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| June 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 23 2010, 07:18 PM (3,699 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | Mar 28 2010, 03:37 PM Post #166 |
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Author: linnet Date: Wed Jun 18, 2008 9:14 pm Mother Lavinia Oh, it was easy for Lavinia to be brusque and dismissive with adults. It wasn’t just second nature; it was first nature as well. But children were another matter. She simply had a soft spot in her soul for them. Even the wild Woad child had squeezed sympathy and concern from the old nun. Lavinia saw children as innocents, not yet corrupted by the world’s sinful temptations. And besides, they could be so heartbreakingly cute. The irony Lavinia had to live with was that everything about her had been designed by God, during one of his practical joking moods, to make her unlikeable in a child’s eyes. The stern demanding and critical demeanor that served her so well in dealing with grown-ups, made children shrink away in avoidance. In her younger years, she had tried her darnedest to smile and speak sweetly to the little ones she dealt with. It never worked. The children would remain distant and untrusting. So over time she gave up trying to communicate with them on any level other than strictly as a professional healer. If she could manage to soften her voice and appearance enough to not outright frighten the young ones, she considered it lucky.
Heartbreakingly cute wasn’t nearly adequate in describing this one. The old woman smiled as she watched the little blonde in the oversized dress pick herself up and hurry to join her. Such enthusiasm to help was certainly never exhibited by any of Lavinia’s nincompoop staff. She had called for Fleur to follow her in order to clear everyone away from Dagonet, and so that the child could be taken back to her sister. Then Lavinia was going to get to the business of making arrangements for the two girls. But now, seeing Fleur’s eager expression, the nun thought – why not? “Do you know numbers, Fleur?” she asked. “You can help me take some inventory. You’ll probably do a better job than the last person who did it.” Lavinia spoke as if to an adult, but an adult she might actually like - if such a thing existed. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 28 2010, 03:38 PM Post #167 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Wed Jun 18, 2008 9:39 pm Vanora
Vanora nodded and pushes a stray hair from her brow, 'Perhaps tonight when I leave for the night, I will go and ask. It would be nice to give Adian some sort of news..." She was about to finish when the wench returned with the meal Neeve had ordered. Hopefully she was not late for her meeting or wherever she had to got to. Taking a piece of material, Vnaora tied back her unruly hair. As the wench walked away, Vanora glanced at Neeve, then left her eyes rove about to see if any other ale orders were needed before turning her eyes back to the young woman. "It is okay if you did not have all of the information...the woads did keep everyone busy before during and after..." The scene of Thorn running out of the tavern and into the woad infested courtyard...the way the woad had just thoughtlessly killed her, the baby she was carrying and the little boy that she had tried to save. She had thought that spending the night in Bors' arms would rid her of the scene, but it haunted her....
Vanora chuckled dryly, "Took a bit of tooth pulling to get him to go...Too much excitement in here, so he finished his food and left...think he said something about having stitched it himself? Sometimes I am not sure where he gets his brains....the lovable lug." She had ended what she said with a warm smile. She loved Bors, and could never wait for the times when she could be near to him. It was rare that they could just sit and talk without having others about....They both loved having the little bastards about as well. Knocking herself out of the thought, Vanora shook her head, "They were all pretty shaken, but I had them hiding in a safe area....a few scratches, but they are fine, thanks for asking." She made sure the lunch basket was wrapped well enough to keep the food hot, then scooted the basket containing two large bowls of stew, bread, and cheese, toward Neeve.... |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 28 2010, 03:39 PM Post #168 |
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Author: TwistOfShadows Date: Thu Jun 19, 2008 8:31 am Eyla Did Artorius associate all women with weakness? It was a proclivity of masculinity and patriarchy to view the female with disdain. Indeed, it had been Eve who first tasted the delectable flesh of the apple of Sin…and she had enjoyed it. God forbid, a woman enjoy her life in a man’s world! Oh but Eyla appeared the epitome of weakness. Her delicate body and flawless skin appeared soft and in dire need of protection. Her beauty was fragile and perfect…but her mind? It was more learned than most. She sought pleasures of the body, not trust nor marriage nor protection, and it served her well. She had never had her trust betrayed, because she refused to give it. Nor did Eyla suffer self-pity, because she enjoyed her life…and if a hard time reared its head? Well, she sought distractions and did not dwell upon it. She was happy, content, and no-one could challenge it. No-one at all. She was not vulnerable to a man’s touch, because she encouraged it, she seduced it. The woman had more power than many realized, because she manipulated hedonistic need and passion. Eyla was no fool. She was a survivor, and she used men to her own gains… Her small fingers slipped between Artorius’ strong and bony knuckles, and Eyla tilted her head. A thick curl untangled itself from her hair, sweeping over her tanned shoulder and lingering between them. The woman could feel the tension and strain in his hands, and she kneaded it gently, pressed, rubbed, soothed. She was surprisingly gentle, and the Roman did not react. He allowed it, and a feline smile touched at her mouth. Her dark eyes looked to him, and she slipped her thumb over the back of his hand, stroking. Comforting. His green eyes opened slowly, tiredly, and the woman saw firelight sparkle in their depths. She looked to the strong line of his jaw, his soft and inviting mouth. Oh, she had tasted him before. He had tasted…potent, and it had delighted her. Rich men were usually dull, boring…but Artorius? Oh, he was memorable, because he did not submit so easily…
Common? Oh, but Eyla did not truly believe that she was common. It had merely been an attempt at subservience, and it did not suit her. Her dark eyes gleamed in the dull light, and her lips parted at his words. Yes, she had unique talents, but Artorius had not fully experienced them. Yet. The woman cocked her head to the side, and arched an eyebrow. He did not call her common, and yet he recognized her wanton talents. Such a lovely paradox! Eyla adored wordplay, she lived for it, and none realized that she was an educated woman. Perhaps one day the Roman would realize she could hold a conversation with the Pope? Well…conversation was another word for it…Eyla truly believed that she could seduce the Pope. He was old…apparently…and old men paid more for smaller efforts. The woman almost laughed aloud at her thoughts. Artorius had far too much faith in her, and it was…sad. Eyla knew she could not live honestly, because she enjoyed dis honesty. It was more fun than being fair and true to her dignity… Artorius squeezed her fingers, and she breathed an appreciate sigh.
Oh? Eyla’s smile did not disappear, but his words annoyed her somewhat. The Roman gestured towards his moneybox, but the whore did not turn to look at it. She knew exactly where it was, because she had perused it before. Eyla had not stolen from him, not money anyway, but she had been somewhat dazzled by his wealth. Her dark eyes had sparkled at the golden coins…how could one man be so rich? How could he be so rich…and so unhappy? Artorius was not easy to read, but it made the challenge sweeter. Eyla had seen his sadness before…he was not so untouchable, and he fascinated the whore. Eyla saw the defeat in his eyes, the confliction of emotions, and she felt him loosen his hand from hers… …And she snatched it back. Her fingers tightened around his, and she pulled his hand into her lap. The woman cradled it there, and placed her other hand over it…almost protectively… “Come now Artorius, I will not steal from you…” she laughed, a sweet sound. Her voice was thick with honey, and she patted his hand gently. Eyla took a seat beside him, and did not care for the lack of invitation. The Roman was in a foul mood, but it did not deter her. No, she merely got comfortable. Did he seek to get rid of her? Perhaps, and the thought amused her. Eyla has renound for her perseverance, her patience. She spoke again, amused. Her lips curled into a wider smile, challenging his decision. “You do not seem happy, which is such a shame…because I could make you happier than you’ve been for a while…” Eyla laughed, before shaking her had in defeat. Without hesitation, she dipped her lips to his hand…and pressed a kiss there. It was small thing, but enough. Her lips parted over his knuckles, and she breathed her warm breath upon his dewy skin…and then withdrew. Innocent? No, but gentle and not aggressively passionate. Her expression softened as she sat up, and she glanced around his room. Seeking inspiration…and then she remembered his wound… She turned back, and spoke. “If you will not pay me to pleasure you, then talk to me. What is war like? And is it truly worth the discomfort you feel now?” The woman looked to his injury, and arched an eyebrow in question. “Or perhaps your injury is a result of clumsiness?” It was a gentle joke, and the woman smiled. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 28 2010, 03:42 PM Post #169 |
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Author: Darya Date: Thu Jun 19, 2008 11:35 am Darya
The dark Sarmatian nodded pensively as she kept walking alongside Gabriel. All he was saying sounded reasonable…and sad. She had no idea not could she really imagine how it must be for a parental unit to rejoin with their children after…years. Darya only knew how it felt like to lose mother and father…and that at an age at which one was very aware of that loss. To be separated forcibly…it was nothing she would want anyone to experience. A foolish wish of course since the woman knew that most of her fellow Sarmatians had gone through just the same. And probably some of Badon’s other residents, too. However, a part of her wished that some sign of her family would have reached her eventually…just once. But as it was, the closest thing to a family member she had left was Tristan…her almost-brother-in-law. But Rome’s troops had come too early. “If they do not recognize you…how do you plan to convince them…to prove to them who you are?”, the dark-haired asked with a pensive frown on her brow as they rounded a corner, “…or do you count on the naïve credulousness of the youth?” Then Darya smirked slightly. “And your charms maybe?”, she added and almost teasingly arched an eyebrow at the man beside her…
“Well, even though I’m sure the company could be worse, it would indeed be useful to have a hint of where we’re heading…or we might end up wandering the fortress forever…”, the female replied and watched the few sunbeams, that managed to break through the clouds, almost reflect on Gabriel’s incredibly pale skin. Pale? It appeared almost white by now. And she had thought she would be pale… Darya briefly shook her head to herself before scanning their surrounding…
…and almost bumping into the man when he suddenly stopped by a very… Well, how to describe it? Neglected maybe? Deserted? A rather empty appearing residence. Darya tilted her head and critically assessed the building while Gabriel cautiously opened the door. The female Sarmatian pursed her lips and watched the pale man closely… It was pretty obvious that this scenario was not what Gabriel had expected to find… Gone? “Maybe…maybe they have moved? Not necessarily away from Badon…but to another place at the Fortress?”, she mused and went to her tippy toes for a moment only to perhaps peek into the dark building… And by the Gods, what kind of stench was that? She had smelled it before… It was death… Hopefully just a dead animal…, Darya thought and swallowed roughly. She was not afraid of seeing dead things…or of death itself. But in this very moment, the stench made her feel rather sick… |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 28 2010, 04:57 PM Post #170 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Thu Jun 19, 2008 3:08 pm Ione Her body still tingled from their joining and the delicious touches and kisses he had lavished on her. She snuggled close to him feeling his warm breath on her face as he slept...neither of them had slept much in the last few days, so it had been as welcomed as their lovemaking. turning her face to kiss him lightly in the lips, Ione lay there for a moment letting her body cool from the passion. Taking her dress, she slipped quietly out of bed, and placed the dress back on tying it in place with the green sash. Ione looked down at her lover and she could find no words mentally that described what she was feeling right now. Winter gray light shone through the small window bathing his muscular back in silver shades.... He seemed so peaceful right now, and she didn't want to awaken him. In her heart, Ione wanted Mirtha to live in the shop with her....she liked his company and they needed the companionship. Bending one last time to kiss him softly, Ione slipped out of the room, closing the door softly behind her. The shop. Things were in order, and she knew at some point that the shop needed to be opened, if only for a small while. Going over to the door, Ione unlocked it, then returned to the hearth, and rekindled the fire and put on some tea water.... |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 28 2010, 04:58 PM Post #171 |
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Author: linnet Date: Thu Jun 19, 2008 9:02 pm Gawain If Alina hadn’t been there, Gawain would have reacted to the damn acorn being lobbed in his direction by returning to the table and telling Galahad to grow up. If Alina hadn’t been there – and if he wasn’t feeling sorry for his friend’s pitiable misery –and if he didn’t believe that Galahad was too drunk to know what he doing. Instead, the blonde knight didn’t show that he’d even noticed the petulant act. He moved toward the center area of the tavern and stood leaning against a wooden support beam. From there he could survey most of the people gathered in the fort’s social heart. He took a long drink from the tankard he’d carried with him, and then let his eyes settle on the table he’d so deliberately avoided seeing before. Empty. He really had expected nothing different. Men didn’t spend their money to simply sit with a whore in the tavern. Somewhere in the fort, the soldier was having Catherine for whatever he wanted, whatever it took to get off. Gawain shoved that awareness down out of reach, and forced his thoughts to something else. Money. His plan to collect enough to pay for his sword was getting off to a dismal start. Coins were flowing in the wrong direction, and faster than they should. He’d bought the wine last night, angrily left money with Catherine this morning, and paid for food and drinks for himself and Galahad. He needed to find a source to start replenishing his funds. He scanned the tavern patrons, looking for any kind of gambling action taking place. But at this time of day there wasn’t any. He could try to start some himself if there were any promising looking groups of gullible soldiers. No such luck. He’d have to wait until evening when the drinks would be flowing freely and the action would be plentiful. The long-haired knight raised his tankard to his mouth again before shifting his attention toward the front of the tavern. Now he was just looking to see what familiar faces were in the place. His dread of facing people was gone once he’d confessed Brianna’s desertion to Galahad. He could handle the questions and reactions, or so he believed. He spotted Derfel with his woman. Linnett was with him as well, along with another man. Nearer the door, Gawain saw the bright red flame of hair that could only be Vanora. A tall dark-haired woman was talking to Bors’ lover. The other woman’s back was to him, but he had no trouble recognizing her, and smiled at the recognition. Gawain glanced back at the table with Galahad and Alina, just to get an idea of how badly things were going. Then he pushed his back off of the beam he’d been leaning on and made his way toward the bar area where Vanora and Neeve conversed. “Ladies,” he said in his most charming voice, as he walked up to them, giving each a naturally friendly smile. “Nothing goes better with good ale than a beautiful and charming woman. But two such women at once might be dangerous. I’ll take my chances, if you don’t mind me butting in.” He raised his eyebrows, questioningly in case they didn’t care to have company right now. “Vanora. Neeve. It’s good to see you,” he added, replacing the amiable flattery with honest expression. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 28 2010, 05:02 PM Post #172 |
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Author: sabor ice Date: Fri Jun 20, 2008 2:37 am Cáel
He chuckled, the laughter reaching his eyes, giving them a majestic glow. It was difficult to imagine Cáel's malicious intentions, for everything about him seemed honest. But, he was far from a good man. His soul was tortured of a life past. His mind was corrupted with crooked thoughts. He was incapable of genuine empathy, void of emotion. He felt nothing where money was not concerned. "Children are exceptional creatures. They do not carry the same expectations as adults, nor do they judge. They accept you simply as you are because they know no other way. They do not fear and they do not hate. Perhaps if everyone in the world was more like a child, then the oppressive anger that fuels futile wars would exist no more," he answered, gesturing with his right hand to a building damaged by battle. He smiled and gave a wry shake of his head and the load of hullabaloo he spoke. He folded his hands comfortably behind his back and briefly studied Darya from the corner of his eye. "When you have children, my dear, you will truly understand trust, for they inexplicably give it unconditionally. They will open your heart to endless possibilities. Trust me, I would know," the man said. His tone had not been chiding, merely informative. His observance had meant no offense. "My children may not know me now, but they will. Time can be an endearing thing," Cáel added, coolly.
Cáel remained composed, a half-smile etching into his features at the woman's suggestion. Of course there might have been a logical explanation. There was no cause to fret yet. There was nothing to solidify the fact that any of the women had perished, saved for the stench of death lingering low in the air, but the smell could have been anything. There were no bodies. He would not panic unless there were bodies - he couldn't tolerate the sight of dead people. A sour business venture, Cáel could handle, but dead folk - well, that was just plain nasty. "Yes, perhaps..." he remarked, grimly. He smacked his lips together, his features screwed up, as if he could taste the death, and he nearly gagged. Thankfully, Darya hadn't seen his vulnerability from where she stood somewhere behind him. Quickly the man composed himself again, turning his attention toward the door when he felt the chill of an unwelcome presence. A white-haired man with thick caterpillar eyebrows stood there, seemingly assessing Cáel and Darya dubiously. His eyes, which appeared to have once been blue, were filmed over milky white. The old man was at least partially blind. "What business have you here?" the old man asked, his voice raspy and worn. "Good sir," Cáel began conversationally, stepping closer to the stranger. "Mayhap you could help me. Do you know of the family that lived here?" "Hrm...I do not know them intimately, but I know of them. I am called Hans; I live nearby. If memory serves me correctly, the husband used to be a carpenter here. Gabriel was his name. He disappeared. Left. His wife, she was not well...up here, or so I've heard," the old man explained, and gestured to his cranium with a jut of his thumb. "She had two children, kept them walled up inside this place after he left, was very secretive. Very strange..." Cáel tried to look apologetic at the mention of 'his' leaving, and then his features turned concerned at the latter. "My family..." the Goth said, sounding quite humble. "I am Gabriel. I left...to earn money for good medicine for Heather, my wife. I beseech you, friend, to tell me how they fair." Hans mumbled incoherently, threw a glance in Darya's direction, before turning his squinted gaze back to Cáel. "My eyes are not what they used to be, young man, but you do not sound like Gabriel. I knew Gabriel. He worked with my son, Abraham, who died some time ago." "Time has changed me, friend, as it has changed you," Cáel offered. "Well..." Hans began, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I know a fella that helped with the woman that lived here...she died a week or two ago, methinks. They moved the body." "And...and the children?" he prodded, almost demanding in his tone. "Alive, I suspect. The woman was the only one taken from here," Hans sniffed. "Although recently there was a terrible sickness spread throughout the fort. It might've claimed them, too. I know not." Cáel nodded in understanding. He thanked the old man, and Hans departed soon after. After a moment, he looked to Darya, sighed, and then smiled abashedly. "Show an old man to the infirmary?" he asked her. "Perhaps they might be there..." Alina Maybe she had come at a bad time. Then again, when would it have ever been a good time to approach someone and ruin their life with news of a lover's infidelity? Well, perhaps not ruin...damage. Some part of Alina hoped Galahad - having not been particularly faithful himself - would somehow understand her disposition. But, understand what exactly? That these things just 'happen' sometimes? It seemed like an excuse, a poor, dirty excuse. Galahad had always treated her well - he deserved better than an excuse. Galahad seemed uncharacteristically distant, avoiding eye contact and responding mechanically. He seemed to lean away from her, as if she was some sort of plague. It got Alina wondering why the sudden mood change from earlier when they had been together. For some reason, it made her nervous. She folded an arm across her chest, hand cupping the opposite elbow, as her thumb and forefinger tugged habitually at her bottom lip. She eyed the tankard of ale in front of the young knight a moment, fantasizing it was the only cause of his odd behavior. Surely it was only the alcohol.
She blinked a couple of times - they were heavy movements - before she turned her gaze toward Gawain as he spoke to her. She obeyed and sat in the older knight's seat without much thought to it, giving a murmur of thanks in reply. She stared at Galahad for a long moment, and under her scrutiny, the knight seemed to squirm childishly in his seat even more. The woman missed what Gawain had said when he laid down the coins, and arched a curious brow when she heard him mention something about an acorn. She turned to inquire, but the man was already departing. Galahad murmured something unintelligibly, and launched a small object at Gawain's retreating figure. The acorn, she assumed.
Galahad seethed in silence, his body language defensive. Alina dropped her gaze several times, her fingers twisting into nervous knots in her lap. She was unaware that he was waiting for her to speak because she had been waiting for him to say something, anything to her. The silence was intimidating. How strange that she was able to laugh in the face of danger, but when it came to Galahad's obvious disappointment, she felt so incredibly small and defenseless. His brusque tone caught her off guard even moreso than his actual inquiry. Alina clenched her jaw, so that it would not drop. Oddly enough, she wished for Gawain - a near complete stranger - to suddenly re-appear, to cut through the awkwardness and tension between she and Galahad. Alina leaned across the table then, reaching for his tankard when he did, keeping its base steadily on the table. "You're quite drunk enough, Galahad, and I need to talk to you," she said, leaning even closer to him a moment, her voice quieter as if she was about to whisper a secret that she wanted no one else but him to hear. "Privately." Fleur
The girl was like a meteor shooting across the Heavens on a starless night. Her spirit was unbreakable, her path bright and directive. She navigated an unbeaten course. Her light could've guided the lost. Fleur was the epitome of youth, of innocence and all things green and good. She did not hate. She did not judge. She saw only the best in people. She brought out the best in most, not by word nor deed, but by simply existing. Fleur was hope for those who had none. "I can count this many!" Fleur beamed, proudly displaying the digits on each of her little hands to Lavinia. She grabbed onto the healer's dress for support, hopping a moment on one foot. She stuck her tongue out in concentration, seemingly adamant about removing one of her shoes. "Or I can use my 'foots', too. Then, I can count lots higher!" She toppled over ungracefully, her behind thunking to the floor, though she managed to catch herself with her palms. Her left shoe was half-off, dangled crookedly between her foot and the floor. For a second, she appeared stunned, but then her features softened thoughtfully. She peered up at Lavinia curiously. "What'sa inventory, 'Vinia?" the little blonde wondered. She gave a petulant pout of her lips. "Does it hurt?" The girl had no idea what 'inventory' meant, but somehow it sounded dooming. Perhaps knowing numbers had something to do with how many times one had to be 'inventoried.' Fleur just hoped whatever it was, it did not include having to take medicine. She made a sour face just thinking about that possibility. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 28 2010, 05:04 PM Post #173 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Fri Jun 20, 2008 11:59 am Arthur The Commander’s tired eyes had fluttered shut again; he had thought his quiet words and stilled body was enough to suggest that he only wished to be left to his rest. But apparently not in Eyla’s eyes as she took possession of his hand pulling his fingers into her lap….and most decidedly not leaving the Roman to his sleep. Arthur re-opened his eyes and fixed the woman with a slightly discontented stare while he briefly licked at his bottom lip. Now what?
Why in God’s name does she continue to call me by my full given name when she knows very well that I prefer ‘Arthur’? Arthur’s mother had only referred to him as ‘Artorius’ thus it seemed strange that a woman most decidedly not matriarch in type would choose to do the same. He arched a single thick brow at her statement. Arthur had clearly offered Eyla the coin, thus it would not be theft at all. And if it was what the harlot wanted or required….and if it would purchase Arthur a little peace right now….but no. Eyla promptly sat down at Arthur’s side. His eyes followed the shape of her hips as they bent and then his gaze lifted to the long wavy strand of her hair that had fallen forward over her shoulder. Eyla’s beauty was striking; every rich detail of her shapely form, every fluid movement she made, and every mellifluous word that flowed out of her perfectly shaped mouth. Stunning. Yet, Arthur was far too weary and weak to perform his part in Eyla’s promiscuous dance today. And the Roman – the Christian - knew better of it.
Eyla offered physical pleasure yet again. Why was this woman so persistent? Surely she could convince any man (or woman for that matter) in the fortress to bed her with a single word and using the same seductive expression that she was now using on Arthur - if that was all she wanted. Lancelot would not hesitate; Arthur thought darkly and then quickly shoved the image aside. Lancelot’s ‘relationships’ were no longer any of the Commander’s concern. Or so Arthur reminded himself…..albeit failing in his effort to do so. Happiness. Was there such a thing? Perhaps only in fleeting quiet moments….when Arthur had felt love in the touch of another…another with dark eyes and tender….I have failed them both. Perhaps Eyla was the distraction that Arthur required right now as laying here in quiet thought only brought on painful emotions. The Roman preferred to be on a battlefield with a sword in his hand and a clear purpose. No one was more efficient and effective in warfare than Artorius Castus. He could defeat any foe in battle, yet he could not reconcile his own heart. Therefore, Arthur found no happiness here. Eyla then proceeded to kiss Arthur’s knuckles as if she truly held affection for him. He swallowed rather roughly at feeling her warm breath caress the rough skin on the back of his hand. He did not pull his hand away. Yet, the Commander was not so naive as to believe she truly cared for him. Life was obviously a game to Eyla. Especially when it came to sex. She had toyed with him that night…she had pushed through the boundaries of decency until Arthur’s body could no longer resist her wiles. He had nearly taken what all she had offered too. Nearly…partly…he’d briefly tasted what she had offered if only to know what it was like….curiosity….tasted what they had tasted.
Arthur snorted at Eyla’s question in regards to his injury and turned his gaze from her curious face. Clumsiness? Most decidedly not. However, Arthur had underestimated Aelle in the split second before he’d received the Saxon’s dagger in his abdomen. “War is not a suitable subject for casual conversation, Eyla. And I am quite certain that I would bore you with its intricacies,” Arthur responded dryly and with a decidedly wry grin which only dominated his expression briefly. “Why do you solicit payment for pleasure…from me, hm?” Arthur’s green eyes returned to meet Eyla’s gaze with a flicker of intensity behind his level tone. He truly wished to know why Eyla pressed to be dominated and her ministrations bought and paid for. Did she believe Arthur incapable of wanting to touch her simply for the pleasure of the act? Did she think herself unworthy of honest love and affection from another? What exactly was her motivation? The distraction of ‘Eyla’ was a welcome one for Arthur….at least while he focused on his attempts to dissect and understand her motives; Arthur was not brooding over his own shortcomings and heartbreak. He allowed the fingers of his hand she held in her lap to flex and feather over her tiny fingertips…encouraging her. Most likely encouraging her in a way that Arthur truly had not intended, but the Roman had his own skills in manipulation. And he had tasted this one before. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 28 2010, 05:05 PM Post #174 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Fri Jun 20, 2008 12:06 pm Mari Desire brimmed into unstoppable torrents between them. Mari couldn't name that which she felt - she had thought that this was how she would feel with Rafe, when she had been so sure she had wanted him, but now that it was the real deal, the real feelings, she didn't quite know what to call it. Or think of it for that matter. Her body moulded against Milan's, her back arching without a thought in her mind to do so, pressing her slender body tighter to the hard lines of his chest as her hand slithered up around the back of his neck, into the hair at the nape there. Her feet were lifted off the ground and she smiled against Milan's, mouth, her hand having lifted to the back of his head now, her dark eyes seemingly darker with this new feeling. The kiss was broken. Mari smiled at Milan, feeling replete and yet there was another surge of something there. The kiss had satiated something, but not everything, it seemed. The young woman shut her eyes, enjoying the feel of Milan's body as he placed her onto her feet. She blinked lazily as he took a step back, watching her reaction. Mari looked at him with an obvious, silly grin on her lips, dazed by his caresses, longing for more. Her lips were swollen from the unfamiliar passion that had just blossomed between them. With a shy giggle, Mari looked down at the ground and self-consciously pulled the towel up a little higher where it had slid down when he placed her back on her feet. "That was new." she commented with a wry grin, looking at Milan with her head tilted to one side. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, Mari stepped forward, placing her hand on Milan's chest and tentatively kissed his lips, her eyes open wtching him. She stepped away then, hand still on his chest, a wealth of deep thought playing out behind the dark irises of her brown eyes. "It feels nice.." she told him, placing a hand lower on her body, across the flat of her stomach as she kept her intense gaze upon his handsome face, considering. Blowing out a breath, Mari dipped her chin, suddenly feeling a flash of red to her cheeks. She shivered and then pointed behind Milan -- "I'll go get dressed maybe? We can go ... do something? Maybe go to the house and see if it is still standing after last night?" she said hopefully, a hunger still lingering in the warmth of her eyes when she looked at Milan. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 28 2010, 05:07 PM Post #175 |
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Author: Darya Date: Fri Jun 20, 2008 12:13 pm Neeve For a moment, Neeve found herself distracted by the tavern door being opened yet again… She saw Derfel entering…and…Lucius. The woman’s face went blank for a moment. The moment of being caught off guard by this sight. She had not seen the Roman in a while and had thought he had been sent on a mission of some sort. Her crystal-blue gaze lingered on him for a bit longer and a part of her hoped to get that chance to talk to him again soon… However, Neeve soon managed to focus on the redhead in front of her again…
…and grinned wryly when Vanora spoke of Bors again. Neeve had always liked the oldest of the knights…even though her relationship to him had never been as close as…Well, as to Lancelot, for example…or Percival – bless him – or Markaad for that matter. However, it was his loyalty and reliability that made Bors a grumpy but lovable person indeed. “Well, at least he does go to the infirmary”, the Briton then stated with a dry laughter, “…that’s not exactly a given among our beloved Sarmatians…” Neeve shook her head slightly…yet she knew very well why the knights tried to avoid the infirmary whenever possible. She had seen how some of the Christian nuns had treated – or rather not treated – them when they all had been teenagers. It was a shame…but the nuns' attitude had improved. No doubt thanks to Arthur… The healer licked her lips, reminding herself that she needed to see to the Roman really soon. “However, I’m glad to hear the little ones are alright…”, she then added with a nod…and then fell silent when one of the serving maids showed up with the meals she had ordered. The soup smelled delicious and Neeve wondered just how long she would manage to resist eating it all… Her empty stomach felt like knotting up…painfully longing for food. But no, Arthur was first… And while the woman watched Vanora packing the food into a basket, another very familiar voice reached the healer’s ears…and only a moment later, the just as familiar face to the voice appeared by her side…
The raven-haired woman pursed her lips in a smug way for a moment and her blue eyes sparkled at the knight next to her. “Still the old charmer, Gawain, hm?”, she teased the blonde knight and tilted her head slightly. Neeve was of course very aware of there being a certain beauty about her…but she had never been a charming person. At least that was her opinion. “It’s good to see you, too”, she continued and eyed the knight for an instant, searching for the traces the last battle might have left on him, “…how are you things?” |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 28 2010, 05:09 PM Post #176 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Fri Jun 20, 2008 12:27 pm Galahad Galahad wished that Gawain hadn't left him like that. He glanced over at the retreating back of his friend and pouted even more, unable to look at Alina straight in the eye though she sat directly across from him. Instead he looked at the table, a darkness beneath his eyes that was not normally there. Tiredness, the effects of his wound, his bad mood and his drinking on an empty stomach. Though, by his standards, he had not had half enough to drink yet. Not to dull what he felt inside anyways. Their hands crossed over each other as Galahad went to lift his tankard, he looked across at Alina sharply and frowned.
So that was it then... this was it. This was the end of it. She wanted to talk privately to him because she was going to tell him to hump off, that she was going to live happily ever-bloody-after with Kol-bloody-ya. Galahad's nose twitched. His brow furrowed even deeper and his hand twitched away from hers, bringing the tankard with it. He glowered at Alina, feeling his stomach do another flip, threatening to upend the food he had eaten. "I'm not nearly as drunk as I should be." he muttered, guzzling the last of his ale and waving the empty thing in the air signalling for more without looking away from Alina. Whilst his bravado was all anger and irritation, deep inside Galahad was squirming with fear and apprehension over what she had to say to him in private. He had seen her kissing Kolya, oh that was obvious, but maybe there was another reason for it... ? Maybe there was something else, soething that didn't have to be done in private. In private meant she was going to say something he didn't want to hear and she didn't want others to hear - "And here's private enough for whatever you have to say. There's no one sitting anywhere near us, love...." Galahad slurred, gesturing widely with his arm to the empty seats around them, his voice a little higher than it should have been. The serving wench rolled her eyes as she refilled his tankard and pulled a few coins from Gawain's pile to fund the drink before tottering off again. Galahad sniffed and looked into the yellow liquid, sniffing again but louder than the first time. And as he looked down he looked very, very young, and very, very hurt. His shoulders had sagged, the lines beneath his eyes showing how tired and worn out he was. "Unless you're planning on saying something that's going to upset me." he added in a dull tone that was expectant of hurt and upset, quietly, lifting the tankard to his lips. Amadeus The Optio was not as aware as any of the others on horseback right now - Mordred included. As they moved through the forest he was aware of the pain in his thigh, the wet in his clothes, the cold in his bones, the moisture that hung high in the air waiting to come down on them in a torrential downpour when the time came. He was not aware of creatures moving about in the distance, smoke on the air. They walked into some encampment area and it took him a moment, and catching sight of Tristan stopping, to realise that they were ... somewhere. Prickling upwards, suddenly alert, Amadeus let his grey eyes rove about the place. Huts, scorched earth from fires, a few bits of broken branches and twigs suggesting people moving about the place here quite recently... he thought. Still alert, the Optio glanced over his shoulder at Mordred, nodding for the man to keep an eye on the woad bitch on the scout's horse when Tristan hopped off teh back of the beast. Letting his horse move forward a little, Amadeus watched Tristan prowl, amazed at how silently he could move. He had his hand on the hilt of his sword, ready, hsi heart thundering. He had very little experience fighting in this situation but he did not doubt his abilities at all - it was in his family's lineage to be a good fighter. The scout ambled around a small hut, Amadeus cast a warning glare to the woad bitch. If this was a trap she would not have time to scream for her head would be rolling about the forest floor as they sped away to safety.
Tristan's voice made the Optio's body tense. He didn't 'jump' in surprise, no, that would be too severe a way of saying what had really hapened. But his shoulders tensed and his head whipped towards the sound of the voice. Lip curling upwards, Amadeus huffed out a breath and slid down out of the saddle as gracefully as he could considering the flesh on his thigh had seized up from being in the saddle in the cold. His boots crunched branches underfoot noisily as he approached where Tristan stood - a hut. He saw the feet and gave a puzzled cock to his head, looking at Tristan questionningly. Lifting his eyebrows, he pushed past the scout and into the hut, allowing his eyes to adjust to what his senses had not picked up at all -- People. "What the ... ?" he murmured, looking into the frightened but furious eyes of a woad. A feeling of supermacy surged through Amadeus' veins. He was the leader here. He had full authority on the lives of these creatures, their futures lay in the palm of his gloved hand. With a word they could be dead. With a word they could be taken to Badon and tortured for what information might be of use to Rome... ! Feeling invincible, Amadeus lifted his chin and took a step back, relaxed, composed but filled with self-righteous, dangerous smugness. He kept his eyes on the woads and gestured with his hand towards them - "We will see if they can tell us anything useful - if they do not tell us what we need to know then you will cut their throats, scout." Amadeus said, gesturing for the Sarmatian to continue - "Ungag that one." he pointed to the man furthest away from him. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 28 2010, 05:11 PM Post #177 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Fri Jun 20, 2008 1:24 pm Derfel Drake had acknowledged Derfel’s arrival with a stiff albeit courteous nod and then returned to his presumed meal at the bar. It was coincidence, no doubt, that the older man was once again at Linnette’s side as if he were a silent sentry watching over her. Derfel for now thought no more of it as his focus was on Linnesse, the fair haired of the sisters and ‘his’ precious love. Derfel briefly motioned for Lucius to wait a moment while the young knight sorted out their drinks and the two ladies if need be. He then welcomed Linnesse’s sweet little kiss with a broad smile and an affectionate glimmer in his crystal blue eyes despite the sorrow that still had taken up residence in his expression since the battle. But by the gods the love in her eyes made all the troubles that still weighed on Derfel’s mind lift away, if only for the brief moment she smiled up at him. But there was something amiss in Linnesse’s expression…a hint of something unpleasant that instantly had Derfel concerned. Was she too weak to be out of bed?
“Good,” Derfel quietly answered in acknowledgement and slipped an arm around Linnesse’s slender waist. He looked on as his lover lifted her spoon as if to eat…but then Linnesse hesitated….
“Oh?” Derfel said in surprise as he arched both eyebrows and turned to regard Linnette with concern quite evident in his expression. Why would they order her out of her room so quickly? Had the Roman army no shame? No respect for her loss? Did Arthur know about it? Derfel was pretty certain that the Commander had more compassion than to order a widow displaced the day after informing her of her husband’s death. Or at least he ‘hoped’ that be the case. So if not Arthur’s, then whose orders? Derfel bit at his bottom lip and attempted to find sense in it…but none came.
“Why….” Derfel began and then paused to release a sigh in frustration. “Who ordered it? I will speak to Arthur and see what can be done,” He added with a frown and then raked a hand through his hair as he thought on what he’d say to the Commander. Derfel had promised to look after Linnette and he would do whatever it took to make sure Gedeon’s wife was treated fairly. But what if he couldn’t fix this? Derfel rolled his lips inward for a moment, still deep in thought when a possible solution popped into his head. No, surely she would not agree to THAT. His fingers gently rubbed at Linnesse’s back as Derfel leaned in a bit to catch a serving girl and order a couple of mugs of ale; he’d need drink to bolster himself before making the suggestion to Linnette…who would most likely take his head off for even ‘thinking’ it. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 28 2010, 05:12 PM Post #178 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Fri Jun 20, 2008 2:35 pm Drake Drake did well not to react to what was being done and said. He considered himself strong-willed in that he did not react to Linnesse's fond kiss to her partner. It was not something he could vocalise but for soem reason the show of affection both in front of Linnette and himself, and that it involved Linnette's sister, left Drake feeling... oddly cynical and somewhat outcasted. Derfel had a place in this family, he had a position as the protector and lover of Linnesse and the friend of Linnette. What position did he possess in their lives? The self-proclaimed protector of Linnette... ? Even though she had no idea that was what he was doing? He had it on the tip of his tongue to scold the Optio's idiotic and callous lack of planning regarding Linnette's abode but instead dipped his head further, frowning at the counter-top, his expression much too focussed for anyone to believe that he was not paying attention to the conversation beside him.
"The Optio." Drake said abruptly, unable to contain his tongue any longer. He half turned towards the other three, one elbow on the counter, fingers poised in an arch above the wood as he looked across the top of the two women's heads at Derfel. It was only when blue eyes met green that Drake realised, to his intense embarrassment, irritation and frustration that he was jealous of Derfel! Nostrils flaring, Drake let the dark shadow cross his features disguising hsi true emotions behind a mask of stoic severity. "Arthur will not openly over-turn the orders of his second." the Spaniard said in a quiet but affirmative tone of voice, his attention to the rank of Roman officers impeccable. Lifting his chin, Drake cast a look down to Linnette, his expression momentarily softening. "Though the decision to ask is entirely yours." the man said deferentially. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 28 2010, 05:14 PM Post #179 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Fri Jun 20, 2008 7:48 pm Linnette and Linnesse
“No.” Linnette twisted to meet Drake's eyes and shook her head emphatically- though there was a softness in her expression, a flash of gratitude and appreciation, that faded noticeably, giving way to discomfort, as she turned away from him again and back to Derfel and Linnesse. Truthfully the idea of going to Arthur and complaining- or even having someone else do so on her behalf- brought a slightly sick feeling to her stomach, one very akin to the one that had gripped her insides when Arthur had offered to do her tavern accounts for her. Arthur was wounded, they were in the middle of conflict with the Woads, he had the whole fortress to look after, and as Drake had said, for him to change the order would be to contravene Amadeus's orders. All excellent reasons not to come whining and fussing about her lot to him. Despite her earlier grumbling, that was not a step she felt appropriate, and not one that she was willing to take. “I’m sure Amadeus had good reason.” Linnette murmurred, dropping her gaze from Derfel momentarily, her forehead slightly wrinkled with thought. Amadeus knew her, knew her situation, and cared for her as a childhood friend- he wouldn’t have ordered the move unless it were necessary. She should do it without complaining- but who could she share with? Automatically, she started to turn her head questioningly back towards Drake, an inquiry, or perhaps a statement, for him starting to form on her lips- but then Linnesse hurriedly swallowed a large mouthful of stew and set down her spoon, looking from her sister to her man questioningly. “Derfel, couldn’t she share with us? I mean…” she turned to Linnette, the eager light of a good idea in her blue eyes. “Surely two rooms would be big enough for all of us- and that way I’ll be close by to help when the baby comes!” A smile, utterly satisfied with that solution and already conjuring up visions of doting aunthood, spread across her face as she looked from one to the other, hoping fervently that they would agree. If she could not have children of her own- and Linnesse was pretty sure that she could not- this might be the next best thing, and if it would help Linnette, too, what was the downside of it? Provided Derfel agreed, of course- his objection would have been the only thing that could have dissuaded Linnesse from that plan now that it had taken root in her mind. Tristan
Moving with grim, unspeaking efficiency, Tristan pushed the skin over the door to one side, hooking it over the protruding stick provided for that purpose, and stepped inside the hut, ducking his head to pass under the low lintel. The hut, as one would expect of a temporary, camp structure, was small and cramped, and the scout had to pick his way around the bound and gagged Woads to reach the side of the one the Optio had indicated. It did not escape Tristan's notice that this one was the one furthest from the Optio himself, nor that Scipio made no move to get closer. He was smug, self-satisfied, and overconfident, that one- but Tristan was not. Tristan was still watchful, every sense alert, never dropping his guard, especially now that the Woads, even bound as they were, were between him and the doorway. He moved around the back of the one he was to ungag, so that he now stood against the wall of the hut, and bent and cut the cloth around the man's mouth. The Woad spluttered and spat as soon as the cloth was removed, but said nothing, merely looking at the Optio with defiant eyes. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 28 2010, 05:16 PM Post #180 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Fri Jun 20, 2008 8:32 pm Vanora As she finished packing the huge lunch, Vanora caught sight of Derfel and a young man (Lucius) entering the tavern. Seemed like all of the regular crowd was returning to the tavern....it seemed like so long since she had seen them all. She nodded in acknowledgement to the two young men before returning to tie the bundle at the top before pushing it toward where the healer....
"Not exactly their favorite place to go. Bors told me once a nun tried to convert him...doesn't take too lightly to that....nor do any of the others. Bors loves to get under their skin..." Vanora said with a tired smile. "His leg looked a might bad...swollen and puffy red from what I saw..." Vanora began to worry about if he was alright or not as infections were dangerous things to have. She had known men to lose arms or legs from infection. The thought of Bors made her body tingle as a reminder of the night before....she could not wait to be in his arms again. Vanora had not been in the infirmary since Adian had been brought in after the first woad attack....when Thorn and Javier had brought him in. Neeve had treated him. Vanora had come to see how Bors had faired his leg being stitched up by Isolde...
Vanora gave Gawain a warm smile at his greeting. He was still a very good flirt next to Lancelot perhaps. All of the knights had that knack for making her blush, and she cocked her head toward Neeve as she replied the knight's greeting. Vanora winked at the knight, "And there is nothing I love best than a handsome young knight to whom I can serve the ale to." She laughed lightly. Vanora loved Bors as he was the father of their children, but she loved to flirt playfully with the other knights. Vanora looked at Gawain as if searching for what Bors had told her...."Gawain, how is your arm? Bors told me last night that a new young man had joined the group and had treated Dagonet, you, Galahad...Who was this young man...where did he come from?" |
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