrect information." The squire said an honest tone in his voice. "Both your saddle and weapons have been fixed, repaired, as well as sharpened. Your horse has been brushed down and taken care of as well and is relaxing in his stall with a full bale of hay in his feed bin to eat." Jols said bringing Dags up to date on everything else. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 07:25 PM Post #7 |
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Author: Lancelot Date: Sun Jun 01, 2008 6:13 pm Lancelot Lancelot continued his hasty walk across the courtyard, but stopped short as he passed by the stables, and noticed Tristan - who was there with Barbattus and the Woad girl. He didn't see the Optio, which meant one of two things. One, the other man was on his way to meet the group that was traveling to see Merlin. Or, and this was the scenario Lancelot hoped wasn't the case, two, he was still ensconced with Arthur. Damn it. Should he go on to Arthur's quarters - and risk running into the man he'd almost punched - or wait a bit, and hope he'd see Scipio when he arrived at the stables? Lancelot's back felt naked without his blades, and his anger surged up again at his stupidity. Leaving your means of life behind. Oh, well done, Lancelot. Tristan and the others disappeared inside the stables, and that made up Lancelot's mind for him. Moving off toward his original goal, he slopped the rest of the way through the rain to the quarters building, and pausing briefly at the entryway to shake like a dog - he snorted at the imagery; no doubt some of the Roman officers would enjoy it - he strode purposefully to Arthur's door. He ran his hands through his wet hair, slicking it back and exposing his face. He hoped the rain had washed some of the grime off - if only to keep up his normal fierce appearance. He'd hate to see Scipio again and not look like his barbarian self. Wetting his lips, he smiled to himself at the thought of invading the Optio's space once again - now, Lancelot, give the man the benefit of the doubt - and knocked at Arthur's door. He thought it might be the first time he'd ever not just entered; the commander should consider himself complemented. What if Darya was inside? He squeezed the ends of his wet hair again and waited for Arthur to call out. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 07:26 PM Post #8 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Sun Jun 01, 2008 8:11 pm Malcus Barbattus and Neeria
Neeria didn’t blink when Tristan spoke to her. She just watched him, her dark eyes locked onto his golden glare. The woad didn’t expect trust from him. His trust didn’t matter. Not yet. Neeria needed him to go along. Tristan’s presence was, for some reason she did not understand, a comfort to her. She supposed because it was as though she was looking at Mikel. Neeria lowered her eyes as Tristan walked away to tack his horse. She knew he’d just as soon kill her as not. Neeria peered at the scout as he loaded up. She watched him move effortlessly, silently, almost as a dance, his braids swinging about his head. If she was about to die, then so be it. She would die under her own terms, with Tristan there, where he cared or not. Malcus knew he shouldn’t have bad-mouthed another Roman officer in the presence of a prisoner, but he didn’t care about this little whelp of a girl. She’d probably be dead by the end of the afternoon anyway, so why should he hold his tongue? To hell with this bitch and the optio too! The captain snorted with disgust and grabbed the prisoner by the arm. “I don’t trust you either,” Malcus said and led Neeria down a row of stalls. The captain stopped in front of his own horse, Falco, who had already been saddled and appeared ready to ride. “Ready to ride, my good man?” Malcus greeted his mount with a pat on the horse’s velvety nose. Falco whickered. “Good man!” Malcus said in reply. “I hope you can ride girl,” he said to Neeria. “If not, you’ll either soon learn or you’ll find yourself with a broken neck.” Neeria glared at Malcus. “I shall not break my neck, Roman. You would not be that lucky,” she said and rolled her eyes. Malcus laughed. The girl had a mouth on her. If she wasn’t a woad, he would have liked that. But she was and therefore he didn’t. “We need one more mount,” the captain said to the stable boy. “It doesn’t matter which one, any old mare will do,” he chuckled. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 07:27 PM Post #9 |
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Author: sabor ice Date: Sun Jun 01, 2008 11:26 pm Milan
While Mari explained herself, Milan side-glanced Ash with a petulant pout of his lips. There was something completely unsettling about the way the man assessed them, his dark eyes enigmatic, unreadable. And although Mari seemed oblivious to the stranger's silence, it filled Milan's ears like some eerie void. His forehead crumpled in suspiciousness, his features guarded, wary. Unconsciously, Milan side-stepped partially in front of Mari, their entwined fingers behind him. The protective gesture had been subtle, but poignant. The stranger seemed to be amused by this, his crooked smile wicked. The columns in Milan's neck visibly tensed as he swallowed roughly, but his eyes flashed in warning. Ash snickered and retreated at last, and slowly Milan turned back to Mari, his hands on her shoulders as he studied her face intently. She was smiling, her mood uplifted, even as she stood there drenched head to toe and shivering. He pulled the hood of her cloak up, his palm briefly resting against her cheek, before he reached for her hand and led her straight to the bathhouse. Her purple cloak was stained with grime and soaked through and through, the fabric seemingly even weighing her down in such condition. Without preamble he unfastened the brooch around her neck, stealing the cloak from around her slight form and discarding it on a nearby bench. Her face was caked with muck, her dark hair disarrayed, but even so Milan retrieved a clean towel and arranged it over her head, tenderly working his fingertips through it to help dry her wet locks. He dipped a hand underneath the folds of the towel to cup the side of her neck, his thumb brushing against her jawline. His free hand gently memorized her face as his distracted blue eyes finally locked with hers. Palpable relief flooded his features as he looked down at her. Suddenly nothing in the world mattered more to him in that moment than knowing Mari was alright. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 07:30 PM Post #10 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Mon Jun 02, 2008 2:28 am Amadeus
Oh that was a sarcastic note was it not? Amadeus did not react to Arthur's words though it was on his lips to tell the Commander that 'his own men', were in fact, Rome's men. They served the Empire, not Arthur Castus. They were there for Rome, not for Arthur Castus. Arthur Castus was crossing a line in claiming the men as his alone for they should have been broken and re-trained to obey any superior officer.. not just Castus. However, the Optio let it slide, favouring the thoughts of getting out into the wild to meet with Merlin. He bowed his head as he walked to the door, his head cocked as he listened to Arthur's orders. When he came to the door he turned to give Arthur a curt nod of his head, appearing to be the epitome of goodly Roman loyalty when deep inside he was determined to put an end to these ridiculous 'truces' that Arthur seemed intent on creating. He would not treat with the woads - he would threaten them. "Certainly, Commander." he intoned with oozing sincerity before turning and walking away. The door shut behind him and only then did a slow, cocky grin spread beneath his sharp nose. Amadeus' grey eyes brightened and he made a turn that was not leading him towards his own room to ready himself. Instead he sought out Mordred. A man to ride by his side - a man that he trusted. Not Captain Bloody Barbattus who was so far under ARthur's thumb it was hard to see where one man began and the other ended. Rapping his knuckles against Mordred's door, Amadeus waited for the man to call out before entering. He pushed open the door and the wicked grin was still in situ as he met Mordred's burning eyes. "Lord Mordred -- Arthur has put me at the head of a mission to treat with the woads," the scorn was obvious, "and I would like for you to accompany me." the Optio said, his face set in such a way that it was obvious that he had ill intentions. Galahad Challenged, Galahad would have declared that his answer to Lavinia's prying had not been over-reacting. Challenged, Galahad would deny that he was upset about anything other than the weather. He stood his ground looking young and petulant, wary of the looks upon him from Lavinia and even Gawain. He cast a cautious look up to his blonde friend and shrugged, dismissing his silent query. Jols came trundling in past them and Galahad was distracted enough by his own troubles not to realise that he had been allowed down to Dagonet - it was only when Gawain spoke up that the young knight gave a scoff of irritation --
The knight glanced up at Gawain with both suspicion and curiosity when he heard that Gawain had been in there drunk. And not only that he had been caught by Lavinia. Why had he been drunk in the infirmary? Didn't he spend the night with Brianna ... 'catching up'? That made Galahad's cheeks begin to burn as he thought about how little 'catching up' he and Alina had done. And now he couldn't help wonder why... He wasn't aware that Lavinia had addressed him, nor that he was under her intense scrutiny until Gawain looked at him, his brow creased in worry. Galahad's head whipped around, his blue eyes piercing as he looked at Lavinia and then back at Gawain. "What?" he murmured, looking slightly bewildered until he realised Lavinia had addressed him, specifically. "Oh - oh that? Yes she did tend to it. It's just a scratch in any case." he lied, waving his slender hand and then clamped it onto Gawain's elbow discreetly. "Uh - thanks. We'll be off then. Gawain?" Galahad said, wanting to get the knight to himself to find out why he had been drunk in the infirmary and yes, now that he thought about it, where was Brianna? |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 07:31 PM Post #11 |
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Author: SarmatianKnight Date: Mon Jun 02, 2008 12:05 pm Lucius Lucius was too taken aback of her statement being in Dagonet's bed to recognise the puzzled look Saoirse gave him. He knew that people not always waited with intimacies until they were married. He did not care, really because personally he had no doubt that a ring had nothing to do with deep and honest love. It was just not his cup of tea because he wanted (if ever) make things official and real and moralic and respectable. But while he had been sure to marry one day and have a family everything had changed during the last months. No, what shocked him was the place these two had chosen to share their love. The idea that Saoirse meant what she said, just sharing the bed with the injured man without anything going to happen, never popped up in his head. But what he caught was her grin. Her very wicked grin and he raised an eyebrow, finally getting the idea that he had been so wrong with his thoughts. Great. Again. Making a fool out of himself. He decided to ignore the fact and just let the embarrassing topic go. When he saw the woman's expression changed when she heard his full name he made a mental note to finally stop that behaviour. It was odd, now as he was nothing mroe than just a mere soldier, spending time with people who (mostly) had not ever left their home country, not even their village. Somehow she did not look all to happy when he offered to go and get her anything - or was that just his imagination, reading things into situations that were not existing? He just wanted to repeat his offer when she answered.
And this was certainly not the answer he had expected or he had hoped to get. Why not just a ordinary mug with water, a boring piece of clean cloth to wipe away the shed tears or a most missed comb to rearrange her wonderful red flames of hair. He was more than happy that she focused on the ceiling again as his expression went from caring to pure darkness when he found himself reminded of a past he wanted to forget. "No, unfortunately not." was all he answered in a more or less neutral tone but someone who listened carefully might have heard a hint of anger behind his words. While Saoirse looked up at the ceiling Lucius looked down and focused on the ground at his feet to make sure that she would not recognise his expression by chance. He could feel the coldness and the darkness welling up deep inside him and both, coldness and darkness, were very private and not meant for anyone else than Lucius himself.
The Roman was grateful for the distraction when Saoirse stood - but what a distraction it was. He struggled to get onto his feet as well to offer her a helping hand when he saw her body shaking. He offered her a smile. "No. No family." The answer came without hesitation. "A Roman cohort found me at their burnt down campfire in the morning. The Roman army is my family." he offered an explanation. It was a pure lie but who cared? It always worked and explained everything, and the things he did not want to tell. It was just perfect. And NOW was the perfect time to change the direction of the conversation. "What about you? I know... Dagonet. But you do not sound like being from Britain?" The fact that she had raised to her feet implied that she was ready to leave, at least to Lucius. So he opened the door for her and waited. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 07:32 PM Post #12 |
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Author: Unicorn Date: Mon Jun 02, 2008 1:56 pm Dagonet
Dagonet listened to the man as he knew that Jols had some certain information... close to Arthur and being around the place. The fortress had to be a busy and very dangeraus place now. Everybody should stand for alert now... Dagonet hated that he had to be here, in the infirmary, again helpless against the situation. Merlin had the perfect moment to attack the fort. Arthur and Sarmatians with most of the soldiers away on the battle mission. At the mention of capturing the two Woads... girls, he frowned slightly. Maybe they would provide some informations to end this confrontantion, but maybe not enough.
Dagonet nodded silently at this. Sure, the first knights should have more to say on the matter.
The information about what is happening with his horse and weapons were most welcome. As every Sarmatian Dagonet would take care of his horse and weapons himself.... As every Sarmatian knew the importance of those things. He would like to do it himself, but right now he could not do it... And was very thankful to Jols for being there to take the matters in his own hands... For remembering of this. "Thank you, Jols. Once more you saved my knightship..." Last time he was injured he lost his axe on the battlefield... only to find out later that Jols took it and took good care of it, then brought back to the place where it should be. "I don't know what we would do without you around." he was not joking, his face serious and very straight. He meant it. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 07:34 PM Post #13 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Mon Jun 02, 2008 2:38 pm Catherine Catherine sat at the kitchen table in her mother's house with the coins from Tristan on the table, the coin from Carthage clutched in her palm. Her damp hair was plaited prettily, hanging down the back of her slender neck and her off-white bodice looked gleaming on her now clean body. She hadn't felt that unclean after being with Tristan, their coupling having been so quick, but obsessive about her hygiene, Catherine had bathed nonetheless. It was only now that she had tipped out the coins that she realised he had put that other coin in... a flare of embarrassment had led to this current state of feeling ill over it. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate the coin - but the fact that she had deliberately left it and he had most deliberately put it into her pouch seemed... well, insistent. Licking her lips, the woman placed the extra coin to one side and pushed the rest into a jar that she placed up onto the mantlepiece. Arland stood with a curious look on his face, a darkness in his eyes that was his habit when he knew that his true love had just had sold her body. Catherine was used to these looks - she was used to his jealousy, used to his distaste for what she did. She was also used to how it made him look so dejected, rejected and useless because he could not offer her anything that she wanted in life. "Why is it such a big deal, Kitty?" he asked again, his tone barely patient. "Because it is far too much money, Arland. For what ... transpired it is a ridiculous amount." Catherine said, turning to look at him before throwing up her hand into the air in exasperation with his inability to understand why this was discomfiting for her. "Oh nevermind." "Why'd you have that out?" he asked, gestuing with a jut of his chin to the Carthage coin. Catherine's eyes lingered on the coin for a long time, her face softening and her finger stroking along the edge of the table. She stood and smoothed a hand down her layered skirt, shrugging her shoulder. She was remembering Gawain, remembering the thrill of speaking her mind and not speaking someone else's fantasy. She shrugged. Arland tsked, turning away from her. Catherine rolled her hazy green eyes and walked up behind him, sliding her hands about his waist and laid her head in between his shoulder blades. "Don't be angry with me Arland." she murmured and felt the man practically melt within her embrace. She stepped away and donned her cloak, twitched up the hood and readied to go back out to work. It was still early afternoon - more men would be about looking for what she could provide. Catherine pushed open the door of the tavern, keeping her hood up until she was well inside for fear of catching a cold. She let it fall down her back and took a cursory look about the tavern, observing who was there and who was not, looking for familiar faces, looking for new faces. She got a disparaging look from one of the wenches who was just walking back to the bar, her heaving breasts almost falling out of the bodice. Catherine rolled her green eyes at the display. Did the woman not realise that the seduction was in the way you moved and not with the amount of bosom you could hang out of a top? Her own bodice was properly fitted about her slim body, pushing her breasts upwards but not over! There was an enticing swell with every breath she took, something she could monitor to swell more should she catch the eye of someone. And it looked like she already had... Catherine's half-smile was beautiful. She turned away from the man looking at her and took a step towards the bar before pausing, looking over her shoulder at him and smiled. Biting her bottom lip, Catherine moved to the side a little and then turned, her hips swaying side to side as she walked over to the table where the soldier was sitting eating heartily. She placed her elbow on the table and rested her cheek against her palm. She smiled. "Something on your mind?" she purred seductively, shrugging aside all her ill-thoughts of earlier regarding her lifestyle. Mari Was her innocence a good or bad thing? Mari did not recognise danger. She would recognise evil in Mordred because of what he had done to her, but she had not learned to distrust people until they had proven their worth. It seemed Milan was to be her saving grace in this matter, his presence protecting her from the harsh treatment the woad had had in mind for her. The young woman followed Milan willingly at first, then hesitant as he removed her cloak in the baths. He looked upset... he looked... worried. Mari's smile faded slowly and she remained still as he put her cloak aside, draping a towel over her wet hair to try dry it a little. He looked so preoccuppied - Mari frowned and wondered what she had done to upset him. He stroked the line of her jaw and her eyes fluttered shut in pleasure, her expression remaining pensive until his hand stilled. Her eyes opened and she was staring right into the warm, loving depths of his blue eyes. "What?" she whispered, lifting her bandaged hand and laying it gently against his wrist, her slim fingers curling about his arm softly before sliding it up a little ways on his forearm. His muscles were tense, the sinews strained against his pale skin. Mari shook her head, stepping forward, bowing her head and lifted his other hand up to her lips. She kissed his knuckles and then nuzzled her cheek against his palm. "You look like you've seen a ghost." |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 07:36 PM Post #14 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Mon Jun 02, 2008 3:56 pm Mona
Mona viciously snatched her hand from Guinevere and gnashed her teeth, her blue eyes flashing. “Princess need I remind you that I am one of your finest warriors, trained by you, yourself? I am quite sure that I’m up to the challenge at hand or Merlin would never have ordered me to come with you.” The woad warrior fought to keep the sarcasm and pure hatred she felt for Guinevere at that moment out of her voice. Mona jerked around to give Ash a tongue lashing as well, but he’d already scurried off to another vantage point. She would gladly deal with him later. She rolled her eyes back around to face Guinevere. “I will shadow you as you make your way through the commons toward the stables and hopefully take out anyone who threatens to interfere,” Mona lied. She hoped Guinevere would be recognized and murdered on the spot, saving Mona from having to do it herself. Oh how she hated this woman who was not befitting to call herself Merlin’s daughter. Once again adjusting her packs, Mona separated from Guinevere and rushed behind the shelter of the next building. Titrus Titrus saw her when she walked through the tavern doors. He was eating his soup but stopped with the spoon halfway to his mouth. She was beautiful. Of course he’d seen her before and he knew who she was. His manhood twitched in his pants just from looking at her. The lieutenant placed the spoon in his mouth but suddenly lost all interest in the soup and his hunger. The woman’s blond hair and soft features made her look sweet and innocent. She looked….classy… much like a woman a man would die trying to protect. Titrus shook his head, wondering why such a lovely creature needed to sell her body when she could have any man she wanted. He watched her as she sat down at the bar. He couldn’t stop staring at her – the way her hair fell down her back, the glow that seemed to be about her - that was until she turned around and looked right at him staring at her. Embarrassed, Titrus looked away quickly, suddenly captivated by the vegetables lying in the bottom of his soup bowl. When he looked up again, she was headed his way. He got so nervous, his erection deflated immediately. She was coming his way! God in heaven, what would he say, ‘let’s fuck?’ He shuddered at the very thought. It hardly seemed appropriate to say something so brazen and it certainly was not his style at all. The woman had made her way over to his table. Titrus looked over his shoulder, then back at the beauty, making sure she was looking at him.
Oh my God! Titrus yelled in his head. He felt his cheeks burn with the heat of his embarrassment. He looked up at the woman, only glancing at her really, then darting his eyes about the tavern nervously. “Uh, not really,” he said, still not able to make eye contact with her. He felt like a stupid little boy. This woman is a whore!! Pull yourself together, man!! the voice in his head screamed. Titrus adjusted himself on the long bench and cleared his throat. Taking a deep breath, he finally locked eyes with her. But immediately his gaze fell away to a spot which was exactly in the middle of her two perfect breasts. Titrus was momentarily afraid that he was drooling. The lieutenant sat there for a moment, mesmerized at the swell of her breasts, staring as the creamy mounds moved up and down with her breathing. His groin clenched again and his balls swelled. The woman had a small mole on her right mound. Titrus thought it was cutest thing he’d ever seen. Raising his blues eyes once again to meet her green hazy gaze, he managed to speak. “I was…uh…just having lunch. Uh…can I…uh…buy you a drink?” he stammered like a fool while at the same time waving for the barmaid to come back. “What would you like, my lady?” |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 24 2010, 07:53 PM Post #15 |
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Author: linnet Date: Mon Jun 02, 2008 7:26 pm Gawain Gawain didn’t miss Galahad’s ears pricking up when Lavinia referred to his being drunk. The blond knight had thought it a perfectly sensible way to prepare himself to face the ordeal of getting treated at the infirmary. He suspected that Galahad was reading some scandalous, or at least gossip worthy, significance into it. Gawain returned his friend’s surprised curious look by raising his hand to signal stop, and frowning slightly toward Galahad. He hoped the younger knight would back off the issue for now. When Galahad’s expression changed from curious to flushed as if embarrassed, Gawain feared that his dismissive gesture had bothered his friend. Clearly the two of them needed to sit down and get things off their minds.
Gawain shook his head slowly while looking sternly at Galahad. The hole in his midsection wasn’t just a scratch. If he was lying to Lavinia about how bad it was, he could also be lying about Alina having taken care of it. The long-haired knight let himself be pulled backwards by the elbow toward the door. Galahad was understandably anxious to get away from Lavinia’s nosy questions about Alina. And Gawain had no reason to linger if they couldn’t see Dag. The nun said nothing more, just stood her ground intent on making sure they actually left. “It’s been a pleasure, as always, Lavinia,” he said in his most charming voice, still facing the old woman, as he moved away from her. Once again, his best disarming smile seemed to have no effect on the nun. Once outside, Gawain halted them both in the sliver of shelter provided by the infirmary’s roof overhang. “Listen,” he said, then took a deep breath and looked out toward the street, away from his friend. “I need to tell you something, and I could use a drink first. Come with me to the tavern?” He looked back toward Galahad, knowing his concerned expression would only irritate the younger man who had seen it so often. “Tell me the truth,” he said. “Is that wound going to be alright?” |
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