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| June 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 23 2010, 07:18 PM (3,701 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | Mar 28 2010, 12:55 AM Post #136 |
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Author: linnet Date: Sat Jun 14, 2008 1:45 pm Mother Lavinia
Lavinia wasn’t about to be influenced by this ruffian’s feeble attempt to charm her, any more than she had with the hairy one. She knew she wasn’t a sweet lady, so it was no use for them to pretend to believe she was. Her dour expression didn’t change as she waited to hear what he’d come up with next, before she sent him away.
The old nun actually had to suppress a laugh. She was well aware that he was Lancelot. She knew all the irksome Sarmatians by name. She just preferred to think of them in more graphic terms – easier to remember at her age too. This one certainly was the Sarmatian, at least in his own opinion. Lavinia warmed to the idea of a little verbal sparring with the man. He measured up well to her high standards of fast thinking and cynicism. “And I would be remiss in shirking my responsibilities to insure my patients the quiet and rest they need to heal. You may be the wet Sarmatian, but you still have to meet the approval of the servant of God. That would be me,” Lavinia parried, then waited for his next thrust. Sadly he didn’t seem in the mood to keep up the exchange, and shifted tactics.
Well, that settled it. Artorius Castus was the only authority Lavinia respected in this human dumping ground. Such a fine Christian fellow. A brave and morally impeccable Roman. It was a shame he had to spend so much time with the uncouth Sarmatians. But the nun had faith that Castus was steadfast and devoted to God strongly enough to avoid being corrupted by example. “Well why didn’t you say so?” she demanded as she turned and beckoned for Lancelot to follow her toward Dagonet and his expanding retinue. “How is the Commander doing?” she asked with genuine concern. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 28 2010, 12:56 AM Post #137 |
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Author: Darya Date: Sun Jun 15, 2008 2:07 am Neeve
A slight frown of concentration creased Neeve’s brow and she blinked a few times as she tried to focus on all Vanora was saying. By the Gods, she had forgotten just how much the redhead could talk… That wasn’t a bad thing of course…and certainly came in handy when the tavern was where you work…but since Neeve was not exactly a woman of many words, it was not easy for her to keep up with Vanora. However, the healer managed to filter the most important information out of all the words and was relieved to hear that she would get Arthur his soup and some bread…and that she could also allow herself to fill up her empty stomach. Good. Then Vanora also said something about a hunting carpenter and said carpenter’s apparently now dead wife to be. The frown on the Briton’s brow deepened. She had no real idea of who those two persons might be… The healer did, however, recall a dead blonde woman in the infirmary. The corpse had been brought there by the guy (Mirtha) who had accompanied Ione, Darya and Isolde that night. Maybe that was the woman? Neeve cleared her throat once Vanora had fallen silent. “Well, I don’t think I know this Adian…or this Thorn for that matter…and the Woad attacks have brought death to several people at Badon… Was the woman…was she a blonde? There was one in the infirmary the other night but I have no idea where the body is now…”, the raven-haired woman finally replied and grimaced slightly as she was sure that this was not what Vanora wanted to hear, “…and…ah…I certainly don’t want to pillage your kitchen…so…” Neeve paused and blew a strand of black hair out of her face. “So…a small bowl of soup should do for me…and a bigger one with some bread for my patient if that is possible…”, the healer added and a corner of her mouth twitched slightly as she attempted another smile. Something that still did not come to her naturally. “And…how is Bors?”, she then asked, not only because she at least tried to be a bit conversational but also because she had not seen the burly knight since the men had returned from the battle against the Saxons and she honestly cared for each of their well-beings…which, of course, included Bors… |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 28 2010, 12:57 AM Post #138 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Sun Jun 15, 2008 7:49 am Derfel Derfel could not help the concern in his blue eyes as Saoirse met his gaze. Her expression seemed filled with emotions that might possibly give way to tears at any moment. She mouthed what Derfel thought to be a ‘thank you’ before turning away from his gaze again. Derfel’s frown of concern grew deeper and he briefly glanced over at Lucius. Had something changed in Dagonet’s condition since he’d stepped away to have the red head so upset? Or was the young knight completely misreading her? In truth, Derfel did not know Saoirse that well at all really. The small child’s presence seemed to distract them all, if only briefly, from the heavier mood that seemed to hang over the room like a thick blanket. Once again, Derfel offered the little girl a smile until he heard Saoirse’s voice. The smile still lingered on Derfel’s expression as he looked to the red head again.
“Alright then…I’m sure these two need their rest,” Derfel answered with a nod to both Dagonet and Bors. He had thought to add that Saoirse should send for him if she needed anything later, but thought it best to let it go. Dagonet knew he could count on the young knight for anything and that was enough. And certainly Dagonet would urge Saoirse to rest herself. No doubt Linnesse would be awake soon and Derfel did wish to get back to his love as well. Derfel turned to Lucius with the intention of suggesting they head on to the tavern when he heard Lavinia’s voice from behind. The young knight glanced in the direction of her voice to see Lancelot approaching as well. What in Bel’s name was the First Knight doing in the infirmary? Derfel knew how much the dark knight hated the place and he couldn’t recall Lancelot suffering an injury…and he was on his feet instead of being bound and dragged into the place. Was it Arthur?? Derfel prayed to the gods it was not and since the Sarmatian was not barking orders or in any sort of rush…surely he should not be alarmed. But curiosity certainly held Derfel in place while they approached. He’d head off to the tavern ‘after’ he saw what Lancelot was up to. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 28 2010, 12:59 AM Post #139 |
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Author: TwistOfShadows Date: Sun Jun 15, 2008 9:04 am Ceinwyn An air of defeat? Oh truly, it haunted her like a thousand hellish spirits. Ceinwyn had witnessed enough to justify despair, and she did not hide it. The woman’s deep green eyes had adopted a passionate luster, and it gleamed with cruel intent. Her young skin was mottled blue with war-paint and bruising, and her lips were dry and cracked. Ceinwyn’s long red hair had once been thick with life and coltish spirit, but now it was matted, knotted and sticky with mud and blood. She was a horrific sight, but the woman cared not. She felt the burning loss of her soul, and her rationality had died during the war. She sought vengeance, she yearned for it. As she walked alongside Merlin, she drew strength from him. His presence gave her courage, but it also reminded her of a great loss. Was she a fool to dwell upon it? Ceinwyn wanted to force the guilt from her mind, but she could not. It surrounded her, drowning her. The woman stopped alongside the marching Woads, listening to the woodland. A gust of wind hissed through the trees, shaking the branches and leaves. Her dark eyes softened slightly.
Merlin reached out and touched her shoulder, but the woman did not move, did not respond. His touch upon her was comforting, and Ceinwyn turned slowly to look at him. Her eyes looked to his hand upon her skin, and then to his face, searching. The woman did not know human touch, human contact, and it took her offguard. She trusted no-one truly, but Merlin’s attention gave her confidence. She breathed a shallow breath, and turned back to the marching Woads. The Romans were not destined to remain alive, and the Woads would ensure they died hard and fast. Oh, but Ceinwyn did not pray to the Gods for anything…she believed Neeria and Eala must find their own courage and strength. They must prove their worth, however hypocritical it may sound. If Neeria was truly a traitor, then she would die. Ceinwyn had been treacherous in body, but not in mind…Neeria would be punished harsher….
Ceinwyn followed obediently, without question. She did not wish to visit the village, she wished to remain alone…but the Woad would obey. For now. She fell into step beside Merlin, and her hand moved to the hilt of her dagger. Amongst her brethren, Ceinwyn appeared strong. Her chin lifted defiantly, deliberately avoiding conversation with anyone else. The Woad lacked the talent for friendship; it did not suit her impulsive nature. She was a woman destined to live alone and in solitude. Company made her cautious, on edge, even with her own people. Perhaps this proclivity for loneliness made her stronger? She believed so. Ceinwyn also believed that she would prove her worth, despite orders and convention. She was prepared to risk all… “I shall draw strength from your words then,” she spoke quietly, and inclined her head in respect to the elder Woad. Her voice lacked its youthful luster, but Ceinwyn did not appear weakened. She walked strongly with the army, her slim legs and feet pressing onwards towards their destination. Ceinwyn trusted Merlin, and she would go to the village. She would draw strength from her brethren…and then once again, be overwhelmed by her desire to be alone. She was stronger then, and her mind was clearer. The cold wind bit against her discoloured cheeks, and she sighed, deeply… Now was not the time to press further… |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 28 2010, 01:00 AM Post #140 |
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Author: Unicorn Date: Sun Jun 15, 2008 1:17 pm Dagonet Saoirse was finally by his side... with him... holding his hand, looking down at him. It was good to feel her and to see her face. But her eyes gave him a short apology... still wet from possibly tears. Why was she crying? Something happened? Dagonet once more frowned at her, but did not ask the question. He would not do something like that in front of others. Gods! How he wished to be somewhere else than infirmary. He was too weak to leave the place.. .he knew that... but even so he would take any possible chance to leave.
Dagonet looked at Derfel and slowly nodded his head. It was good to know that the young knight was taking care of Linnette, while Sarmatian was not able to do so. He once more regretted that he could not be there for Linnette in any way. And once more his mind went to that terrible moment when Arthur told him about Gedeon's fall... when Dagonet himself told Linnette about it. Those memories will stay with him till the end of his days.
Her voice was husky... heavy with emotions. Gods... she was hurted! But about what? About Dagonet's state? About Gedeon's death? About what? If he could, Dagonet would take her in his arms and hide themselfs from the rest of the world. They would just talk freely... He would tell her how much he love her.. and how much his heart is in pain... They would seek comfort in each others warmth. He wished to wash away all of their pain and be once more happy... He wished to smile... He wished to get over the heartache and be himself. But they were long after being ok... being themselfs... Everything gave them pain and they could not be the same as before.. .never again. It was a painful truth. He looked back at her and squeezed weakly her hip in assurence. He felt that he could sleep again... that his weakness was overwhelming him once more. Sarmatian closed his eyes briefly and oppened once more before looking at his lover and giving her a grimace, which he wished it would be a smile.
With that Dagonet looked at sleeping Bors and a ghost of smirk passed his face. Bors was tough but it would seem the liquid Lavinia gave him was strong enough to knock him out. His head turned back and his sight once more went to the young girl near. What was she doing here? Did she wanted anything? He wanted to smile at her but nothing changed his grim expression. It was too soon to smile... He attempted that with Jols but it went just bad. He had no strenghts and will to be happy, not so soon. There was some commotions and DAgonet looked in the direction Derfel had and saw coming his way Lavinia... Firstly he thought that she was coming to trow his friends from the infirmary to allow him his rest. But he noticed Lancelot behind her... He liked the man, even if he was not the most modest and kind of all people... but they had safed each others lifes more than once. They were brothers in arms... It was good to see him in a good shape. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 28 2010, 01:05 AM Post #141 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Sun Jun 15, 2008 3:08 pm Catherine
Catherine tilted her head at his insistence, a lovely, lazy smile upon her lips. She delighted in the touches of gentle men, revelled in their want to touch her perfect skin, to breathe in the heady fragrance of her. It made all her earlier efforts feel worth it. She listened with half an ear to what he said, giving a throaty but quiet moan as his tongue pressed against her pulse, causing goosebumps to rise over her pale skin. Hearing the final sentence of his admission made Catherine's green eyes open slowly. She looked at the ceiling, absorbing the information, processing it. She never used such things against a man, oh never that, but sometimes she might use such things as leverage to get what she wanted.
The whore looked up at Titrus, diverting her far-away eyes from the ceiling to his face, taking in the gentle look about him. How was he such a soldier when he looked as if he would not hurt a lamb? The blonde's lips parted when he cupped her breast, her lovely white teeth visible as she held her breath, enjoying the feel of his fingers against the fabric of the dress. When she released the breath she was going to answer his question but the breath was caught in her throat as he clamped a hand to her backside, pulling her towards him. The blonde lifted one foot off the ground instinctively, hooking her heel into the back of his knee. The movement was not quite wanton but it hinted at it certainly. Catherine lifted her free hand and placed it on the man's neck, feeling the heat building beneath his skin, the bristly hair of his beard brushing her palm. She arched her back and bit her bottom lip - assessing.... assessed. She was not going to take charge here at all. The hand pinned behind her back was evidence enough that Titrus wanted to be the one in charge, and Catherine was more than happy to allow this. Sinking back against the door, the blonde nodded her head to his question - "Yes - kiss me." she whispered, leaning her face in towards his but not touching his lips, leaving the moment to him as her hand slid down his chest and gave a gentle tug to his tunic. "Anything." the whore told him, letting him know that she was his in her entire bodily perfection until he wanted otherwise. The soft breath that slipped past her parted lips was hot, her words a little crackly from desire as she waited for his touch. If she had it right then she thought that once he took control that there would be little for her to do except lie back and enjoy it - something that made her smile in anticipation. Amadeus The Optio's features appeared more sharp and cruel as he looked at Tristan with the woad in front of him on the horse, their bodies so close as to be indecent. With an irritated, disgusted tsk, the man looked away, glancing across the terrain without emotion. There was a silly part of Amadeus that made him think, for some reason, that he could not be killed. He didn't fear the woads attacking. Why should he? They would know better than to attack a Scipio!
There was alot to be said for the communications between Amadeus and Mordred. They were not childhood friends nor had they fought together at any stage, yet their common need and want to destroy Castus seemed to have created a bond, an understanding between them. The Optio gave no sign of recognition that the other noble had slipped behind, riding with Barbattus and Tristan whilst he led the way. As was right.
And again Amadeus did not involve himself in the 'witty' banter of those behind him, those beneath him. He gave a chill look over his shoulder and sniffed, glancing at the woad with a distasteful sneer before looking back ahead. "She had better be telling the truth, gentlemen. If I discover a lie in her words she will not live long enough to scream in pain." the man said in a cold voice, looking back at Tristan above the woman's head, then over towards Barbattus - "I am not as patient nor merciful as Arthur Castus by any stretch of the imagination. One wrong move, one wrong word, one whiff of something foul and you will regret the day your whore of a mother ever set eyes on your father." the man said without emotion, the cold, frosty words ringing sincere with impending doom in the soggy surroundings, the rain easing off to a mere drizzle. Tensing his jaw, Amadeus looked ahead again and headed the group towards the black rocks, his back straight, his grey eyes set forward. Drake What had he done that made her giggle like that?! Drake watched the light in her hazel eyes increase, the embarrassed flush leave her cheeks and a more satisfied, healthy glow took it's place instead. The Spaniard replayed what had been said and done in his brain in a vain effort to understand why she had laughed and how he could replicate the situation in the future...
And now the total opposite! Drake watched in horror as her eyes filled up with tears. He could see the tension in her lovely neck as she tried to hold back the gush of sadness that he had, inadvertently, caused. He remained very still, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, lips parted as if he were to speak but nothing came to mind. Why was she crying now?! He was not so blind or dumb to women that he thought he had said something to upset her, that he had said the wrong thing, but he was not so savvy with them that he knew precisely what was bringing about this change her nature. They didn't look like tears of happiness and yet they were not despair either.
Her appreciative hazel eyes were on him, distracting him from the fact that her hand was inching towards his. Drake saw movement and glanced down, watching her pale fingers, feeling like his heart had suddenly leapt into his throat, he held his breath, waiting for that contact that would ensnare him for ever more, but it didn't come. He was so busy looking at her hand inching towards his that Drake had no noticed someone else coming into the tavern. It was only when Linnesse cried out to her sister and came across the room embracing her that the Spaniard released the breath he had been holding and snatched his hand from teh counter top, placing it flat against his thigh, the muscles in his arm so tight they looked like they might pop. Drake tensed his jaw, uncomfortable, awkward, looking away from the embracing sisters, staring at a point behind the counter. He glanced to the side and saw Linnette peering at him from above her sister's shoulder. He looked away but was at a loss to find any strength vivacious enough to prevent his green eyes swivelling to hers once more. And when they did he saw her smile. It drained the tension from his body. Drake's shoulders sagged and he let out a slow, long breath, giving the red-head a half smile. He turned back to the counter properly then, using the chunk of bread to wipe around the inside of the bowl whilst the two sisters reacquainted themselves with each other. He remained a silent presence behind them both. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 28 2010, 01:08 AM Post #142 |
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Author: TwistOfShadows Date: Sun Jun 15, 2008 4:01 pm Eyla The flames of the fire licked against the stone fireplace, sending shadows dancing along the ancient walls. They blessed Eyla’s skin with a darker luster, and coloured her eyes liquid black. Her brown hair appeared alive, twisting and twirling as the curls fell from her neck…and her golden bangle sparkled in the firelight. The woman’s dress had been pulled up to her thighs, exposing a smooth and silken leg as she leant over the Roman Commander. Oh, such a perfect picture of paradise! Eyla was no conventional beauty, she was foreign and exotic…and her mind was alive with promises of seduction and pleasure. Did the woman have a conscience? No, and no again. Artorius Castus was the only man that did not fall prey to her charms, to her beauty, but she hoped he would. Christians were always more fun. Eyla fancied herself the perfect angel, beckoning men into Damnation with open legs. And why not? Life was too short for the boundaries of religion…and too fun. Oh always fun. Eyla had lived a lifetime already, and experiences did never end. Not really. Not in her choice of career. Artorius represented intrigue, the unknown, because Eyla did not know him well. She could play all men. She knew their wants, their desires, and she knew how to manipulate the senses to her own gains…but Artorius? It was not so simple at all. As her slim finger traced the dewy crevices of his muscular chest, he did not rebuke her for it. No, he allowed it to happen, and it was a small achievement. Her eyes danced wickedly, in celebration…but how far could she push it? Truly? This man had morals…unfortunately… But surely he had desires? And what were they?
Oh, but she was thoughtful! Did he not realize? Eyla lived for these games, and she put her heart and soul into them. When patrons paid well, she did everything in her power to be memorable, to be the best…and she was. The woman was beautiful, and she had the body of a goddess. Was that not thoughtful and kind of her? Eyla parted her lips to respond, but paused when he grimaced. A tiny frown creased her pretty features, and she glanced down as he pressed a hand to his injured side. So this was the cause of his discomfort? Careless Romans and their wounds…tsk.
The Roman pushed her hand away, and Eyla feigned disappointment. She pouted her lips sulkily, and looked at him pleadingly. Gods, why was he so boring? Indeed, it would be easier to just give in and have her. But then…Eyla loved the game, she lived for it. Artorius believed that she would grow bored, perhaps? Impossible. Eyla quite liked the thrill of the chase, it made things interesting. The woman wanted to yearn, wanted to lust with every part of her slender and beautiful body…because then the release would be sweeter. The woman breathed a shallow breath from her sullen and pouted lips, and then…laughed. Loudly, clearly. She threw her head backwards and her dark hair cascaded down her back. The woman would not be dismissed so easily, and she liked this game, she enjoyed his sudden attack of conscience. Did God tell him that Eyla was Sin? Oh, she hoped so… “As you wish…Artorius…” She whispered. Eyla slipped her naked knee from his bed, and felt her skirts cover her tanned ankles. The woman stood before him, and made a curtsy. It was a sweet thing, an amusing show of obedience and servitude…and yet, Eyla made it a complete mockery. She bowed her chin respectfully, but looked up at him through her curly hair. Her eyes spoke volumes for flirtation. Dark lashes, sparkling eyes…Oh, but she looked a picture! Turning slightly, she took the mug carefully in her hands. Careful not to spill it. “Indeed, suitors are a-plenty in this God-forsaken place, but none are as demanding and handsome as you….” She paused, dabbing a single finger into the mug. The water was warm, and Eyla bought her wet finger to her lips. She sucked the water gently from her skin, and cocked her head to the side. She regarded the Roman, and did not immediately hand over the water. Her expression was innocent, child-like. She spoke again, a slight smile on her lips. “I was quite concerned for your wellbeing when I came in, Artorius. Normally I would simply rob the man and be done with it…but you?” She breathed a laugh. “I think you seek to inspire my conscience into action, when most men celebrate my lack of hesitation…and shameless behaviour…” She held the mug out to him, winking one eye. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 28 2010, 01:09 AM Post #143 |
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Author: Lancelot Date: Sun Jun 15, 2008 7:25 pm Lancelot Lancelot gazed at the nun, realizing she had the type of spunk for him to actually have an interesting conversation with. Unfortunately for her, she'd have to miss that particular pleasure, as Lancelot really just wanted to see to Dags and get the fuck out of the infirmary. He tried to quell the slight tremoring in his hands - fuck it, it was the chill from the rain - by gripping harder at his blades.
Lancelot smiled toothily, despite his hatred of this place and his exhaustion and true worry at the thought again of Arthur. As he followed the nun, he was however happy to see Dagonet seemed to be awake, and surrounded by a few members of Arthur's Table and the red-head woman that was Dagonet's lover. Lancelot twisted his mouth and debated just how much to tell the nun in response to her question about Arthur - the commander wouldn't want others to think he was weak or badly injured, no matter the severity of his wound. He tossed his head and tried to act nonchalant as he answered. "He is abed, and being cared for by one of yours, Neeve. He runs no fever, and should be back on his very large and capable feet as soon as he can, I'd wager. In the meantime, you may use me as your liason to him should you need one, the servant of 'God.'" He couldn't help but cock a damp eyebrow and allow his lips to curve gracefully - which dropped as he caught sight of just who exactly was with Dagonet as they arrived at his bedside. "Derfel." If sarcasm could be seen, then the speaking of the knight's name as it was torn from the Sarmatian's lips would have shown as black and icy. Lancelot didn't hate the other man - he thought - but he was a Saxon, and the son of the enemy that had almost brought down Lancelot's commander and closest friend. and someone I love. He tilted his head and looked at the other man. "What do you here, knight? Shouldn't you be seeing to your woman and her sister?" His gaze passed from Derfel to the man next to him - a man he'd never seen (Lucius) and then on to Dagonet and Saoirse. He turned briefly to the nun, and took up her hand, his charm coming off him in reeking waves. No matter his state of mind, or the fact that he knew he was being false. Who cared? "Sister, thank you for allowing me to pass - and trust me, your services to the commander will not go unnoticed. Also trust me when I say I will not tarry long here nor bother your patients. I am in your debt." He stopped short of kissing her hand; even Lancelot knew when certain ladies had their limits. He smiled prettily and turned his back to her - effectively dismissing her. Lancelot had achieved his goal, and when he did not need the tools of said achieving, he was quick to forget them, just like a child with more than one toy. Pity that he did not realize his loss in this behavior. "Dags," he said, moving closer to the bed. "Saoirse. I'm sure Arthur would appreciate you taking care of our man here." This time there was no sarcasm in his tone; Lancelot was also appreciative that the large knight had such good family about him. He'd need it. "Arthur sends his greetings and thanks, old man," he flashed his teeth at Dagonet. "How do you fare?" |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 28 2010, 01:11 AM Post #144 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Sun Jun 15, 2008 8:37 pm Vanora She did have to admit that she talked a lot, but she felt that what she said may, or may not be informative to others. The tavern, to her, was to talk of events and trade information if necessary. One piece of information, that of the whereabouts of Thorn's body, she felt could ease Adian's mind....or at least she hoped it would. The sound of Neeve clearing her throat brought Vanora out of her thoughts...
Vanora's eyebrow raised in hopefulness, though the news of so many lost was, as always, not a good thing to hear what with all of the other tragic things that had happened today so far. "Yes, she had wheat colored hair....slightly taller than myself..." Vanora stopped before she went too far as Neeve, nor she guessed, anyone else, did not know where the body had been taken. No doubt to a massive burial pit, though such a brave soul as Thorn deserved something better....
Seeing a wench standing next to her, Vanora nodded to the young woman to go and fetch the order straight away telling the wench to make sure there were two big bowls and plenty of bread before the wench disappeared through the doors, and Vanora turned back to Neeve, "Your meals should be up in no time, Neeve." At the mention of Bors' name though, Vanora began to worry. She had only seen him briefly before leaving the tavern. The red head moved to the side to draw another ale while addressing the young healer, "Haven't seen Bors but about a half hour when the group came back from battle....haven't seen him since. Suppose he is alright....had a nasty wound on his leg though. Perhaps he got smart and went to the infirmary...." Brendyn So far, in his duties, he had made a friend in the servant who was cleaning the latrines as well, had been pissed on the leg by a bratty little boy, had thrown up what he had not eaten....for that matter had had had nothing to eat since arriving at the fort the night before. Brendyn placed the bucket in its place, and looked about at how much cleaner it looked. He thought back to the chain of events that brought him a less than stellar impression on his new bosses.....and he thought it weird that he had not seen Arthur yet. His deep blue eyes looked up to a spot where he could see the gray rainy looking sky....Spring would be here soon. The way he looked right now, no woman would give a plug nickel to be seen with him. All because of two woads....the gentle loving care they had been given even though they lived to kill. He had been taught not to trust the enemy....no matter how young. The way the nun had coddled them and made them feel right at home...while he had been made to look like nothing less than the shit he cleaned up. Brendyn knew he could have just killed them as they deserved....so many innocent lives had been lost, and the woads never seemed to care...nor would they ever. Perhaps he had just seen the situation through his eyes....and in those he felt that he had acted properly. Had Antonius trained him wrong then where the enemy was concerned? Brendyn chuckled slightly and shook his head. There was so much he felt now that he needed to be retrained on... |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 28 2010, 01:12 AM Post #145 |
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Author: linnet Date: Sun Jun 15, 2008 8:43 pm Mother Lavinia
Lavinia gave a cursory snort. Out of all those words the only ones that were of any importance to her were that Artorius was not running a fever. She already was aware that he had requested Neeve to care for him, and that he had been injured badly enough to be laid up. The nun shot a puzzled frown at the knight when he referred to his Commander’s feet as very large. What a strange and disrespectful comment. But not surprising coming from Lancelot. Some liaison he would be, as if she would ever need one. She doubted he could convey a message as stated if his life depended on it. The words would be embellished, the content and the sender evaluated bruatlly as the message was delivered. As they arrived at the group gathered around Dagonet’s cot, Lavinia looked pointedly at Saoirse. The woman had not only disappeared from where she should have been, but it was obvious that she had been crying. The old woman understood that there was some attachment between the red-head and Dagonet, but still, one had to remain professional. She would have to have a talk with the young lady after things settled down. Lavinia had serious doubts that Saoirse was cut out to work in the infirmary. Besides Saoirse, Derfel and the soldier that Lavinia had previously shooed off were back. Bors was still in the next cot. And standing close by, gathering smiles, was the younger of the abandoned sisters. Lavinia thought back to recall the name that the older girl had called her sibling. The verbose knight exchanged some sarcasm-tinged words with Derfel before he turned his attention back to the nun.
Lavinia rolled her eyes heavenward. “You’re not in my debt – you’re in my infirmary. And I will trust you to stay no longer than needed, any of you,” she said sternly before adding “except Saoirse.” It was easy to see that Dagonet was still weak and in need of rest. She hoped the others had enough sense to realize that. and find some other place to congregate. As for her, seeing the little girl reminded her that she had important business to take care of. “Come with me, Fleur,” she said, raising her voice enough so that the child would hear her over the distraction of the others, but trying not to sound threatening. Lavinia turned and took a few steps away from the gathering, then hesitated and looked back to see if Fleur was coming along. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 28 2010, 01:17 AM Post #146 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Sun Jun 15, 2008 9:01 pm Merlin
“I am glad to hear it,” responded Merlin easily, but as they joined the column, he kept watching Ceinwyn surreptitiously out of the corner of his eye. Not a thing escaped his notice- not the dullness in her eyes, the mechanical quality of her movements, the hand on her dagger hilt that seemed to indicate some unease. All was not right with her- though Merlin did not know what she would do, or how else this “not-right”ness would manifest itself. Watchful caution was called for here. After a few moments of walking, Merlin dropped back to several paces behind Ceinwyn, drawing even once more with Juna, who he had been walking near when he had first veered off to investigate the strange figure sitting under the tree. He said nothing, but shot Juna a rather dark look, accompanied by a nod towards Ceinwyn- he didn’t want to discuss it in the middle of all these people, but he wanted to let Juna know that there all was not quite right. Tristan
Tristan let the talk float over his head as they rode on; all his thoughts were on the woman’s directions, the woman herself, to see that she did not attempt escape or anything else, and of course the surroundings. The other three could speculate and wonder and threaten all they wanted to- but the only things that really mattered where what actually happened, and that was what Tristan was much more prepared to deal with anyway. His whole body was tense with alertness, his ears pricked for the slightest untoward noise, his eyes for the merest glimpse of a sign of human presence- but aside from the damnable babbling of the Romans in his own party, there was nothing. No Woads in these woods at all, as far as he could tell- and that was a worrisome sign, when Neeria purported to be leading them towards the main camp. Worry pricked at the corners of his consciousness, and he looked over towards the Optio as they rode past the divide in the trees that Neeria had described. They should be very close now. “No scouts here. Sir.” He informed the Optio tersely of the absence of the Woads he would have expected to nearly surround them in the trees by now. He kept a portion of his brain focused on the reactions of Neeria, hoping that she would give away some reaction to what was- or wasn’t- happening- but so far he could discern nothing that helped him figure out her purpose. She was nervous, but she had been that ever since she had gotten within ten feet of a horse. It could mean anything or nothing. Linnette and Linnesse “Are you all right?” Oblivious to anything that had just passed between Linnette and Drake, Linnesse broke the embrace, stepping backwards with her hands still on Linnette’s shoulders, looking searchingly into her sister’s eyes. Linnette summoned a reassuring half-smile- though it came with a resigned sigh- as she started to explain the room situation to Linnesse- noting out of the corner of her eye that Drake was now downing the last of his soup and bread, apparently not disposed to be directly involved in the conversation for now, though Linnette could tell that he was listening. She was glad he was still there- albeit silently. “Apparently I can’t stay in my old room anymore. It’s needed for soldiers. Amadeus said so.” She sighed exasperatedly, the volume of her voice growing a little as she vented her frustration with the situation. “However, for some reason I can’t understand, there’s a two-room apartment in the knights’ quarters I could have, but only if I find someone to share it with. It makes no sense- why not just give the two-room to the soldiers who need it so much? And I don’t have anyone to share with!” She tightened her fist on that last phrase, preparatory to hitting it against her other hand as she often did when angry or frustrated- and was given a sharp reminder, in the form of pain, that both her hands were injured. She winced and inhaled sharply in reaction, but then quickly composed herself and dismissed Linnesse’s worried look towards her bandaged hands with a quick gesture. She would tell Linnesse later- but she didn’t want to get into that now. She exhaled again in utter exasperation, then realized belatedly that Linnesse was still standing- and she really shouldn’t be. “Here, sit down, Linnesse. How are you feeling?” She slid off her own stool as she said it and gestured her sister towards it. It was the only place to sit right where they were- she had taken the stool at the end of the bar, and the one next to it was currently occupied by Drake. It didn’t matter, though- she’d almost rather stand, now that she was keyed up again. “I’m fine, really…I had a long nap.” Linnesse looked for a moment like she would refuse the proffered stool, but Linnette gestured more insistently, and took a step back, towards Drake instead, showing that she had no claim on the chair- and Linnesse sat down then, indicating to Linnette that perhaps she was more tired than she was willing to admit. “I’m not going to have you falling over again- let me get you some food.” Linnette said firmly- and Linnesse made no sign of protesting over that, either. As the red-haired sister disappeared into the kitchen, Linnesse, perched on the stool, looked over towards Drake and gave him a faint, curious smile. She really wasn’t sure what he was doing here- was it only coincidence that he happened to be eating his lunch here at the same time that Linnette was, or had he walked her here after Arthur’s and just stayed? Or something in between? Not knowing the situation, Linnesse wasn’t sure what to say to him; she cleared her throat indecisively and finally decided on the most bland, socially correct comment possible- something about the weather. “Well- thank goodness the rain’s finally stopping,” she remarked brightly. Really, what she hoped for was that the man would comment on the reason for his presence without her having to get nosy and ask- but to indicate that would be to be, well…nosy. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 28 2010, 01:18 AM Post #147 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Mon Jun 16, 2008 8:11 am Mona Mona and Guinevere watched as Neeria rode out of the stables, through the commons, toward the fortress gates. Mona was stunned by what she saw. What on earth was Neeria doing? Surely she wasn’t… “Where do you think they’re going?” she whispered to Guinevere. Mona scooped up her gear, which was getting extremely heavy, and she and Guinevere made a beeline back across the area they’d just come from, making their way back to the side gate. Fortunately, no one had detected that the gate had been tampered with. Both women crouched down, their backs against the Wall. “Princess, we will have to leave Connell and Ash will have to rescue Eala on his own so that we can track Neeria and the others before they get too far from us,” she said hurriedly. Getting back to the woods without being detected would be a problem now that the rain had stopped and there was daylight. Mona poked her head out from their hiding place and looked upwards, craning her neck to check the ramparts. She could clearly see 3 guards roving patrol. Guinevere had a disguise but Mona did not. The only way Mona would make it to the tree line would be if Guinevere could distract the guards while the other woman made a run for it. “Guinevere, you will have to distract them,” Mona said looking up, “and I may have to leave some of these things behind” she added, shaking her shoulders, allowing her packs to fall to the ground. Inwardly, Mona was disgusted. Where was the group going? They were heading in the direction of the camp. There were 3 Romans and one other – the one who carried Neeria. He was scrubby and not Roman perhaps he was a local or a even a knight. Was Neeria leading them to Merlin as Mona had suspected all along? The woad’s blue eyes flashed. This new development might change things completely. Perhaps Mona wouldn’t have to dispatch Neeria at all. Merlin would do it himself once he found out she had betrayed had him. Perfect!!, she chuckled to herself. Mona looked back at Guinevere, her thoughts not betraying her blank expression. “What should we do?” |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 28 2010, 01:19 AM Post #148 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Mon Jun 16, 2008 8:59 am Galahad Galahad looked at the food that was in front of him and his stomach gave a gurgle of anticipation. Yes, yes he was hungry. Such a practical thing to feel given the circumstances. The young Knight skooched forward on his bench and placed his elbows on the table. He glanced up as the serving wench waited with her hand open. Blue eyes swivelled from Gawain to the wench and back again. Until he realised that he was getting this round. With a tsk, not at Gawain but at the situation, Galahad rifled around the pouch at his waist and frowned. He pulled the ties loose and tugged the little pouch free, upending it onto the wooden table. A few coins tinkled out, a few thin strips of leather, a bit of fluff, gravel and an acorn. The Sarmatian poked the money free from the other bits and pushed them to the edge of teh table. "There." he snapped at the wench who gathered the coins and went on her way. Galahad used the edge of his hand to gather all the bits of pieces back together, sliding them off the edge of the table into the waiting pouch. A small thunk was heard and the Knight glanced down between this feet, black hair falling forward.
Gawain's voice made Galahad look up from his search for the missing thing from his pouch. He was not focussed though, his head falling forward as he shifted back in his seat, reaching down to find what it was that fell. The blonde knight's advice went in one ear and lodged in a petulant part of his brain before sidling out the other side as his fingers clasped around the acorn. "Damn it." he muttered, plonking the thing onto the table before looking up at Gawain. His face scrunched up defensively and he brushed a hand back against his forehead, into his hair to get it out of his eyes. "And of course I'll do it sober. I'll go find him after this - " he gestured to the stew, "Then I'll tell him what's ... " he was muttering as Alina approached. His words trailed off and he looked up at the dark beauty.
Petulant didn't come close! Galahad's eyes snapped to Gawain and he looked back up at Alina, over at Gawain, back to Alina before he let his bottom lip pout outwards and he shrugged his shoulder a little, shifting his position minutely. It didn't occur to Galahad that the woman had no idea what was going on, that she didn't know that he had seen her with Kolya. Even if his brain had been functioning properly Galahad would still have presumed her guilt and given her the cold shoulder nonetheless. "Hi." he said miserably, obviously discontented with something. He sniffed loudly and hunched his shoulders forward, surrounding his bowl of stew with his entire body as he dipped the spoon in, turning it as he glanced surreptitiously towards Gawain. A part of the youngest Knight knew he should go talk to Alina instead of sitting sulking and giving her the cold shoulder - but he just couldn't bring himself to be a grown up about this when he hurt in a very real, deep sense. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 28 2010, 01:20 AM Post #149 |
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Author: Darya Date: Mon Jun 16, 2008 11:32 am Neeve
The Briton nodded pensively at Vanora’s description of this Thorn… Apparently, the female lifeless body she had seen in the infirmary was that woman. Not that she could recall the person’s height…and even if she could, seeing that Neeve herself was rather tall for a woman and could literally look down on most members of her gender, the expression 'slightly taller than' was relative for her… However, there was nothing helpful the healer could tell Vanora about Thorn…not really. “Well, I guess it was her then…”, the raven-haired said in a dry tone and stiffly licked her lips, “…I’m sorry I can’t give you more information…but I had to leave the infirmary in quite a hurry that night… Maybe you can ask one of the nuns…” And with that, she gave Vanora a faint, almost apologetic smile before watching the redhead signalize one of the serving maids to take care of her order…
“Thanks…”, the healer murmured but then narrowed her blue eyes slightly when Vanora mentioned Bors' injury. Well, at least the man had gone to the infirmary. It was not exactly a given that the knights went their voluntarily. Immediately, Lancelot’s rather defiant behavior of last night came to her mind…at least when it had come to his injured arm. Dagonet and Galahad seemed to be the only uncomplicated patients of the Sarmatians…it had been that way all those years ago…and obviously still was. Unconsciously, the woman smirked to herself at those thoughts and snorted quietly before focusing on Vanora again. “I’m glad to hear Bors let someone see to his leg…”, she then replied with a nod, “…no doubt he’ll be at his best again soon. As usual…” With that, Neeve grinned wryly…surely Vanora would understand since the redhead belonged to the few people of Badon that Neeve knew and who knew the knights as long as she did. “Any of the kids got harmed during the attack?”, the raven-haired then inquired and arched an eyebrow at Vanora. She knew that there was nothing worse than children getting into the middle of an attack… |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 28 2010, 01:21 AM Post #150 |
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Author: Eledhwen Date: Mon Jun 16, 2008 11:39 am Bors Bors slowly drifted back to consciousness, hearing the low rumble of voices from close by. His head was thumping, and he groaned, bringing one hand up to squeeze his eyes with thick fingers. Where was he...? It all slowly began to seep back into his befuddled brain, and he tried to open one eye, shifting up on the pillow as he did so. The infirmary... that was it... what the bloody hell had that vicious cow given him? Whatever it was it had knocked him right ou... "OW!" Bloody hell that hurt... He stopped trying to move and lowered his hand to his thigh instead, touching the tender flesh around the bandage wrapped tightly round his wound. Gritting his teeth, he opened both eyes to a squint, and tipped his head to one side to see who was making all the noise. The first sight to meet his bleary gaze was the messy red locks of a woman, and for a moment he brightened at the thought that Vanora had come to see him. Then he realised it was Saoirse, and he huffed grumpily, a scowl clouding his already crumpled expression. What was she doing here? Was Dag alright...? He turned his head more to look at his friend, and saw the light in his tired eyes that hadn't been there before. A noise by the door had him turning too quickly, sending sharp daggers through his head, and he winced before opening his eyes again to gaze upon Lancelot as he appeared by the bed. "Hmph!" he snorted, and turned away, uncaring of the pain in his leg the movement caused. He didn't want to see that bastard. No doubt now they were back he'd be draping himself all over Vanora again, and at the minute Bors couldn't do a bloody thing about it, not with this leg. |
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