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| June 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 23 2010, 07:18 PM (3,696 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | Mar 29 2010, 09:48 PM Post #211 |
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Author: sabor ice Date: Sun Jun 22, 2008 10:42 pm Ash Ash watched Fiona disappear around the corner and lunge toward the dungeons, and couldn't help but to take a moment to wonder if it was Roman blood that now sabotaged the girl's veins. She was mechanical, spineless. So obedient. So tamed. Without pride. There was no trace of Briton left there. It pained Ash to see one of his own so lost to her own people. Rome was a cunning, evil temptress, but Ash would not fall so easily under its spell as others before him had. One people could not prosper while the other lived. The damage had been done. There was just too much time could never erase. Peace between the Romans and the Britons was the impossible dream. The Woad sunk to the ground, a part of his Mother Earth, sacred land of Britons, even so behind the walls of a Roman Keep. They had ravaged his people's land, bled it beyond recognition. The soil, the trees, the rocks, everything - it belonged to all Britons, and someday it would again be theirs. Victory seemed only a breath away at times. The idea of freedom for his children - prospective generations to come - drove Ash onward. Until he drew his last dying breath, he would fight. Fight for a future. Gods willing he would live long enough to keep a promise - to bring Eala home alive. The Woad muttered a short prayer in his native tongue, raising a hand from the muck at his side, using his muddied digits to paint stripes across his rugged face in a fluid, diagonal motion - from his left temple to his right jaw line. Now, he was invincible. He reached for the dagger in his boot and slid it into his waistband for easier access. Ash darted for the mouth of the dungeons - which at the moment reminded the man much of a dragon's - at remarkable speed despite his injuries. Fiona had seemingly successfully lured away the guards, yet Ash remained alert, as he vanished into the dark dampness of the dragon's belly. This was the point of no return. Ash heard the clattering of a cell door being either open or closed and warily peered around one corner, his fingers gripping the hilt of his weapon tightly. There was one guard, a fat, burly one by the looks of him, who had not considerately answered the call of the decoyed damsel-in-distress. He had a tray of some sorts and set it aside as he fumbled to pull open a cell. Briefly, the Woad caught sight of the prisoner to be fed - it was Eala. As the soldier went to retrieve the food tray, his back turned toward Ash. The Woad stealthily crept up behind the man, eyes burning with deadly intent. He crashed into the soldier, savagely smashing the older man's head into the cell bars once to stun him. Before the burly soldier could cry out, Ash clamped a hand around his mouth and slit his throat. The soldier gurgled and flailed violently a moment, before his body lifelessly dropped to the ground. Ash turned and yanked the door of the cell open the remainder of the way, reaching inside and immediately pulling Eala's tiny form to him. There was no time for a proper reunion now. He blew out a sharp sigh, running a hand over the back of the girl's hair, tilting her head back so she'd look up at him. "We must hurry," he told her. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 29 2010, 09:49 PM Post #212 |
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Author: Eledhwen Date: Mon Jun 23, 2008 2:33 am Bors
Bors scrunched himself over to squint at Dagonet over his shoulder, and instead caught the smirk that Lancelot threw at Saoirse. "Hmph!" he grunted, scowling at what he took to be a secretive exchange between the two. He didn't trust the first knight, and he didn't trust the Irish girl either now, not after she had hurt his friend so badly. He didn't really want to be in the company present at the minute, but his leg was still agony, worse if anything, so he didn't have a lot of choice.
"Hmph," he growled again, the harsh sound of the dark kinight's voice grating on his nerves. "Take more'n that to put me out of action mate." He managed to roll onto his back, if for no other reason than to keep an eye on Lancelot with his friend's woman. Dag was too trusting for his own good sometimes. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 29 2010, 09:52 PM Post #213 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Mon Jun 23, 2008 3:43 am Galahad Galahad wasn't aware that he had hurt himself at all during the fall. He presumed he had hurt himself but he didn't feel it yet. When he looked up he could see Alina looking down over the table at him and quickly looked away, focussing on the gruond and getting up off of it. He staggered over his boot the first attempt and slumped back to the ground - whilst there he took a moment to consider how apt this was. Everything just falling to the floor so suddenly. Just when he thought he had been on his feet things had fallen down around him. A nice analogy of his love-life right now he thought as he made another attempt to extricate himself from the bench, table and his own wobbly legs. A pale hand appeared from above. Galahad glanced up at the tiny fingers. Fingers he had thought he knew so well - but he never would have thought that those fingers would do this to him. That the mind behind those fingers would be able to to to to ...
Sniffing, Galahad shook his head, pushing her hand away. He grasped a hold of the edge of teh table, oblivious to the eyes and attentions that were on them. With as much strength as he could muster, Galahad hauled himself to his feet, the table moved backwards as he got to the flats and he staggered back - again - but this time caught himself before falling. He wavered on his feet a moment, grimacing with a hand abotu his stomach where there was pain from his healing wound. "Staring? You didn't seem to mind people staring when you were outside with him this morning!" Galahad snapped under his breath, looking down to the side. He placed his hand flat on the table and leaned sideways, retrieving his mug of ale. Of course it was empty so he banged it onto the wooden surface. His knees bent as if he were going to sit but instead he bopped back up again adn looked Alina straight in the eye - "And if you didn't do it to hurt me then why did you do it, Alina?" her name was drawn out from his moist lips, his two fists on the centre of the table as he leaned across it at her. He shook his head and withdrew, tossing a dismissive hand in her direction. "Were you bored? Lonely? Were you you you ... was it revenge?" Galahad asked through narrowed eyes, walking around the table and walking off with a stiff wave of hsi hand over his shoulder in dismissal of her. Drake
Drake saw Derfel looking over his shoulder at Lucius and raised one eyebrow before ducking his head. Regardless of whether the Saxon wanted his help or not, he was going to help Linnette. So long as she wanted his help he would suffer the awkward feeling that he was intruding on things that were none of his business. It wouldn't be the first time that he risked being told to butt out - he could stand and observe, act when needed to letting the rest roll off his back. He didn't realise he had kept his hand on Linnette's shoulder for as long as he had until she shrugged her shoulder a little - he gently removed his hand, trying not to do it suddenly for fear of it looking like a guilty gesture.
The Spaniard's hand flexed down by his side, suitably hidden behind Linnette's slight body. He looked over her head though he knew she was looking back at him for confirmation in front of her sister and Derfel that he had indeed done as she said he had. The sister was giving a tight-lipped look at her sister. Drake's jaw gave a reflexive twitch before he looked down at Linnette, feeling as if his expressions and movements were being monitored for bad behaviour. His green eyes met Linnette's hazel ones and he gave a stiff nod of his head, acquiescing to her suggestion. Drake was just about to tell those gathered that he would be off to do as he was bid when his attention was drawn across the room. He flinched, knowing that that is where Alina had been. He was purposely keeping his distance from the young woman because he could not be more disapproving of her choice of bit on the side! But when he saw her leaning over the table at the obviously inebriated Knight, the Spaniard couldn't help but sigh in sympathy, shaking his head. And he knew that Kolya would not make this easy for her either - regardless of what he might have promised, there was no way in hell Kolya would allow this situation to pass off without getting as much out of it as he possibly could. Linnette's reaction, however, was totally unexpected. Initially.
Drake's jaw gave an audible creak at her snappish words, his eyes following her into the kitchen and then back out again. There was an anger to his eyes, an inability to keep his temper straight when he knew that one solid punch to one bearded jaw would quieten things down a little. But it was not his place - Like Gawain he believed lovers tiffs should remain between lovers. The auburn haired sister stormed out of the tavern and for a moment there was just silence. Drake watched the door as if she wuold come back and finally moved his eyes to meet Linnesse's. He said nothing for a while and then pushed back from the counter-top with a nod at Derfel, out of respect than friendliness. Out of a shared responsibility than anything else. "The room is down facing the back-yard, above the kitchens. I'll prop the door open so you know which one." Drake said precisely. He already knew which room it was that Linnette and her sister were moving to - it was the one right next door to his own room, a fact that made this whole thing that bit more ... uncomfortable for him. He had to remain somehow segregated from Linnette, despite what he wanted . IT was not what she would want, and certainly not what she would want at this moment in time. And yet the fates seemed to be colluding against him, forcing him into keeping by her side the way he knew he shouldn't. With one irritated look towards Galahad who was staggering to his feet, Drake made to leave the tavern. Eala Eala couldn't hear the guard coming, but something in her senses picked out the fact that there was someone approaching. She hunkered down the back of her cell, poised, ready - her black eyes were bottomless, her pale teeth exposed as her lips were pulled back in a snarl. She had resolutely refused to eat the last tray of food they put down but now she was starving. Awful Roman food... The doll was held in her hand, her fingers wrapped around the soft body where she could feel the solid presence of the knife she had hidden there. Her blonde hair was a little damp from the drips that fell from the cell ceiling, but overall she was alot cleaner now than she had been when in the other cell. The cut on her cheek hurt though, from when the man had hit her. It felt a bit puffy, swollen, and very tender to touch. Once she got out of here though, once she found the man who killed Donnchadh and killed him in revenge, she could get back to Merlin and Juna could fix it for her. There was movement - the cell door clanged, vibrating along the ground to Eala's feet. She shifted her position, becmoing ready to attack - hissing and digging her heels into the ground, her back pressed against the wall, glaring at the figure in the doorway. And then something else happened. Eala saw movement, more movement, and she perked up a little, fear forgotten in curiosity. The man grew bigger and sprouted extra arms for the briefest moment before he sunk to the ground and twitched lifelessly. In his place there was ... a hand. Eala gave a grunt of protest as she was hauled out of her cell. Immediately thinking the worse she scrambled to reach the knife at her thigh but had no need to. Once she got a noseful of the man holding her head to his chest she knew who it was. Her eyes filled with tears suddenly and her arms clapped around his waist. Eala gave a small, sharp grunt of pain at stretching her recently dislocated shoulder outwards and felt the hand on the back of her head, coaxing her face to turn upwards. She did and smiled at Ash brightly. She bounced on her heels a little, reaching up with her two hands to touch his muck-streaked face in delight, to make sure he was real for real. Feeling the bristle beneath her palm Eala gave a delighted chatter of her tongue, making non-sensical, whispering sounds.
Hurry... She understood that. Eala nodded, composing herself into the tough little cookie that she was. She dashed into the cell and grabbed the doll, gave Ash a warning look, then a shake of her head as she gestured with the doll, indicating that it had a purpose. And with that she pulled the head off of the thing to reveal the pointy end of a knife. A vicious smile lit her face and she popped the doll's head back on, tucked it under her arm and reached for Ash's hand. Blinking rapidly at the light that was coming from outside as they moved down the corridors towards the exit, Eala found herself shying back a little more than usual, wary, cautious - over-cautious even. She kept creeping backwards until finally she was behind Ash, a hand clutching a fistful of his tunic at the back and her head peering around his side at the grey clouds outside. The two dashed otu into the open air and went back on themselves, running quickly, silently, down behind the dungeons towards the walls of Badon - but they only got so far before Eala realised what was happening. He was leaving the fortress? But she hadn't found the man that killed her brother! Giving a gasp of realisation, Eala skidded to a halt and shook her head, backing away from Ash, staring up at him. She grunted, pointing back towards the fortress and then made a movement with her thumb across her neck. "D.. nnn! aww Dnnn!" she tried to speak her brother's name, her mouth making the right shapes but her vocal chords not quite hitting the right notes. Tears springing to her eyes filled in what her voice could not though. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 29 2010, 09:56 PM Post #214 |
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Author: TwistOfShadows Date: Mon Jun 23, 2008 6:38 am Ceinwyn and Nolan Nolan was ready, and his stance spoke volumes. He was a tall man, taller than most, and it was his height that commanded attention within his chosen warriors. His green eyes were on fire in the dull light, gleaming in the shadows and alive with threat and promise. Their enemy would not witness mercy now, they had had their moment. Did Merlin wish them to talk…or to die? It was a strange confliction of motives, but Nolan hoped for the latter. He was hungry for bloodshed, for vengeance. They had lost warriors, good warriors, and the rest? Oh, but they were injured and tired, and the Romans clearly sought to attack them unawares. Indeed, the thought almost made the Woad laugh aloud. Stealth and disguise were not Roman traits. How could they hide amongst the trees…when they glittered so prominently with gold armour? Vanity ruled them, and empty religion. Let them die for it… And as for Ceinwyn? The woman would not have it easy; she would suffer alongside her kin…for this mission would not be easy. They were all tired, he only hoped for adrenaline. And he knew it would come…
Nolan nodded succinctly. He drew strength from Merlin’s touch, and once Ceinwyn had answered her Elder? Nolan placed a heady hand upon her shoulder, and pushed her roughly into the group of warriors. She would not stand alone anymore; she would stand strongly as a unit…or not at all. His dark eyes sought hers, and he did not speak. He rather looked at her with intent, vehemence. She would behave this time, or die with the traitor… “We go South,” he spoke roughly. “Cover the tracks, and keep a weather eye for horses…” Nolan did not wait for acknowledgement. He gripped the nearest tree, curling his strong fingers around a burly branch…and swung himself upwards into the foliage. Ceinwyn spied her chance. Walking alone amongst the Woads, she listened for something, anything, to proffer an opportunity…and the scout? Oh, she had spun on her heels and approached without regards to authority. She knew that Nolan disliked her, it was not so hard to comprehend, but she cared little for his opinion. The military leader had not been taken hostage by Arthur and his Sarmatians, and Ceinwyn had. That pronounced her more experienced, and she would use it to her advantage. She had volunteered herself without hesitation…and if Nolan had dared to refuse her? She would have followed anyway, because she saw a clear pathway to her redemption. Who was Nolan to deny such a chance? The Woad could tolerate his blunt nature. It did not disarm her, not at all. She would be obedient to his word, and serve Merlin well. She was born for this duty. A slow smile slipped across her feline lips as Nolan spoke. The military lieutenant did not turn round, nor did he truly acknowledge her…but it was enough. She would prove his distrust obsolete, she was sure of it. Unbeknownst to her, she had tightened her fingers around her bone dagger, immediately prepared for any attack, any order…and that same adrenaline flowed through her veins. She had not felt it for a long time, and it suited her well. Her green eyes burnt with a more vehement luster, and she no longer appeared quite so…irrational. She lifted her chin defiantly, and approached the other warriors. She drew strength from them, she felt…strong. Who was their enemy? Roman or slave? Both, and Ceinwyn would confront them fearlessly. Her mind had grown harder with time, and her fears had been quelled by the intensity of her regrets. The Woad would prove herself, and no one would question her again. No-one. The woman watched Nolan and Merlin converse, and she listened hard. She was interested, very interested…
Patience? It had not served her well in the past, but Merlin was wise. The woman met his frown with an inclination of her head, acknowledging his words. She would not argue. Nolan would not have chosen her if she’d remained in silence, she was sure of it…but she had her chance, her opportunity, and she was too smart to lose it with wayward words. Ceinwyn had a renound talent for speaking out of turn, but not this time. This time, she would behave…until her next opportunity presented itself… “Then let patience guide me…” It was a simple answer, but not entirely honest. The woman looked to her Elder, her eyes gleaming in the dull light, and raked her matted hair from her forehead. She felt the muddy strands stick to her fingers, felt the twigs scattered throughout each curl. Indeed, she was a frightening sight…but she cared not. Her lips wore an easy smile, but it was filled with intent and promise. It looked half maddened. Ceinwyn was ready for this… |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 29 2010, 09:58 PM Post #215 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Mon Jun 23, 2008 8:48 am Linnesse
“All right- thank you,” Linnesse answered him, nodding, but feeling a little shell-shocked by what had just happened. She knew this was a difficult time for Linnette- it couldn’t be otherwise- but her volatile, constantly changing moods were not what Linnesse had been expecting, and she felt a sense of inability to deal with this, inability to help her sister, growing. She should be doing something differently- but how? And what? What were those bandages on her hands for, and why was Drake practically stalking her around the fort? Linnesse felt that as Linnette’s sister and only relative now, she should know the answers to those questions, should be the one closest to her who knew her heart- and yet she didn’t. Linnette preferred to go sit on walls in the rain and stomp out of taverns rather than confide in her. It didn’t make any sense- and it hurt. Still, Drake knew where this room was, and who to tell that they wanted it, so it made sense to accept his help for now, at least in that. Linnesse felt a tiredness creeping up on her, too, which while not as bad as it had been that morning in the chapel, let her know that she would not be up for heavy work this day, much as her efforts might be needed. She would do as much as she could, of course, but that might extend to not much more than packing clothes and other small items. She sighed frustratedly, looking up at Derfel as Drake left the tavern. So much to do- and her treacherous body to weak with illness to do it. “I worry about her,” Linnesse exclaimed anxiously, her eyes wide and her mouth twisted with the uncertainty of it. “She’s so…so…I don’t know…isolated! She doesn’t even seem to want to talk to me!” She and her sister had had their spats as children, of course, but as adults, any disagreement between them had been quickly mended. Linnesse couldn’t recall ever feeling such distance from her sister, at least not when she was around. Even when Linnette had been trying to convince her that Derfel was only after her money, it hadn’t felt like this! Linnesse heaved another anxious sigh and turned toward her bowl of stew, unable to resist filling her stomach with another bite- but though it satisfied her hunger, it did nothing for the worry and fear- yes, fear- that she felt right now. Linnette Linnette stomped across the courtyard, her head down, her eyes on the flagstones, not wanting any company or notice at this time. She pushed herself to take long strides, Gedeon-sized strides, long steps that ate the ground between her and her room, where she could at least be alone for a while. Her anger was irrational- she wasn’t even sure what she was angry at, unless it was once again the sheer unfairness of the whole situation. She didn’t want to have to do this! She didn’t want to have to move, and frankly, she didn’t want to have to move in with Linnesse and Derfel either! But even less did she want to go and protest the whole necessity of it, so it looked like there was no choice. She wasn’t going back to Arthur again. So this would happen- it just would. Her room seemed, once again, empty and desolate when she reached it, despite the fact that all her and Gedeon’s things were there. Just the thought that the other inhabitant of the place would never come back was enough to totally change the character of the place, turn it from a cozy home to a trap. On second thought, maybe it was better if she moved. She didn’t think she could bear another night spent alone here- the first had been torture. But still, the idea that this room which Gedeon had occupied since he first came to the fort would now be turned over to others, others who perhaps had never known Gedeon, and all trace and memory of him here would be removed- it was a heartbreaking thing. But keeping the room exactly as it was and yet not sleeping here was hardly an option, either. She started on the easiest part of it- her own clothing. That was simple and neutral and easy enough to throw into a bag that she had. She pushed Gedeon’s saddlebags- still occupying the bed- a bit over to the side to make room, but otherwise, she did not touch anything of Gedeon’s as yet. She was truthfully afraid she’d start crying again if she did. So she stuck to her own things for now, folding dresses and shifts and putting them in a bag, and thinking that she’d roll up the tapestry on the wall next. Anything to avoid for just a while her husband’s things- maybe later, when she was feeling just at tiny bit better, it would be easier. Quintus Until now, it had been an uneventful day in the dungeons. However, it wasn’t to stay that way for long. Centurion Quintus was in the deepest part of the cells, inspecting the guard post down there, when a sound from above caught his ears. It wasn’t a loud sound- in fact it was hard to say why it alarmed him at all. It was a thump, of something hitting the wall, perhaps, and then another, slightly louder one, accompanied by a metallic clang, but both muffled by distance up the corridor. It could have been that someone had simply dropped something. But nevertheless, something about it pricked up Quintus’s suspicions. He turned from the guard post and jogged up the corridor without another word, to find that he had been quite right in thinking something wrong. The door of one of the cells- the little Woad girl’s cell, in fact- was ajar, and the guard who had been delivering the food lay just outside it, his tray and the gruel and bread intended for the girl spilled on the floor. The man’s throat was slit from ear to ear, his blood puddling in the cracks between the flagstones with the gruel. “Guards!” Quintus roared, charging immediately up the corridor towards the entrance. Damn Woad bitch! She must have hidden something sharp, then surprised the man when he opened her cell to bring her food. She should have been chained! Shackled so she couldn’t even move! She was no child, she was a devil! In the corridor below Quintus there was a commotion as the guards from down there hurried to join him, but surely the guards at the dungeon entrance would stop her- right? Quintus was counting on that, but when he reached the entrance to the courtyard, he was horrified to discover that neither of them were even there. Fucking idiots! He would flay them within an inch of their miserable lives for leaving their posts! Quintus charged out into the courtyard, scanning the area and yelling for backup. “Guards! Prisoner escape! Where the fuck are you? Get your asses out here!” The Centurion dashed around the nearest corner of the dungeon building- but the murderous little bitch was nowhere in sight. Where could she have gone? |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 29 2010, 09:59 PM Post #216 |
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Author: Starbelle Date: Mon Jun 23, 2008 10:46 am Tatiana Between the warmth of the water and the gentleness of his fingers as Adian bathed her, Tatiana began to relax drowsily in the bath, seemingly to let her cares float away with the water. Tensing slightly, just minute muscle twitches really, when his soap-coated fingers glided unknowingly over her ticklish areas, then relaxing again until a pitcher full of water was poured over her rinsing the soap away. Awakening the shivers and goose-bumps of another kind on her skin until he placed the empty pitcher down with a smile. "Wow, Adian. That was fun. I really enjoyed that, very much. Thank you." She replied polietly but with a grin on her face.
Alright, this'll be fun. Tatiana commented to herself, as her eyes sparkled with playful mischief once more as she picked up the wash cloth and getting it wet, went behind him with it to wash off his back gently. Picking up the soap, she rubbed her hands with it until suds appeared to cover her small hands then placed it down in the water. Standing on tip-toes, she was able to reach his shoulders with her hands and gave him a massage first from the back of his neck underneath his short black hair to his shoulders to help relax him, like he did her. Working her way down his back in a massage-like touch until she came across his sides and playfully,very playfully, tickled him, her tiny fingers sliping into tickle spots along the way then went back to the washing part. Getting the pitcher, Tatiana, after filling it, again stood on tip-toes to rinse his neck and back free of the suds. This she did one more time to make sure that all of the soap was completly washed off. Once she was sure that all of the suds were gone, she replaced the pitcher. "There you go, Adian. All done. I had fun doing that, too." She said with an impish grin as she came swimming out from behind him. With beads of water glistening in her hair from the sunlight looking for all the world like crystals as they glittered there among the strands of her coppery hair. I hope that he didn't mind my being playful with him while doing his back |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 29 2010, 10:01 PM Post #217 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Mon Jun 23, 2008 11:20 am Arthur The seductress – the harlot - displayed her wiles yet again as Eyla leaned in closer to Arthur. She had patted his hand and casually toyed with her hair as he spoke to her offering innocence that he knew she lacked. Eyla was the Devil in human form if Arthur were to believe his own Christian teachings. But he refused to see the harlot for all that she truly was. Arthur always sought out the good in every soul he met. He had certainly found it in Lancelot in those quiet private moments when the other man had actually let his guard down for Arthur. Lancelot. If anyone could wield the power of seduction over Artorius Castus….it was Lancelot ap Ban. But it was not Lancelot that leaned invitingly over Arthur now…it was not Lancelot’s warm breath that feathered over Arthur’s stubbled face, or Lancelot’s sword-calloused fingers that grasped at Arthur’s rough hand. It was not even Darya, whom had given Arthur her heart and the one woman that the Roman had kept in his bed regularly in recent times. Emerald eyes briefly flickered to the rim of Eyla’s tightly fitted bodice. Had he not been in so much discomfort and suffering such fatigue, Eyla might have been more successful in arousing the Roman.
I want to know, but not at the cost of my soul or my pride. Eyla’s lips were ever so close to Arthur’s mouth now; parted and plump and shimmering red in the firelight. The commander could taste her right at this very moment if he had chosen to yield to her in this game of seduction. Liquid green eyes looked up at Eyla’s soft and alluring expression, yet Arthur’s face reflected a placid façade. The steady ache in his side kept his body focused on pain not pleasure.
Arthur made a small nonsensical sound of amusement at her continued baiting. His gaze followed hers as her dark eyes flickered towards the lower half of his body. What did she expect to see there? Did she hope for a visual confirmation that she had succeeded in arousing the man? There was none as Arthur was still in far too much discomfort to allow a handful of suggestive words from a harlot arouse him right now. Or so he thought. But as Eyla pressed a fingernail into the side of Arthur’s hand and allowed her full mouth to part even more invitingly within a breaths width of his….the zing of desire did finally fly up the Roman’s spine. He immediately fought the urge to take what she offered and as if God himself looked down upon Arthur in his moment of weakness….Eyla suddenly pulled away as if His hand had separated the two and spared Arthur from the failure in his emotional armor just now.
“My technique?” Arthur groused; his emerald eyes flickered with an intensity that gave a hint to the passion that resided deep within his soul. But that passion was not for Eyla despite how alluring and sensual she appeared for Arthur. She was not in the Roman’s heart and taking her would only complicate an already sinful existence in this life. “You refuse to answer my question unless I what? Kiss you now?” Arthur commented rather sardonically his green eyes slightly narrowed at Eyla perhaps showing a bit of impatience at her refusal to answer his direct question. He wanted to know her motives here. Truly. If only to keep his mind distracted from heavier thoughts…especially from the one who could so easily succeed in a game of seduction with Arthur. “And then what? Hm?” Arthur continued; his thick fingers applying pressure around her tiny hand as he spoke. “I want better for you, Eyla,” He finished and softened his grip on her hand. Arthur would not take away this woman’s dignity in revenge of what he’d lost of his own with Lancelot and with Darya. No. Find yourself another whore for the night. Arthur pushed himself up into a sitting position with his left hand, allowing Eyla to continue possessing his right. The movement of course brought on a wave of pain from his wounded side. Arthur briefly grimaced and glanced down at his black tunic as if expecting to see his own blood soaking the material again. But no indication of serious damage was visible. “Enough of this game, hm? Tell me why you persist with it,” Arthur insisted while attempting to find a comfortable position on the bed again. He silently cursed his wound and weakened physical state. His mind also went to the Optio and the mission of peace he’d sent Scipio on this morning. A mission that Arthur himself should have taken care of with Merlin. The lines across Arthur’s brow deepened as his thoughts turned once more to more serious matters than Eyla’s games of seduction. Had that brief twinge of ‘want’ truly fled? Arthur prayed it had. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 29 2010, 10:02 PM Post #218 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Mon Jun 23, 2008 11:32 am Merlin
“Good.” Merlin grunted an acknowledgement as Nolan- and Ceinwyn now with his group- moved off. He trusted Nolan’s judgment- if he wanted Ceinwyn with him then she could go. If there was any disobedience on her part he would deal with it later- but it looked like things had been solved much faster than he had expected. And she was able-bodied, if filthy. She would do fine. Merlin turned back towards Juna now, making his way against the tide of hurrying Woads to reach her. She still stood stock still, in the middle of the path, not moving, waiting for him, and Merlin once more felt worry and frustration stab at his middle. She shouldn’t be hanging around like this! “Juna…four men have ridden from the fort to the camp, and they have Neeria with them. You must hurry,” he frowned at her, his face stern out of worry; he was unable to understand why she was still just standing here. He suddenly wanted her out of danger with an urgency that was strong enough to stick in his throat! |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 29 2010, 10:03 PM Post #219 |
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Author: Darya Date: Mon Jun 23, 2008 12:21 pm Neeve
At first, Neeve just listened closely to the brief exchange between Vanora and Gawain. It was always good to know when someone new had arrived at Badon Hill. Especially if that someone was a soldier or a knight as chances were usually high that the healer would sooner or later have to deal with that person in the infirmary. So now she had a new name…and it was only a matter of time until she would have the face to the name. However, when Gawain then addressed her directly, the raven-haired woman breathed a laugh at his words and lifted a hand to briefly pat the Sarmatian’s shoulder. “Ah, it’s a shame I missed that…”, Neeve replied and gave the knight a wry smile, “…I’m glad to see Lavinia left you alive though…” Then the Briton became serious and met Gawain’s light gaze with her own. “But if you want to have a look at your arm, too…let me know, okay?”, she added and the expression in her eyes clearly told the man that she meant what she was saying. He would perhaps have to wait for a bit as Arthur still was Neeve’s major concern…but she would check on Gawain’s injury as well if he wished it… But before Neeve could say more, loud noises and a male’s voice shouting something distracted her from her current conversation. The healer’s head whipped around and she spotted Galahad sprawled on the floor and Alina leaning over the table, apparently trying to help the young knight. Neeve furrowed her brow and glanced sideways at Gawain, who was Galahad’s best friend and therewith probably knew what the commotion was about. From what she saw, the young Sarmatian was drunk…and obviously upset about something. Neeve shook her head and turned back at Vanora and Gawain, idly scratching the back of her neck as she did so…
“Hm?”, the healer uttered and then saw Gawain motioning towards the basket of food in front of her. “Oh that…well, actually…you can…”, Neeve said, almost glad that Gawain mentioned the very thing she had come here for. By the Gods, she was late…and poor Arthur probably already starving. “We should hurry and deliver this before it gets cold…”, the woman added and gave Vanora an almost apologetic glance for this meant, that she and Gawain would take their leave now… |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 29 2010, 10:04 PM Post #220 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Mon Jun 23, 2008 12:24 pm Amadeus Malcus had come to join them. Amadeus did not look at him, his grey eyes focussed on the man that Tristan now ungagged. The sense of power over this life was immense. With one flick of his hand Amadeus could have that man dead and with no blood on his hand. Oh it was not teh first time that Amadeus would order a man dead and have no blood upon his hands, but this time it was different... this time it was not done in secret. Ungagged, the woad spat on the ground and looked around with large, hateful eyes. He seemed to sense who was in charge and let his hostile eyes rest on Amadeus who stood unmoving, a knowing smirk upon his thin lips. His eyebrows rose marginally when the man stared at him, recognising him as the leader. "Where is Merlin?" the Optio asked in a simple tone of voice, his words slow and deliberate, as if he were talking to a child. There was no reaction other than a harder glare. Amadeus' smirk became lopsided. He glanced at Malcus and then at Tristan before shifting his feet and narrowing his grey eyes at teh woad. "Last chance. Where. Is. Merlin?" the grey eyed male asked. The woad spat on his boots which made Amadeus stagger a step backwards in disgust, his lip pulled upwards in a sneer. He scoffed and then gave an irritated growl, looking balefully at the woad as he ordered Tristan with a gesture of his hand - "Kill him. Ungag the next one." he said snippily, displeased but hopeful that the sight of his dead comrade might coax the next woad into talking. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 29 2010, 10:05 PM Post #221 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Mon Jun 23, 2008 12:51 pm Derfel Derfel had nodded in agreement as Linnette requested Drake go inform whomever about the rooms. He would not argue with her on who should do what…not right now at any rate. But curious still was this friendship with the older man that Derfel had somehow missed….had Gedeon known the Spaniard better? Perhaps that was why Linnette was so ‘friendly’ with the man now. The knight exchanged a brief nod in acknowledgement with Drake. Derfel was about to dismiss his own thoughts on that matter when Galahad’s agitated voice broke out from across the tavern. He turned to see if his fellow knight and friend needed some back up over something…and he then noticed Gawain and Neeve close at hand as well. Derfel frowned a bit but assumed Gawain would have the younger knight well in hand if need be. And for all Derfel knew, Galahad was only acting out on the losses they had suffered and residule exhaustion from the mission.
Derfel watched Linnette walk away, the worry lines in his forehead deepening as he thought she should not be alone. Obviously, packing her husband’s belongings would be upsetting and Derfel did wish to spare the woman any unnecessary pains. At least Drake knew the location of these new rooms and they should be easy enough to find from his description…Derfel certainly knew lodgings existed behind and above the kitchens here. It would be odd though….not having his own lodgings in among the rest of the knights. But this was for the best for Linnesse and her sister. He finally turned back to the bar as Linnesse spoke again. The knight had noted Drake back away, but assumed the Spaniard was off to duty of some sort.
Derfel’s expression immediately softened as he looked down into Linnesse’s bewildered eyes. She looked tired overall too. Derfel slipped an arm supportively ‘round Linnesse’s tiny waist and shifted to press his side snuggly against her. “Go on and finish your meal, luv. We’ll see to her when your done…find the rooms and then figure out what best to do next…perhaps get your sister settled in before we move our own things?” Derfel suggested and then pressed a small kiss to Linnesse’s furrowed brow. He was concerned that his lover might need to rest a bit this afternoon. He could get Lucius to help him move Linnette’s things first while Linnesse napped…then get his own things later. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 29 2010, 10:07 PM Post #222 |
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Author: TwistOfShadows Date: Mon Jun 23, 2008 3:36 pm Eyla Eyla did not claim to be the devil incarnate, but would have loved the description. Yes, she was the Queen of Sins, and everything she believed was so wickedly mischievous and frowned upon. It was simply delightful! And the harlot strove for nothing else. These games kept the blood flowing in her veins, and retained that dark sparkle in her pretty eyes. She was Beauty, and Beauty was her weapon. She had been born to be admired, loved and lusted for…and why not get paid for such a service? When she had been a simple chambermaid in her younger years, she had dressed modestly and been shy and reserved to everyone. And now? Oh, there was nothing shy and reserved about her full bosom on display, or the way she lingered close to Arthur’s lips…tempting him to taste what she offered. Heaven. With one kiss, Eyla promised to make all the pain and worry go away…and she could do it. She was sure of it. Just let him submit… Artorius retained a firm defense against her charms, but it only encouraged Eyla further. The Roman could deny himself the pleasures of the flesh, but surely he wanted it? Surely he could not send her away for seeking to pleasure him? The woman looked to the deep frown lines on his forehead, the stressed tension of his soft mouth. Indeed, the Roman took life too seriously, and it was not healthy. Did he find solace in being permanently edgy? Troubled? Eyla fancied that he needed a distraction, and one that brought no complications.
Artorius’ green eyes flared with a renewed vigour, and Eyla blinked lazily at him. Her thick lashes brushed her cheekbones, and she smiled at his words. Yes, his techniques. Everyone has techniques, despite their claims of innocence and honesty. Everyone knew how to appeal to another, everyone could manipulate their words to achieve the answers they sought. Indeed, Eyla was quite adept at manipulation and seduction, and she rarely witnessed it in others, but Artorius? The Roman sought something from her, but she was not sure what exactly. He was apparently more interested in conversation, than the delights of the flesh…but why?
His grip had tightened around the woman’s wrist, and then loosened softly, then released. Indeed, Eyla was no stranger to his touch…she had felt him before, and knew him to be a demanding lover. But now? He wanted better for her? The Roman did not truly know her, and she doubted he wanted to. Eyla pouted her lips at his words, but there was a flash of annoyance in the depth of her dark eyes. She laughed softly, but it was a heartless sound. Eyla was not sure what she wanted from him, business or simply pleasure? Both seemed agreeable, but Arthur continued to probe her for personal answers. She was not willing to give them, not at all. The woman turned away and glanced towards the fire. She feigned boredom, yawning dramatically and shifting in her seat. Reaching up into her thick hair, she toyed with the curls…and then heard the Roman move beside her. She turned slowly, just in time to see him grimace. Indeed, the man was injured…surely that was reason enough to seek distraction? Eyla tutted at him, and a small frown marred her delicate forehead.
Eyla recognized the passion in his eyes, but he was a passionate man, no? The whore knew there were matters in Badon that were far beyond her comprehension, but she was intrigued. The flash of emerald in his gaze was comforting, because it matched the sparkling dazzle of hers. The Roman simply needed to rest, and he would be fine with time. Time was a healer, Time was comforting. Indeed, Eyla had matured graciously since her days of naivety. She thanked her mother’s cruel and disloyal nature for her current state of happiness. She had learnt to be content, to be talented and needed. She wanted for nothing else. Eyla wrapped her finger into a thick and lustrous curl, and brought it down over her delicate shoulder. Her dark hair emphasized the golden tan of her skin, and the shadows of the fire danced across her full bosom. She smiled coltishly. “I persist because you are unhappy.” It was a blunt truth, but spoken with a soft and melodious sweetness. Eyla did not seek to upset him, nor speak everything that she assumed about his sadness, but she would not appear stupid either. The woman shrugged her shoulders, and tipped her head to the side, still playing with the dark curl. Her dark eyes watched him intently, seeking a reaction. She spoke again. “It is not so obvious to most, but I can read it well in you, Artorius. I offer you a night of pleasure because I believe I can make you smile…” She paused, smiling for effect. It was a sweet thing, almost childish. “…Or I could simply make you forget what causes that deep frown of yours. You are too handsome for frowning…hmm…” Eyla sighed audibly, and turned away from the Roman. She looked to the fire, smiling to herself… |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 29 2010, 10:09 PM Post #223 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Mon Jun 23, 2008 3:40 pm Drake Drake left the tavern and felt a wash of relief flood through him. He glanced back over his shoulder once - wondering why he had felt so awkward with Linnesse and Derfel alone. He knew that they questionned his 'interference' with Linnette but he was not willing to put forward anything that would assuage their suspicions. It was not his place. He didn't have a clue what he was to Linnette. He could say 'bodyguard' but it sounded a rather grand title considering he was not employed by anyone to guard her and the fact that she didn't actually need a bodyguard. Rolling his green eyes, Drake shrugged his cloak about his shoulders a bit higher and glanced towards the infirmary. He would have to check on the two girls eventually. A guilty look over his shoulder... He should really go make sure that Alina was ok. Frustrated, Drake lifted a balled fist to the centre of his forehead and almost wished that they were under attack again and he had all of them in a room together under his eyes. With an irritated harumph, the Spaniard headed off into the main courtyard. He gave a start when he saw a man running about, shouting that a prisoner had escaped. Drake tensed immediately... A prisoner escaped? Recently? Where was Linnette? Without a thought to help out, Drake broke into a sprint across the mushy courtyard, remarkably steady on his feet considering the bad condition of the ground. He shoved open the door and tried to calm himself to a brisk walk as he stalked the corridors, winding down to the Knight's quarters. He saw the door open and his fingers flexed, hand reaching towards his sword. Slowly he aproached the open door, ever so slowly he pressed himself against the far wall and inched to the side, looking in to see her ... safe. Drake sagged against the wall, his head bopping back against the stone with a muttered curse under his breath. He was getting too old for this. Shaking his head, the Spaniard shoved off from the wall and continued the other direction, going up one flight of stone steps and back to where his own room was. He went to the room next door adn sighed, pushing it open. Just as he did the boy from earlier came by with a stack of firewood. Drake grabbed him by the back of the tunic. "That'll do in here boy." he said brusquely. The boy, Arland, gave a grimace and nodded his head. "So she's taking this one then?" he asked. Drake gave him a look that warned him not to ask too many questions and when the boy visibly shrunk before him, he gave a stiff nod. Arland swallowed roughly, deposited the firewood on the ground by teh fire and backed out of the room, wiping his hands. "I'll mark it down as taken then, Sir." he said. Drake nodded and set about making a fire. Once he had it all ready to go, he propped the door open with one log, took a torch from the wall outside and set the fire ablaze. Looking around the room, he glanced towards the wall that adjoined his room and raked a hand back over the top of his head. Shrugging helplessly, Drake left the room and made his way slowly back down to where Linnette was, not wanting to intrude but willing to help with... whatever. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 29 2010, 10:09 PM Post #224 |
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Author: sabor ice Date: Mon Jun 23, 2008 3:41 pm Alina
So that was it then, was it? She had bucked up and told him the truth and tried to apologize. He had reacted the way she had anticipated, with anger and betrayal in his right. He had said his piece, and now he was leaving. She was left standing there alone. Alina looked very small, very hurt by his ridicule and the way he so blatantly dismissed her. She noticed Drake from the corners of her eyes as he moved to make leave the tavern, but did not have the mind nor heart to meet his gaze now. She averted her gaze as Galahad staggered toward the door, questioning her own motives for having even told him in the first place. It had really all been for her benefit, had it not? To bleed out the guilt would clear her conscience, and set her free, right? The truth had done more damage in a few short minutes than a lie might've done over the course of a lifetime. Everything was suddenly in pieces, falling apart all around her, and Alina had not the power to stop the hellish wheel in motion. Narrowed sorrowful brown eyes watched as Galahad reached the door. Perhaps it was selfish of her to not just let him go, but the time they had spent together she was not liable to forget so easily. The love they had shared was something Alina was not ready to sacrifice. Logically, the only option she had was to go after him. He may have thought it was over, but she wasn't ready to accept it. Not yet. The sight of Galahad stumbling to get outside was utterly miserable. Her back straightened, her shoulders squaring resolutely. Alina breathed in and released a deep sigh, conjuring up the courage to finally follow him. "We're not done talking, Galahad," Alina called after him, bravely reaching out to touch his shoulder. The worst he could do was force her hand again. "We can talk about this." |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 29 2010, 10:11 PM Post #225 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Mon Jun 23, 2008 4:18 pm Kolya and Galahad He could try to avoid it all day if he wanted to, but frankly, Kolya was bored shitless. He wanted a drink and he was tired of pretending that he was the kind of man that gave up booze. He didn't. It was all he had in this miserable existance since Rome's claws had retracted from his hide. Pathetic as it was, he missed the life of a knight. He missed the camaraderie. He missed the bond between himself and other human beings, a real bond. Not one inspired by his negative emotions. The rain had stopped so he ventured out into it, heading towards the tavern intent on getting blathered once he won a bit of coin from someone. His tunic was still wet from earlier, his boots sodden - but he sloshed through the courtyard, unbeknownst to him, just missing Drake. That would have made a fine meeting! The Sarmatian glanced up at the sky, eyeballing the thick clouds that promised more rain - but for now it had let up. Thankfully. There was only so much rain one man could stomach before he lost his will to live! Head down, the former Knight, walked out into the courtyard. He looked up when he heard a commotion, his blue eyes following a guard as he shouted about a prisoner on the loose. Idiots! Kolya thought, rolling his eyes. Just when they were under threat of attack from woads they were letting prisoners loose. Not for one minute did he consider helping out in finding said prisoner as he made his way over to the far side of the courtyard to the tavern. He rounded the post and pushed open the door just as Galahad got to it. Two pairs of blue eyes widened and two sets of dark eyebrows shot up in surprise. Kolya recovered first, a flash of white teeth marking a broad grin. He glanced over the Knight's shoulder and saw Alina. "Hello love.." he chirped. Galahad saw red and growled. He lurched forward, aiming a fist at Kolya's jaw, missed and went sprawling over the man's shoulder. The older Sarmatian was startled at teh response - he caught the younger male and laughed roughly, looking over at Alina with a sparkle in his blue eyes. "I guess this means he knows then eh?" he asked with a grunt as he heaved Galahad away from him. He narrowed his eyes at the obviously drunk Knight, lifting a warning finger. "Now, lad, listen..." he began. Galahad felt tears spring to his eyes, frustration and hurt and embarrassment. He growled and launched himself at Kolya again... |
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