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| June 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 23 2010, 07:18 PM (3,694 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | Mar 30 2010, 10:09 PM Post #241 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Tue Jun 24, 2008 10:57 am Saoirse Saoirse had thought she was spared Lancelot's tongue but instead of going along his merry way, he turned to eyeball her again. The red head glowered at him, noting, with a twist in her already tight stomach, the wry grin that he wore, that he only wore when he was intent on bloody annoying the hell out of people!
The red head snorted at his comment, snuggling in tighter to Dagonet, closing her blue eyes as she felt him settle a little next to her. His arm came up around her waist, comforting, claiming. "Well ye bloody are then." she murmured, knowing the dark Knight was gone but finding the need to comment on it nonetheless. It was almost possible to ignore the devilish glare that was burning into her head where Bors was watching them. The Irish woman didn't want to think about why he was so annoyed with her, why he was so distrusting. Not when she was just finished crying, when she had just gotten a hold of her emotions to the point where she might not break down and cry when Dagonet needed her strong. "Dag...?" Saoirse whispered after a while, tipping her head back so that her nose brushed against his ear loeb, her eyes still shut. "Wha's wrong wi' Bors?" she asked suspiciously. Amadeus The man did it! Amadeus watched as Tristan let the blade slide along the woad's neck and the body slumped to the ground. Startled, wide blue eyes looked accusingly at the Optio as he gurgled and then those eyes went dead. The Optio was not entirely surprised that Tristan had done as he was told, but there was a new found respect in the Roman for the Sarmatian - as one might expect a particularly sharp blade. Not human to human respect... human to tool respect. He moved to the next woad and ungagged him without hesitation. Amadeus lifted his chin, ready to ask the same question of this man. He was uncaring of whether or not the man gave him the right answer or not... There was a sound, an entirely odd sound, from high up and then there were a variety of distinct thuds. Chaos broke out from outside the hut. Amadeus had his sword in his hand immediately and he whirled around. But he whipped his head back , gesturing to Tristan - "Kill them all!" he croaked, gesturing then to the woads, not wanting to have the enemy to their backs whilst facing whatever it was outside, no doubt, more woads. A damn trap! A damn, blasted trap and that whore woad that sat upon Tristan's horse would damn well pay for this treachery!!! Amadeus was not the most skilled in teh world with a sword... well, that was deceptive. He looked skilled with a sword but the actual use of it, connecting all the right moves with a body in front of him was the hard part. He was capable, however. Narrowed grey eyes looked to the entrance of the hut and he gestured for Barbattus to get to the side of the door - so that the two of them flanked the door. The Optio looked back over his shoulder towards Tristan to ensure he had done the job. "Keep one!!" he urged, "We will use it to barter." the Optio growled, peering out to see Woads falling from the trees like leaves. The traitorous wretch woman had been dragged from her horse, leaving Mordred alone - "Peace!" he called out in a hoarse voice, hoping it carried over the noise of woad battle cries. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 30 2010, 10:10 PM Post #242 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Tue Jun 24, 2008 11:26 am Arthur A glimmer of light momentarily blinded Arthur as the golden bangle Eyla wore caught and reflected the flames in the hearth. Had he somehow paid for the rather valuable trinket or had some other rich patron provided it? At least Arthur was confident that Lancelot could not afford such a generous gift….however, surely the dark knight had found the opportunity to conquer Eyla before now. Had the two men shared more than Darya that night? Once again dark thoughts threatened to dominate Arthur’s mind, yet his expression remained unreadable….with the exception of the tiny upward curl of his lip as he continued to admire Eyla’s beauty. Distraction…such a sweet and engaging distraction.
Arthur’s smile widened at her confessions. He noted the gentle way Eyla now looked at him, as if this were no longer part of her game at all but an honest moment between them. Yet, he had not allowed his guard to drop…not for anyone anymore. Arthur’s gaze flickered from Eyla’s tender eyes to the long soft ringlets of her hair as it cascaded over her bare shoulder. Oh what a sight she was.
“As opposed to what? A jovial commander?” Arthur snorted a laugh at her description of him and slightly shook his head. Yes, he was serious because his position and rank required – no, demanded it. Arthur was a highly respected and noble man, whether he actually believed that about himself or not. Yet that humble demeanor and self flagellation had a great deal to do with how Arthur had earned the respect of those that served under him. Unfortunately, the laugh that had trembled Arthur’s chest stirred at his stitches again and brought on another twinge of pain. He reached to carefully cover the wound with his left hand and gently inhaled against the discomfort. His stomach ached with hunger and a headache began to make itself known. Rest, Arthur needed rest in order to recover. “I aspired to follow in my father’s footsteps…devote my life to the defense and protection of those in need of it. I am a soldier of Rome and driven to do as the Emperor commands and to what God may ask of me,” Arthur finally answered in earnest; his green eyes reflecting the devotion of his words as he spoke. He had the good sense to divert his gaze from Eyla’s well formed bosom and back towards the flames in the hearth as he had answered the question. Eyla represented sin and decadence…things that Arthur had been taught to shun in his life. Yet as he continued to hold her delicate fingers in his larger craggy hand, Arthur found himself glad for the harlot’s company. And had his private life not been the maelstrom that it was, perhaps Arthur would be more receptive to what Eyla had to offer. Lancelot appeared quite content to shun commitment and love for pure sexual need alone. And not even Darya, Arthur’s ‘angel’, had remained as faithful as Arthur had hoped and prayed for. So be it. Arthur bent his left leg and lifted his free hand to rest on his kneecap; emerald gaze now fixed on the flames as they danced unimpeded in the fireplace. He knew that he should not continue to hold Eyla’s hand….but the small act of intimacy was a comfort. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 30 2010, 10:11 PM Post #243 |
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Author: Kay Date: Tue Jun 24, 2008 12:00 pm Guinevere The two woman stood breathless in the woods.
Guinevere glared at Mona, who was standing with her hand on her hip. Yes we have to hurry, the Woad princess thought. It is so obvious, it does not need to be said. She sighed heavily, thinking that this mission had made her short tempered and irritable. She softened her features and took several deep breaths. "Yes, we do" she said, quietly. "We stand little chance of catching them, though; unless they have stopped to rest. If only we knew what Neeria's plan is" Guinevere fell silent, comtemplating her dear friend's motives for riding out with the men from the fortress. Surely Neeria would not betray them? It was too awful to even think it. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 30 2010, 10:13 PM Post #244 |
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Author: Darya Date: Tue Jun 24, 2008 12:27 pm Darya On their way, some shouting and yelling reached Darya’s ears and instinctively, her dark eyes scanned their surroundings. Some soldiers were milling by…and apparently, something was going on in the courtyard. The dark-haired pursed her lips but did not really seek to find out what all this was about. And she and Gabriel were too far away to make out any details. Glancing sideways at the man next to her, the woman concluded that he was not exactly interested in the commotion either. Understandably, seeing that he had just found out that his wife was dead…and his daughters missing. He certainly had other things going on in his mind… …and then the infirmary came into sight and Darya slowed down as they neared the building.
Fleur and Cassidy…, the Sarmatian repeated the names in thought and tried to remember if she had heard them before…but nothing would come to mind yet. The woman frowned slightly and lowered her gaze for a moment as she sought for the right words to tell Gabriel for his further search. A mere 'good luck' would just sound…awkward. But then the man suddenly took her hand and placed something in it. Darya’s gaze immediately snapped up again… …but all she got to see was the man’s back as he already disappeared inside the infirmary. “Thank you but that…”, the dark-haired started hastily…yet the door had already clicked shut behind him, “…was…really not…necessary…” The last words were spoken quietly and more to herself than to anyone else for Darya found herself standing alone in front of the most hated building of the fortress. Her eyes lingered on the closed door for a moment longer and she sighed audibly before glancing at whatever it was that Gabriel had put in her hand… …and the woman blinked at what she saw: a beautiful finely engraved silver ring. Darya carefully retraced the ring’s form with one finger. She should give it back, should she not? But what if Gabriel would consider her returning the gift an affront? She would not want that. Really. And then…why should she not accept the ring for what it was? A harmless gift. She did not get such things very often… Pensively, Darya tried the ring on…but the trinket was too big for her slender fingers…except for her thumb. A corner of the Sarmatian’s mouth twitched slightly as she appraised the ring on her thumb. She would leave it there for now…but perhaps decide on wearing it on a leather string later. Like a necklace. Pleased with this idea, the woman shot one last glance at the infirmary door before turning on her heels and walking away from it. Darya unconsciously headed into the direction of the knights’ quarters…lead by her still very present concern about Arthur’s health. She had seen his injury…and despite Neeve’s certainly brilliant work, there was always a chance of an infection. Not to mention that she knew the Commander well enough to also consider him not doing as told…and leaving his bed way too early. Or was he still talking business? Darya brushed a hand over her still rather tired face and took a few deep breaths to finally get the last remains of the stench of death from Gabriel’s former residence out of her nostrils and lungs… Better. A bit at least. But the Sarmatian knew what was causing her still quite sick feeling. It was what she had yet to tell her lover…in all possible ways. But he had to know… And perhaps finally telling him would ease her mind a bit. At least that was what the woman hoped… Then Darya approached the door to Arthur’s room…and in her mind, she suddenly saw the Roman collapsing again. Just like it had happened when Lancelot and her had accompanied the Commander to his quarters after the men had returned. It had been the first time she had seen Arthur too weak to even walk. A sight that had lacerated her heart. The Sarmatian shut her eyes and shook her head to get rid of this image again. As she finally stood in front of the door, she stopped her hand from just pushing it open just in time. Granted, Arthur had told her long ago, that she could enter this specific room any time…and any time she needed a place to go. But when she had left, the room had been very crowded…and she could not be sure if that was different now. Thus Darya lifted her hand and cautiously knocked at the heavy wood… |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 30 2010, 10:15 PM Post #245 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Tue Jun 24, 2008 1:26 pm Drake Drake stood far enough away that he was not intruding. He couldn't help feel that he shouldn't be watching when the woman clambered onto the bed and started pulling out of the rail. However, the longer he stood there the more amusing he found the situation. She wasn't trying to be amusing but the way her body wriggled uselessly against the bar... It was only after stifling a snicker that Drake realised that it wasn't all that funny after all. His smile, which had made his handsome face softer, the bristles on his beard seemed to calm and his jaw was uncharacteristically loose, it faded... he realised that this was Linnette now. Alone. She didn't have someone to turn to and ask for help in doing things that she would normally be able to do. Her bandaged hands were an outward sign to account for the misery that was tearing her apart inside, the misery she tried not to let overcome her. Filled with a sense of helplessness, Drake walked into the room with a soft murmur.. "Here." Gently, he stood up onto the bed behind her and gave the underside of the rail a thump with his balled up fist. He placed his hand on the wall to steady himself, his arm in front of Linnette so that it did not appear that he was embracing her at all - and he gave it another harder thump. The thing popped upwards with a quiet hush and Drake took a step back, off the bed, leaving Linnette to complete what she had started. He stood back and looked up at her, then looked down at the things she had ready to go, inevitably settling onto the saddlebags that were painfully obviously not Linnette's. Drake reached his hand around to the back of his neck and scratched at the short hair there, the beginnings of a frown upon his brow. "Can I help?" he asked, feeling a little awkward and knowing that she would probably not want him near those saddlebags. But he was finding it hard to imagine she would manage the bags on her own... especially with her poor bandaged hands... Galahad and Kolya Galahad had no idea that Alina was behind him, crying. He was only aware of the rather stone like figure of Kolya that had ruined everything! The young Sarmatian pulled back his fist and planted it firmly, ruthlessly into the older man's side. He heard a groan and then felt the crippling pain of an elbow to the back of his neck. His knees buckled and he dropped down onto the joints with a garbled cry of pain. Kolya was brutal. He always had been. This was not a fight he had sought himself - it was one that had been brought down upon his head. Or so he liked to think. He was not a proud man, never that. But he was quite content to leave the blame for everything upon someone else's shoulder. He, however, was not oblivious to teh fact that Alina was standing by the post crying, sobbing, dry racking sobs and it reminded him painfully of how little Mari had cried when her mother died. It reminded him of how damaged Alian had been when Accolan, her cousin, had died. A twinge of guilt... something entirely unfamiliar to Kolya... This was not what he had planned on when he had fucked her. It was a challenge, it had been a good game, it had been good for both of them - but there was no need for lingering feelings one way or another. He liked to throw a few rocks beneath wooden wheels like any Sarmatian did, but he hadn't planned on having the damn woman crying ...
Galahad heard that voice and it drove a terrible anger through his heart. He growled and lashed out again, using his shoulders and propelling himself forward, knocking Kolya flat against the door. He then slid to the ground with a grunt of pain as his head banged against the door. The younger Knight's feet lashed out as he tried to steady himself, drunkenly trying to grapple a hold of his opponent without realising that it would do him no good. Kolya grit his teeth, irritated at the guilt feelings snaking about his mind, and grabbed a handful of curly black hair. He pulled the head back and proudly smacked his forehead against Galahad's. "He's being a complete dick is what he is doing!" Kolya shouted out at the voice that had addressed Galahad. Shoving the disorientated Sarmatian away, Kolya made to stand but was once again knocked back against the door by Galahad. This time the door flew open, one hinge breaking, as the two Sarmatians spilled out into the courtyard -- |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 30 2010, 10:17 PM Post #246 |
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Author: TwistOfShadows Date: Tue Jun 24, 2008 1:55 pm Eyla Oh, but Arthur was so stern, and his frown married such handsome features. It did not need to be so. The Roman could be happily married and with lots of chubby children running around, and he could have a mistress of Eyla’s adept knowledge of the masculine body. It was a pretty picture to be sure, and Eyla almost laughed aloud. She was many men’s mistress, she did not remain committed, but she could pretend to be so. If the payment was worth the efforts…and Arthur was quite rich. The woman was such a contrast to his dominant masculinity, and she appeared fragile beside him. Her small fingers were held in his large and strong hands, and her pretty little dark eyes sought the gaze of his emerald green. They were an attractive pair, but so different in moral and conscience. Eyla did not pretend to be committed, to be affectionate nor willing to offer emotion. She could be kind if the mood demanded it, but she lived for herself. It kept her alive, it kept her strong. She embodied sweet amusement, pleasure and distraction… She joked with him, because it pleased him. She offered him a sense of honesty…but her words were secretive and protected herself. Aspirations? No whore had aspirations, because they were for foolish people. Dreams were made to be broken, no? You could not trust in dreams…
What God asked of him? Eyla arched a disbelieving eyebrow into her hairline, and parted her lips in amusement. Did he truly believe such nonsense? He appeared such a hard and rational man, and yet to have faith in such rubbish? The harlot looked away from him in that moment, almost annoyed at his subservience to the unknown. The Roman would suffer for such empty beliefs, he would be disappointed, and disappointed hurt more than anything else in the world. She did not fail to notice the slight twinge of pain that fleeted across his expression, but Eyla felt nothing. She did not know injury, she did not truly understand pain…but she believed that Arthur’s foolish beliefs had been the cause of his injury. She would offer him no sympathy. If he chose to live such a painful and damaging life, then it was his path to choose… “Well my mother was a thief and my father a stablehand, and neither job appeals to me. I’m too beautiful for such work…” Eyla spoke arrogantly…and without thinking. Indeed, she had never spoken of her family to a patron, and she looked away quickly, defensively. Weakness. She had not meant to share such information, and she half wondered whether Arthur would judge her for it. She cared not…or did she? Eyla’s family was not important enough to mention, they were weak and useless people. The woman turned back to the Roman, and parted her lips to speak. She wanted to cover her words, make him forget that she was…human. Yes, was it. Without hesitation, she reached forwards and placed a delicate finger against the Roman’s mouth, silencing him before he could speak, before he could make verbal judgments… “I…” She trailed off. A knock at the door sounded loudly, and Eyla looked accusingly towards the interruption… |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 30 2010, 10:18 PM Post #247 |
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Author: Unicorn Date: Tue Jun 24, 2008 1:57 pm Dagonet A silent prayer went on in his mind for a long while. He lost his faith back then, knowing that Gedeon was lost, but he realised that all he had in his life was that faith. He could only beliefe that he will serve his few more years and finally be free of this pain. He had to believe in the gods in order to remain himself. He had to believe that Sarmatian gods were looking over his childern. If not he will stay broken forever. He was laying there with his closed eyes... praying to his gods for safety of his close ones.
Saoirse's unexpected voice and question made him frown before oppening his eyes. Bors? What was wrong with him? He looked at his friend, seemingly watching his red-head lover. He had told Bors what happened to his daughter and maybe it was the reason for this unfriendly look. Besides that... his long time friend was weary, injured... and probably angry to be held up in here. "He has leg injury, love" he whispered very carefully for Bors not to hear him. "How is your leg?" he asked louder his friend. "Lavinia told me that you should take it easly... and she will return to check in on you." He purpously didn't say anything about leaving and geting back with his leg in two days to her. Maybe he will stay a little longer that way. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 30 2010, 10:19 PM Post #248 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Tue Jun 24, 2008 4:34 pm Eala He slapped his thigh and made an irritated gesture. Eala mimicked the action shaking her head and gesturing behind her to indicate that they had to go back. IT wasn't that she was unaware of the dangers, she knew what they were, but she also knew that she loved her brother and he deserved vengeance. If she didn't get it now then she never would.
His hand enclosed about her wrist and he dragged her forward. Eala gasped and dug in her heels. She reached around to grasp his wrist and pulled at his fingers, trying to disentangle herself. He was stronger than her but she was able to slow things down considerably, wriggling and shrugging his grip away from her. She finally resorted to dropping to her knees and biting his hand - not enough to break the skin, but just enough to make him look at her again, to raelise that she had to do this. The little blonde clambered back a few steps and glared at Ash - but her anger only lasted moment before it was taken over completely with agonised mourning. A huge sob shook her shoulders and she shook her head again, gesturing to her chest indicating her breaking heart and then pointed back at where they had come from, to the courtyard where they had both seen Donnchadh die. She parrted her lips and made a series of noises, clutcing a hand to her chest over her heart, tears standing out in her black eyes, but defiance was there too, determination. Grating her teeth, Eala stepped back away from Ash and pressed her two palms together in a pleading gesture. "... Ah--sh.." she attempted, halting, the syllables too condensed and the gap between them too long, she mouthed the word please, unable to even begin to say it but knowing how it looked, all the while she was backing away from him, ready to run if he refused her, ready to strike out on her own. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 30 2010, 10:20 PM Post #249 |
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Author: Lancelot Date: Tue Jun 24, 2008 5:16 pm Lancelot Lancelot rolled his eyes heavenward as he watched with one hand resting on his hip while the older Sarmatian tried to wipe the floor with Galahad. And he was the one who answered Lancelot's query as to what was going on.
"And you're letting him?" Lancelot's voice was full of surprise. Didn't this man know who Galahad was - or that he was drunk? Well...Galahad could get himself into a scrape regardless of what condition he was in, so Lancelot didn't feel quite so badly for him. The men found themselves out into the courtyard, Kolya having effortlessly headbutted Galahad. The pup, obviously not wanting to be left dizzily in the dust, stumbled over his own feet as he shoved the other Sarmatian hard enough to break through the doors and outside. Lancelot growled and followed, reaching for Galahad, trying to stop the young knight from doing something stupid - and Galahad's tripping feet caught Lancelot in the shin, and his flailing elbow found a home - straight into Lancelot's right eye. Lancelot didn't care what honor or utter bullshit the pup was fighting for. He cared that his eye had just had all of Galahad's elbow slammed into it. He shook his head, seeing stars, and then bared his teeth. He took a second to see where Kolya was; he didn't know the other Sarmatian, but knew he was obviously stupid enough to have stayed in Britain when he could have gone home. Lancelot could not understand that - and that knowledge fuled his idiotic rage just far enough. "Fuck!" he gritted, and allowed a string of curse words in his own tongue to follow as he launched himself at Galahad, his arms going around the pup's waist as he attempted to one, get the man away from Kolya in order to avoid a worse ending, and two, get his own hits in since Galahad had had the nerve to first kick Lancelot in the shins and then elbow his face. "You little shit! Stop it! You will be killed - and can't you see your woman crying!" Crying - crying - crying. Always pain, always someone in pain. Nothing in this horrid dump of a place could ever just be - or just be happy or satisfied. Even alone, Lancelot was miserable. And he blamed one person for that - himself. Which was not acceptable. He screamed in Galahad's ear as they fell forward, arms and legs akimbo as Lancelot attempted to control his anger as Galahad's swinging limbs landed punches on his body. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 30 2010, 10:23 PM Post #250 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Tue Jun 24, 2008 7:31 pm Tristan And suddenly, before the Optio could even begin to question the second ungagged Woad, they were under attack. There were no cries, no battle shouts, but there was a sudden noise of rushing feet from outside in the main part of the deserted camp, and then a fraction of a second later, several arrows thumped into the wooden walls of the hut, not penetrating, but it was obvious what they were. Tristan tensed and straightened, his hand going to his sword hilt, though there was no room to actually draw it here in the confined space of the back of the hut. The Optio’s head whipped toward him and he issued some rapid- and rather contradictory- orders…
Peace? Tristan hesitated behind the Woad he had just ungagged, his knife ready near the man’s throat. Scipio was offering peace? If so, then killing all the captives just at that moment might not be the wisest idea. A little bemused as to the Optio’s intentions, the scout maintained his ready posture behind the three living Woads, ready to strike them down if the Woads stormed the hut- but holding back for now. Indeed, he would much rather see what was going on- over the heads of Scipio and Barbattus he could see Woads swarming around, but could not get much of a guess on how many they were, nor what they were doing. Damn it! If only he wasn’t walled up in this damn hut- it was giving protection at the moment, but it also couldn’t help but feel like a trap, and that was whether they had living captives or not. Linnesse
“I’ll be here,” Linnesse murmured, keeping a wary eye on the scuffle near the door as she reluctantly slid her arm from around Derfel’s waist, picked up her spoon again, and had a go at another bite. Even all the excitement and uncertainty was not enough to completely quell her hunger- but she sat sideways on her stool, gazing as intently as she could upon the happenings outside while she ate. Through the doorway she saw Lancelot spring between the two fighting men and attempt to separate them, without remarkable success; and beyond that, soldiers were running about the courtyard in what seemed to be an unrelated, but equally noisy, disturbance. One thing she could see no sign of, though, thank God, was Woads. No thin, blue-painted bodies mixed with the red cloaks of the soldiers- so at least that particular fear seemed to be unfounded- for now. Still, Linnesse had every intention of staying right here, inside the tavern, until things either quietened, or Derfel told her it was all right. Linnette
The voice was a soft, low murmur behind her, and she turned with no surprise, but only an exasperated and defeated exhalation, to see Drake coming into the room- no real intrusion, as she had left the door open. And he had obviously witnessed her struggles- he came straight over and climbed onto the bed, too, and she took an acquiescent step backward and sideways, wading in the softness of the mattress, allowing him to take over the task. He took care of it handily, loosening the bar in its bracket with two simple, easy knocks, and then stepped back off the bed. He was frowning again. He always frowned.
Linnette, who had half-turned back towards the wall to take the bar down, turned back to Drake with another sigh, a tired one this time. She honestly didn’t know how to answer him. Could he help? Yes, he could- she had much to do- and no, he couldn’t- because maybe nothing could really “help”. And maybe help wasn’t something she should ask for. She was already beginning to feel contrite for her outburst in the tavern, for the way she had treated Linnesse and Derfel. They were only trying to do the right thing. She needed them right now. Well, she needed Linnesse, and Derfel came with the package, but he wasn’t so bad. Really, he wasn’t. Linnette marshaled a smile, a sad, tired, small smile, then turned to lift the bar and tapestry from its bracket, wincing when it hurt her hand- but she managed it, and once it was out of the brackets, she could just let it slide down, to puddle in thick folds along the length of the bed. She didn’t think she could get it all the way to the new room, though- nor the saddlebags, nor Gedeon’s extra armor, when she got to that, nor any of the furniture, if she had to take it. She did need help- lots more than she had a right to ask Drake for. She turned back to him, still standing on the bed, gazing down at him sadly. It was an unusual perspective, on him and on the room that would shortly no longer be hers, and she cocked her head slightly to the side, taking it in. “You’ve already helped me more than I can possibly repay you for,” she murmured softly, very softly, as unthinkingly, she reached out and touched his cheek- very quickly, just a brush, at the full length of her reach. It was hardly a contact at all. She was also crying again- or getting there. Turning her face away from Drake, she stepped off the bed, turned around, and began tugging the top blanket off, out from under everything that was on top of it, favoring her bad hand, of course, and swallowing a lump in her throat. Gedeon would never sleep on this bed again. He would never sleep with her again, anywhere. “Do the new rooms have furniture?” she asked, her voice choked, but forcing herself to go on to another topic, to focus on the practical. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 1 2010, 02:13 AM Post #251 |
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Author: linnet Date: Tue Jun 24, 2008 8:19 pm Gawain
“It should be alright,” Gawain replied, returning Neeve’s easy smile. “Luckily Lavinia’s skills are as good as her manner is evil.” He really didn’t need Neeve to give him any attention of that sort. But when she lightly touched his shoulder, and both she and Vanora spoke as if concerned, he felt a brief moment of sadness. Without Brianna, there had been no one to be there when he came back from the pain and horrors of battle. No one to let him know they were glad he was alive. No one to understand how he’d once again had to risk his body for something he pretty much didn’t give a shit about. He wasn’t feeling sorry for himself. He was, rather, sensing the loss of something that went beyond his ex Woad lover. While Gawain waited for Neeve to answer his offer to help with her food delivery, he glanced again back toward Galahad. He was on his feet now and starting for the door, rather unsteadily. Alina seemed to be hesitating as to whether or not she should follow. Gawain figured that even if the couple hadn’t ended on a good note, it was just as well that Galahad got out of the tavern and away from trouble for now.
“I’ll be back for more later tonight, Vanora,” the knight assured the redhead, as he picked up the basket of food. “Lead the way, fair lady,” he motioned to Neeve, but by the time he turned toward the door, he saw Galahad and Kolya mixing it up. “Oh, bloody hell,” Gawain cursed under his breath. Now someone was going to get hurt, and it looked likely to be his best friend. There was no walking away from this. He turned to Neeve and gave her a look of real regret. “Maybe you shouldn’t wait for me. This might take awhile,” he said shaking his head in disgust. He moved fast toward the combatants. Kolya gave Galahad a brutal head butt, and Gawain was about to help his friend by grabbing Kolya from behind, to try to restrain him from doing any more damage to the younger knight. That was as much of a plan as he had, but he never got to it because both opponents crashed through the tavern door, out into the courtyard, when Galahad bulled full force into Kolya. Gawain followed, intent on keeping his friend from getting seriously injured. He yanked Kolya roughly by the shoulder to turn him away from Galahad, and toward himself. “He’s drunk and he’s hurt.” Gawain growled when Kolya turned and glared. “Save it for a fair fight.”
Where the hell had Lancelot come from? Now all of Galahad’s aggression was being inflicted on the First Knight. And if he didn’t settle down, he wouldn’t fare any better against Lancelot than he had Kolya. “Damn it, Galahad! Stop! It’s over for now,” Gawain yelled menacingly. Truth be told, he was feeling more than a little responsible for this whole punch up. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 1 2010, 02:15 AM Post #252 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Tue Jun 24, 2008 8:30 pm Neeria and Malcus Barbattus Malcus watched with revulsion as Tristan slit the Woad's throat from ear to ear. The captain shook his head in disgust. Scipio probably had a hard on from flaunting his authority. His little pecker was probably poking to be free after ordering the killing of that woad. He was an idiot. This could be a trap - they could have ridden right into an ambush and Amadeus in all his Roman peity could be playing right into the Briton's hands! Malcus shot a glance at Tristan who appeared just as uncomfortable as Barbattus. Neither man gave two fucks about the woads, but this whole situation just didn't seem right. Malcus tightened his grip on sword as Tristan cut the gag off the second man.
Just then all hell broke loose. Blue men and women began raining from the trees. "Bloody fucking hell!" Malcus yelled. "Fuck!" Malcus peeked his head out of the hut door and tried to do a quick count of the rushing enemy. The captain threw himself back inside the hut, his back against the wall and looked at Tristan. Where the scout was standing, he was practically trapped in the back of the tiny room. Malcus held no stock in Amadeus' ability to assist in fighting their way out of the hut should it come to that. "There are about 15, 20 of them," Barbattus said to Tristan, then cast a quick glance at the optio. "Fuck!" he said again. Malcus looked out of the door again quickly. He couldn't see Mordred from where he was standing and didn't know if the knight had fallen or not. They were careless in getting themselves effectively trapped in the hut. Of course there would be woad scouts about! Malcus cursed in his mind, but that really didn't matter now. What mattered was getting his happy ass out of there in one piece. "Optio, what are your orders? Optio?!" Malcus yelled. He hated to defer to the other man, but Amadeus was the senior officer and Malcus would follow his orders...for the most part. Neeria craned her neck and strained her ears to see and hear what was being said in the hut. All she heard was "kill" and she did not know what that meant. She could not see Tristan or the other two Romans. She also couldn't see who they were talking too. Instinctively, Neeria jerked her head around and listened carefully, the hairs on her neck and arms suddenly standing on end. Her skin went ice cold. Jumping out of the trees, her countrymen suddenly flooded the area. Neeria was momentarily stunned, then overwhelmed with joy at seeing her people. But the horse Neeria sat on whinnied and took a few steps from side to side, frightened by the sudden disturbance. Neeria reached down and grabbed the horse's mane again to hold on when suddenly someone grabbed her foot and pulled her off the horse's back. Neeria landed with a hard thud on the wet earth, hitting her head on the ground when she fell. Shaking away her dizziness, the woman looked up and directly into the flashing green eyes of Nolan, Merlin's lieutenant. Neeria scrambled to her feet, grabbing hold of Nolan's legs to assist her. "Nolan!!! Nolan!!" she screamed. "Merlin has not forsaken me!" What greeted her from Nolan was not relief, but what appeared to be anger and....hatred? Neeria stared at the man she considered to be like her brother, confused by the snarl on his face. Reality suddenly hit her like a ton of bricks. In a split second, she understood why Nolan stared at her like he did. Instantly, she knew why Nolan looked upon her with hatred. Neeria's mind raced. "Nolan, they wish to speak with Merlin," she said quickly. "They have been sent on the orders of Arthur Castus." Titrus Titrus walked up to the front gate of the dungeons where Quintus was admonishing two of the guards. The centurion was obviously furious about something. Titrus subconsciously adjusted his armor, making sure he was adequately redressed and correct in his appearance. He wanted no tell-tale signs of his earlier activity. The lieutenant cleared his throat. "What is it Quintus? What's happened?" |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 1 2010, 02:19 AM Post #253 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Tue Jun 24, 2008 9:09 pm Adian
Fun? That was meant to have been seductive...must be losing my touch... Adian almost chuckled to himself, but turned anyway to allow Tatiana her turn at giving him a bath. It had been a long time since he had had any woman give him a bath. Adian waited with his eyes shut so that he could feel her touches better. His skin twitched a bit as she brought the wet cloth to his back...a sigh escaped his lips. Her touch was gentle, and mingled with the lather of the soap, was relaxing washing away all of the stress of the past few days....even his imprisonment in the woad camp had almost vanished. The one thing that still would not vanish was Thorn's memory even though he could "hear" her telling him to get on with his life... His head tilted back as Tatiana spread the suds over his shoulders, then in an almost massage like movement washed his back again...moving down to his sides...then she tickled him. Adian stiffled a laugh as it was not his ticklish spot, but allowed her to take the huge pitcher and rinse off the soap, then left her repeat the rinsing...his laugh almost turned into a groan. Having her this close made Adian's soul stir. Her body was delicate, her skin soft....pure and free spirited. Surely, Tatiana had meant the tickling to be playful, but did she realize exactly what kinds of feelings that arose in him? He could have "taken" her there and then....he turned his thoughts to something playful...
Adian watched as she swam from behind him having finished her part of the deal. She had a teasing grin on her face, but it was her whole naked body peeking here and there from underneath her copper colored hair. The whole of her seemed encased in silvery suds that lingered on the surface. Sinking his whole body into the water, Adian caught her in his arms, and brought his face level with her sweet face. Heather gray eyes locked on the her green ones as he slowly leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers. No, he'd not break her respect by making love to her here in the bath house, but he had wanted to kiss her from the first he saw her in the tavern earlier.... Perhaps when he knew her better, but for now he'd grace her with a slow lazy kiss. "I had fun as well, Tatiana, and I feel much cleaner and relaxed," Adian spoke as he broke the kiss. He was still close enough to feel her breath on his face... Brendyn He watched Lancelot run off, and waited patiently for orders from his superior. Granted he was not dressed for duty and looked like a sight, but he was still a soldier and was always trained to come when an alarm sounded. Despite his looks at the moment, Brendyn stood at attention waiting for Quintus to accept his help...
Why did that not surprise me? They should have killed the wretch when they had the chance...aww but she was so little...only a murderous child..... Brendyn's face remained neutral keeping his thoughts to himself. Those thoughts had gotten him into trouble earlier and he was not anxious to be punished again. "Sir, I believe I know of whom you speak..." For a moment, Brendyn was ready to answer the second question, but there was no time.....the prisoner had to be found. Brendyn nodded and was about ready to leave when two guards appeared from an alleyway looking confused and not quite up to par as to what was going on....He certainly was grateful that he was not in their shoes at present...
Brendyn raised an eyebrow. This little beast seemed to have friends all over the fort. How in the heck had woads snuck into the fort without detection? Well if he didn't find the wretch then at least he could try to find her accomplice. Brendyn had made ready to leave again when he saw Titrus approach, and thought for sure he'd be in trouble for abandoning his punishment. He nodded to Titrus, and hoped the man would understand if he went to search for any of the woads still in the fort. Every moment they talked the more the woads would have time to escape. Well, they could not have gotten far as the little woad was badly hurt...
Brendyn waited to see if Titrus would want to pair off in the search, so he waited patiently hoping for a strong rain so that at least God could give him a partial bath. He was hungry, very tired, smelly and a bit chilled, but he had a duty to do now, and so he waited patiently.... |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 1 2010, 02:21 AM Post #254 |
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Author: linnet Date: Tue Jun 24, 2008 9:10 pm Juna
He was trying to be reassuring. Juna knew he wanted no more killing right now. But the way Nolan and his group had looked when they went off, was anything but reassuring. No, Merlin’s words couldn’t calm her fear. And his arms holding her only made Juna desperate to not again have to wait. She couldn’t take the hours or days of constant anxiety over his safety, the not knowing.
Juna looked steadily into the dark depth of his eyes, knowing she would displease him. But she knew even more strongly that she couldn’t leave of her own volition. She shook her head slowly, her gesture and her eyes telling him ‘no’. “I should be there if anyone gets injured,” she said. The fact that ‘anyone’ meant him wasn’t stated. She tried to keep her expression hard and determined, but she could tell her face wasn’t doing too well in hiding her desperation to stay with Merlin. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 1 2010, 02:22 AM Post #255 |
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Author: sabor ice Date: Wed Jun 25, 2008 2:43 am Mordred It had all happened so fast. One moment the trees had been all but bare, and the next resting place of accursed woodland dwellers. They propelled themselves from the limbs with feline grace, littering the ground below in pairs. Mordred had reared Lucifer about to face them, sword drawn in hand. He was prepared to meet his doom, but not empty-handed, and he'd be damned if he was going to allow himself to be taken prisoner again. Warning arrows rained down around him, one very nearly striking his steed. He reigned the horse in tightly as it prodded its hooves anxiously, spooked. The knight growled under his breath, a flash of indignation in his eyes as he realized he was sorely outnumbered. He reluctantly stood down, lowering his sword, but did not re-sheath it. "Optio!" the knight called over his shoulder, piercing eyes never leaving sight of his enemy. Damn. How could this have happened? So, the Woad bitch had played her part well in deceiving them after all, or so he had thought until one male Woad stepped forward to savagely claim her from Tristan's horse. He carelessly yanked her from the beast and dragged her a few feet away. Neeria seemed foolishly relieved by this Nolan's efforts, but the man peered down at her with pure unadulterated hatred. It seemed Mordred's company was not the only one feeling the woman was riddled with deception. If her own people murdered her, all the better - one less putrid, worthless walking corpse for the knight to sully his gloves with. Over the noise, Mordred thought he heard Amadeus call out for 'peace', while conveniently remaining well-hidden within the confinements of the Woad hut with Tristan and Malcus, leaving him on his own. The knight's menacing gaze flickered toward the male Woad seemingly acting as leader and waited, fully alert and seething with unrepressed spite, for something to happen. Anything. Ash
Toting along stubborn Eala was like trying to tote along a stubborn mule. Small she may have been, but strength she seemed to draw from the Earth itself, grinding her heels, dragging her feet, pulling, tugging mercilessly. He recovered quickly after being partially thrown off balance when the girl abruptly dropped to her knees, tossing Eala a dark look when she bit him. Ash released her wrist, flexing the sting out of his hand, watching her warily, questioningly as she toddled backward a few steps. The Woad sighed deeply, rubbing a palm against a weary eye, before combing his digits back through his dark hair. He knew why she delayed, and he did not blame her for wanting revenge for her brother. He empathized with Eala for her loss, truly, but Ash was in a whole other frame of mind. His resolution to get them out of Badon alive would not be hindered by any amount of tearful pleading from her. She would probably never again have an opportunity for vengeance against her brother's slayer, this Ash knew all too well, but it changed nothing. There was no time. Ash lunged forward and caught her by the arm again, knowing there was no other way to convince the blonde they were leaving than by using force. The debate was over. He aimed to tote her over his shoulder despite her protesting blows to every available inch of his body, but was forced to drop her aside when Eala elbowed him in the left side, his wounded side. Ash doubled over in searing agony, holding a palm to the throbbing wound and coughing violently against his other hand on the ground. A few moments later he managed to raise his head, gasping a moment as he attempted to console himself. The pain was blinding. Infuriated, blood-shot eyes scanned his surroundings for Eala as he stumbled back to his feet, still holding an arm to his side for extra support. He turned his head to the side and wheezed out another cough, swallowing roughly and glancing back in the blonde Woad's direction. His expression was chagrin. |
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