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June 2008
Topic Started: Mar 23 2010, 07:18 PM (3,699 Views)
golden_trillium

Admin
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.

Fleur
 
"Don't worry, I'm ok. Can I help you with somethin'
today? I can do somethin' cuz I'm seven now, y'know."


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

Admin
Author: lady ione
Date: Wed Jun 18, 2008 9:39 pm
Vanora


Neeve
 
“Well, I guess it was her then…” “…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…”


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....

Neeve
 
“I’m glad to hear Bors let someone see to his leg…” “…no
doubt he’ll be at his best again soon. As usual…” “Any
of the kids got harmed during the attack?”


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

Admin
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…

Arthur
 
“You are far from common, Eyla. And I have not forgotten
your unique talents,”


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.

Arthur
 
“If it is extra coin that you require, take what you
want, You need not pleasure me for pay,”


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

Admin
Author: Darya
Date: Thu Jun 19, 2008 11:35 am
Darya


Cael
 
"Two daughters, yes. I daresay I don't anticipate my
children to remember me - even the eldest was a small
child then. I meant to write more often than I did...but
it was far too painful. I did not want to disrupt the
little ones' lives, especially while I was not certain
how long I'd be away..."


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…

Cael
 
"Oh, forgive me for prattling on. I do not wish to
monopolize your time for too long, m'lady. I believe I
might just remember the way after all..."


“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…

Cael
 
"Ah - here we are.  Gone..."


…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

Admin
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

Admin
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

Admin
Author: sabor ice
Date: Fri Jun 20, 2008 2:37 am
Cáel


Darya
 
“If they do not recognize you…how do you plan to
convince them…to prove to them who you are?…or do you
count on the naïve credulousness of the youth? And your
charms maybe?”


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.

Darya
 
“Maybe…maybe they have moved? Not necessarily away from
Badon…but to another place at the Fortress?”


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.

Gawain
 
“Alina, Sit down. I was just leaving. What I owe you for
the last round, Don’t let him forget his acorn.”


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
 
"So what do you think of that bedraggled old geezer,
Kolya, then?"


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

Mother Lavinia
 
“Do you know numbers, Fleur? You can help me take some
inventory. You’ll probably do a better job than the last
person who did it.”


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

Admin
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?

Eyla
 
“Come now Artorius, I will not steal from you…”


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
 
“You do not seem happy, which is such a shame…because I
could make you happier than you’ve been for a while…”


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.

Eyla
 
“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? Or perhaps your injury is a
result of clumsiness?”


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

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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

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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…

Vanora
 
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. They were all pretty shaken, but I had them hiding in a safe area....a few scratches, but they are fine, thanks for asking."


…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…

Gawain
 
“Ladies… 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. Vanora. Neeve. It’s good to see
you,”


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

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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.

Alina
 
"You're quite drunk enough, Galahad, and I need to talk
to you, Privately."


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
 
“Optio? You’d better see this,”


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

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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?

Linnesse
 
“Linnette has- she’s just gotten me some food. I had a
good nap,”


“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….

Linnesse
 
“We might have a problem, though, Linnette’s been told
she can’t stay in her room anymore- but she can have a
two-room apartment if she can find someone to share it
with. It doesn’t make any sense at all.”


“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.

Linnette
 
“Apparently soldiers need my room…why these soldiers
can’t take the two-room is beyond me.”


“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

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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.

Derfel
 
“Why…. Who ordered it? I will speak to Arthur and see
what can be done,”


"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

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Author: golden_trillium
Date: Fri Jun 20, 2008 7:48 pm
Linnette and Linnesse


Derfel
 
”Why…who ordered it? I will speak to Arthur and see what
can be done.”


Drake
 
"The Optio. Arthur will not openly overturn the orders
of his second. Though the decision to ask is entirely
yours."


“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

Amadeus
 
"What the...? 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. Ungag that one."


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

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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....

Neeve
 
“Well, at least he does go to the infirmary” “…that’s
not exactly a given among our beloved Sarmatians…”


"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...

Gawain
 
“Ladies… 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. Vanora. Neeve. It’s good to see
you,”


Neeve
 
“Still the old charmer, Gawain, hm?” “It’s good to see
you, too” “…how are you things?”


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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