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| June 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 23 2010, 07:18 PM (3,692 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | Apr 1 2010, 07:08 PM Post #271 |
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Author: TwistOfShadows Date: Thu Jun 26, 2008 7:58 am Nolan and Ceinwyn What had Nolan expected? An easy surrender, or a complicated conversation that ended in one race dying bloodily? The Woad warrior stood confidently before the hut, his jaw tensed in a hard and relentless line. His lips wore a tight grimace, and his strong fingers gripped his daggers. The Woad would not be taken unawares. His army had entire control over the situation before them, and they would not lose it. The Woad glanced to his side, and took in Ceinwyn. She stood strong, her green eyes vehemently focused upon the hut. It was true, she was a pretty thing, but had been tainted with the stain of a slave…and despite how loyal she appeared, Nolan did not trust her. The woman caught his eyes with a glare of her own, and then looked away. Yes, Nolan had it completely under control, but it would take only one mishap, one lack of judgment…and they would all be dead. Ceinwyn listened to his words, his blunt attempts at a negotiation, and remained silent. She would not intervene…for now…and concerning Neeria? Ceinwyn did not pass judgment. She had been falsely accused of treachery before…but Neeria’s presence seemed far too coincidental. Looking to the hut, she half wondered if the First Knight was there. Indeed, it would be amusing…had his fingers healed well? She hoped not…
Ceinwyn began to laugh. It was an uncontrollable sound, and quite manic. She looked to the hut, and wondered who exactly this foul Roman was…and was he truly in a position to make demands? The Woad woman cocked her head to the side, her matted hair whipping about her face in the winds. Nolan looked at her, and…smiled himself. It was a tight thing, but enough to show his amusement, his mockery. The Roman was making very idle threats, and with what ammunition exactly? Roman status meant nothing here, and his pompous language was deeply amusing. However, amusement quickly turned into impatience…there was movement within the hut. Nolan frowned darkly. It was a Woad, he recognized the blue and dusty skin of his kin…but something was not right. The man’s feet were bound, and a sharp dagger lurked dangerously near his throat. He was a hostage, and followed by a darkly clad figure. The man was tall, but not Roman. His attire was more modest, duller, and more appropriate for war. A Slave… Nolan gritted his teeth, and Ceinwyn growled angrily. The Woad woman curled her top lip back, and suddenly felt all her hatred come back to her. Slaves were suited to death… “We can sacrifice one of our own to justify the death of a slave!” Ceinwyn spat angrily, and her eyes glared green at Tristan. Oh, how she hated Sarmatians. She hated their handsome features, their complete disregard for freedom, their willingness to comply to Roman rule. It was pathetic! She spoke again. “Kill them both!” Nolan ignored her. His dark eyes took in the Sarmatian and his hostage, and he stepped closer to the pair. It was a dangerous movement, but one that could not be avoided. The Woad parted his lips to address Tristan…but then he changed his mind. Ceinwyn was an irrational fool, but she was correct in her judgments of slaves. The Sarmatian was useless, he did as he was told…but the Roman hiding inside the hut? Nolan would beckon him out, one way or another. Cowardice was quite amusing. Why did the Roman not take the hostage himself? It would have gained him an ounce of respect perhaps? But no, Romans were nothing without their horses and armour… “Very well Roman. You will have your Peace.” He spoke towards the hut, his eyes never leaving Tristan and his hostage. Nolan’s gaze momentarily dropped to his kin. The Woad seemed agitated, frightened and angry that he could do nothing. Nolan spoke again. “But you will also lose your weapons…and release the hostages. Your birth or status means nothing to me, nor to Merlin…” Nolan glared into the hut, awaiting the remaining cowards. How many were there? Indeed, Nolan did not truly care. They would abandon their weapons, and suffer the short journey back to camp. The Woad warrior looked to the Sarmatian once more, and spoke. “Release him. This is not your war.” Nolan’s voice was gritty, referring immediately to the hostage before them. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 1 2010, 07:09 PM Post #272 |
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Author: Darya Date: Thu Jun 26, 2008 8:29 am Neeve
When the other woman moved slightly underneath her hand, the healer automatically let go of Alina’s shoulder and crossed her arms in front of her chest instead. She was glad to hear that Alina was okay…at least physically. While the dark-haired spoke again, Neeve glanced out of the door at the fighting men again and shook her head. “Oh yes. And they actually think that would impress us…”, she replied to Alina’s words, her voice clearly expressing that she did not approve the men’s behavior. The knights were acting like 12-year-olds and the healer wondered what on earth had caused all this… Then…
Blue eyes shifted towards Linnesse when the blonde woman arrived. And Neeve immediately eyed the other healer, who still looked far too pale for her taste. But at least she was eating now. That was a good thing. And she had asked the very question that was keeping Neeve’s mind busy… “Good question…”, the raven-haired commented and gave Linnesse a nod in greeting as she did so…then her gaze was back on Alina. The Briton already sort of figured that the relationship of Alina and Galahad was not at its best…which would explain the Sarmatian’s earlier behavior and drinking… But was that the reason for the mess outside, too? |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 1 2010, 07:10 PM Post #273 |
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Author: Unicorn Date: Thu Jun 26, 2008 1:35 pm Dagonet Dagonet was not aware that he had misunderstood Saoirse's question about Bors... Instead of thinking about this he watched his friend, knowing that the leg had to hurt him very much right now. He had not thought that he could glare at Saoirse in any unfriendly way... nor he had not thought what might Bors think about the present situation between his little red-head and Dagonet himself. Bors knew about his daughter and probably highly disaproved Saoirse decision. But still Bors had not known the whole situation. Dagonet never would tell him everything.... only if Saoirse will allow it. The things he had discussed with her was only for him and nobody else. Dagonet could hold his tongue. Could keep a secret.... about her heritage and all. No matter what others would feel about this, he needed her and loved her... nothing will change this.
Dagonet wanted to smile at him, but somehow nothing came out from him and he closed his eyes briefly. And I should be beside Linnette, comforting her... I should be strong and stay the way I always was... I should never be broke. Once he oppened his eyes there was Saoirse's face... smile fading away. His hand went to touched the top of her head and he gave her a knowing look. "Then go to her, Bors" he said to his friend. "...promise me to come back in two days for Lavinia to examine this whole in you, aye?" he asked him, not really looking at him, but at Saoirse. Would she be willing to live with him a simple life like that? Because of Dagonet wanted in his life was peace... nothing more.. nothing else. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 1 2010, 07:11 PM Post #274 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Thu Jun 26, 2008 5:24 pm Ione Having made her tea, Ione went over to the unfinished cloth still connected to the loom. Thankfully, the loom had not been damaged in the attack, nor had the project. Ione had begun it when Javier was close and in her life...now he was gone. In her mind, a new set of clors came to her imagination: colors that reminded her of Mirtha....the darker earthy tones mingled with heathery grays and blues. She took a sip of the tea, sitting down at the stool in front of the instrument. One hand went down to feel the soft textures.... Dark eyes moved back to the small room where she and Mirtha had finished making love. Mirtha. Of all the men at the fort, he had been the one she had least expected to fall in love with her. He was so different from Javier. Mirtha was still sleeping, she guessed as she had not heard any noises from the room. Smiling to herself, she set her tea on the window ledge, and placed one hand on the shuttle of blue gray yarn, and the other on the loom itself. Customers had come to pick up work, then leave, and it made her glad that she was able to sell some items...mainly cloaks. Her thoughts went to Darya, Arthur, Linnette and her other friends that she had seen briefly or had not seen yet. For some reason, her right hand went back to her stomach. She had not really felt hungry, and had felt a bit sick depending on the time of day... Ione rubbed her stomach slowly and absently, as her eyes moved to look outside at the gray day. Nearby, she could hear chaos of some sort, but because of the angle of the shop, she was unable to see what was going on... |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 1 2010, 07:13 PM Post #275 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Thu Jun 26, 2008 6:23 pm Arthur
Surprise filled Arthur’s green eyes at Eyla’s confession in regards to her parents; never in all their time together had the woman ever given any intimate details of her life. Ever. He ignored Eyla’s flippant statement about her beauty though. A handsome face had nothing to do with good honest work in Arthur’s opinion. Eyla was the epitome of a goddess in human form though….yet surprisingly not the wife of an important and wealthy man by now who would dote on her and lavish her with gifts and anything she would ever want for. She had always struck Arthur as an intelligent woman and most likely come from good bloodlines. “Too good to be selling herself for money.” Curious emerald eyes studied Eyla’s expression for the reasons behind the sudden change in her voice; the seductive tone having switched over to something more solemn…as if she spoke to a ‘friend’ or confident instead of a lover. Had the two of them moved on beyond ‘harlot’ and ‘commander’ to something more? Arthur had barely opened his mouth to speak when Eyla’s long slender finger pressed over his lips to effectively silence him. Arthur’s left brow rose slightly in retort, but he allowed the gesture and waited for whatever Eyla wished to speak about next.
A knock at the door interrupted whatever jewel that was about to pass next between Eyla’s ruby red lips. Arthur, accustomed to such untimely interruptions, never took his eyes off Eyla’s face as he lifted his free hand to brush her fingertip from his lips. “Come!” The Commander called out to whoever had rapped on the thick wooden door. Arthur prayed it was only Neeve with his soup or perhaps Jols with the latest duty rosters…certainly it was far too soon for the Optio’s return…or Lancelot’s for that matter. But no matter whom it was Arthur knew it was his duty to receive them. He gave Eyla’s fingers a final gentle squeeze and then released her hand as he shifted into a stiffer ‘official’ position on the bed. The mask of Roman Commander immediately slipped back into place despite Arthur’s pain and discomfort and despite his present company. “We shall continue this conversation another time, Eyla,” Arthur said in a low tone insinuating that she had piqued his curiosity and he truly had appreciated the distraction. But as it often did….duty always called and the few precious private moments in Arthur’s life always slipped through his fingers all too quickly much like the fine sands along the shorelines of Britain. “Perhaps for now, you might endeavor to earn what I do pay you for, hm?” Arthur added in a distinctly sardonic tone and accompanied by a brief wink before the door opened. But Arthur’s humorous expression was short lived as a throbbing pain in his side, matched only in intensity by the one radiating behind his eyes, reverberated throughout his tired body. The wry grin immediately transformed into a grimace that Arthur had to work hard at taming before he’d face whoever was at the door. God willing it was not anything urgent as Arthur truly did need rest. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 1 2010, 07:16 PM Post #276 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Thu Jun 26, 2008 6:28 pm Neeria
Neeria recoiled at Nolan’s harshness. But before she could speak, Nolan grabbed her by the hair and pulled her out of his way. Neeria bit her lip to prevent the scream that lurked in her throat. The warrior turned to address him when she was suddenly aware of the woman standing behind him. Ceinwyn! Neeria barely recognized the woman. The other woman’s eyes were wide and her hair wild and tangled. There were scratches and bruises all over her body and she was eerily thin. Ceinwyn was but a shell of the beautiful warrior she once was. Neeria dusted herself off, feeling awkward in the clothes she had been provided, and scanned her kin. She was still unaware of what happened in the hut. The knight was still mounted on his horse but made no effort to engage. His face was masked with hatred and anger. From inside the hut, Neeria heard the command of the one they called ‘optio’ Neeria watched Nolan carefully. She knew him well and she knew that he would not take kindly to demands. Where was Merlin? Would he come? Neeria’s mind raced. This looked bad for her and she knew it. She understood that it looked like she’d led the Romans directly to Merlin, therefore making her look like a traitor. The truth was she had no idea that the camp would still be occupied. Neeria had known that Merlin would leave the camp and head back to the village and therefore led the Romans to the camp which was in the opposite direction of the village. But would Nolan and Merlin believe her? Neeria shuddered at the thought. She would have to convince them it was true. She had been prepared to die to spare Merlin and the rest of her people. Neeria saw Nolan’s muscles tense at the sound of the optio’s voice.
The man growled as he spoke. Neeria knew by the tone of his voice, he wanted to kill them. And her as well. Tristan and the other Roman were in the hut as well. Tristan. He was still inside. Neeria craned her neck to see him but the hut’s interior was too dark for her to make out his shape.
Neeria’s eyes darted quickly from the hut back to Nolan. Idiot! She saw the storm cross Nolan’s face. Didn't he know he was at a disadvantage? Neeria hated him. Just then, from the dark, she saw Tristan come to the doorway, the other Roman – the man other than the optio – was beside him, his sword clutched tightly in his hand. The Roman’s eyes swept over the woad population, his face frowned and angry. Tristan held a blade to the throat of another woad that Neeria didn’t immediately recognize. Tristan looked calm, his face betraying nothing. Neeria’s heart thumped loudly in her chest. Ceinwyn burst into a maniacal laugh. Neeria jerked her head around and stared at the woman who was once her friend and again wondered what awful things had happened to her. Neeria searched the other woman’s eyes with her own, but Ceinwyn’s eyes were empty, dead.
“You will not touch the Sarmatian,” Neeria said surprisingly calmly, gritting her teeth. She looked at both Nolan and Ceinwyn. “Do what you want to the Romans, but leave the scout.” She knew she was taking a big risk but Nolan would not kill her without the order from Merlin. Of that she was sure. Nolan may get angry and even hurt her, but Neeria knew that she would live to speak with Merlin if only to beg for his mercy.
Neeria let out her breath, then she prepared for whatever Nolan would give her. Despite her weakened state, she would not submit to him before she spoke with their leader. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 1 2010, 07:17 PM Post #277 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Thu Jun 26, 2008 6:42 pm Adian
Her lips felt supple and warm beneath his, and mentally, he marvled at the sweetness of her breath on his face. To his pleasure and delight, Tatiana had leaned in closer to him and returned his kiss. His strong hand moved up the curve of her back then back down, his body moving closer to hers, then his lips left her lips and moved to her freshly washed jawline, her neck.... Adian heard her sigh softly, her eyes closing with pleasure. Finally, removing his lips from her skin, he looked at her, "I...uh...didn't think you'd mind if I kissed you, but I have wanted to do that since I saw you this morning in the tavern...Did you mind?" Moving from her, with a smile, he stepped up the steps that left the pool. Adian stood there for a moment stark naked in the light with his eyes latched on the hers, then grabbed his breeches and put them on. The young man wondered why he had stood there to see what her reaction would be...perhaps to see if she was pleased with how his body looked. "I suppose I should go and see what damage the woads did this time. Later tonight, if you want to, you may come to my quarters and share a meal with me by the fire," Adian's eyes sparkled in the light. "But right now, I have to make a headstone for Thorn's grave. I do not know where it is, but perhaps we can find a lovely spot and make one there..." Vanora She nodded at Neeve and Gawain who had now left, and went back to watching the fight evolve into a sort of...well a bundle of chaos. From where she stood in the tavern, she could see Galahad, Lancelot, and a bunch of others. She shook her head wondering what had brought all of this on in the first place. Well, she had had a full day, or so it seemed, and she felt that she had to go see Bors in the infirmary to see how he was. Vanora just wanted to forget this whole day, and just to spend the rest of the day with Bors sounded to be ideal...and the little bastards as well. Nodding to one of the wenches she trusted to watch the tavern, Vanora told her, "I am taking the day off to take care of some business and such...I'll be back tomorrow early." Grabbing her shawl, Vanora left the tavern, and avoided the fight to get to the infirmary. Entering the infirmary, Vanora scanned the room to find where Bors was.... |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 1 2010, 07:19 PM Post #278 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Thu Jun 26, 2008 7:13 pm Malcus Barbattus Malcus stood next to Tristan, waiting for the optio to answer Barbattus’ request for orders.
Malcus suppressed a ‘fuck you’ and stood his ground. Scipio was obviously out of his depths but Malcus’ hands were pretty much tied. Scipio was the highest ranking officer so Malcus was willing to ride the storm out. For the moment. As Tristan moved the bound prisoner close to the door, Malcus spoke to him just above a whisper. “Slow and easy, Tris. I’ve got your back,” and the captain positioned himself just to the front of the Sarmatian. Malcus looked out in the daylight and saw a small sea of blue painted men. The sight of them was startling. Malcus and his party were clearly outnumbered. There would be little chance for victory with the odds that faced them. Barbattus turned his attention to a tall, wiry Blue Man who seemed to be all mouth and the one in charge. Standing next to him was a woman who looked insane. Malcus was very familiar with the woads. He'd been dealing with them for many years. As many as Arthur. Barbattus thought the crazy woman looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t immediately place her face. Woad women! he thought with disgust. They were insane, blood-thirsty bitches. That one next to the leader looked like she ate balls for breakfast. Barbattus cursed under his breath, knowing that today with the optio in charge, he might die. As though confirmation came directly from heaven, Amadeus spoke again.
Good Lord.
Malcus gripped his sword, pressing closer to Tristan, waiting for the onslaught- when Neeria spoke, telling the others not to harm the scout. Malcus shot a look at the small woman and threw daggers with his dark eyes at the traitorous whore. What the hell was up with her? The captain didn’t move, waiting for the first arrow.
“There is no war today, woad,” Malcus spoke up, seizing the opportunity to speak from Amadeus. The captain reluctantly placed his sword on the hut floor, thankful that he was fully armed underneath his clothing. Malcus refused to look at Scipio but felt the flames on his neck that must have been shooting out the optio's nostrils. “Our request has been made. We wish to speak with Merlin on the request of Arthur Castus. There need not be any further bloodshed. Ask your men to stand down as we are clearly out-numbered.” Captain Barbattus stepped out of the small hut and stared at the woad, locking eyes with him. “Now, let’s stop fucking around. Where is Merlin?” |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 1 2010, 07:21 PM Post #279 |
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Author: linnet Date: Thu Jun 26, 2008 7:31 pm Gawain
The last thing Gawain wanted was to have his damn arm get messed up again. But there was no choice here. When your best friend was getting throttled, you had to get involved. He gave Neeve a quick ‘what are you gonna do’ shrug before joining the fray. Later, he’d settle one way or other with Galahad for doing this just when he was about to have some rare time alone with Neeve.
Gawain’s only intention was to break up the fight before anyone got hurt, and if that didn’t work, to make sure Galahad wasn’t getting the worst of it. When he grabbed Kolya, he thought it was over. The veteran Sarmatian snarled, but looked like he’d had enough. Kolya was breathing hard, and didn’t seem eager to have at Galahad again. Gawain was pretty sure he could keep the older man in check while Lancelot subdued Galahad. It was the Lancelot subduing Galahad part that went all wrong. The younger knight dove at Kolya’s legs and managed a take down before Lancelot pulled him off.
The First Knight had Galahad around the waist, but the younger man was like a crazed weasel, kicking and punching everything within reach. Gawain stepped in trying to grab a flailing limb or two, and got an elbow to the stomach that knocked the breath out of him. Doubled over and coughing, he tried to help the beleaguered Lancelot pull Galahad away from Kolya. Another un-aimed fist caught Gawain on the cheekbone. “Shit! Knock it off. Now!” he warned his friend. If Galahad would just calm down, things would fizzle out. Kolya was still down, and hopefully ready to quit.
That was all it took to end that hope. Before Gawain knew what hit him, Kolya had taken the bait, and charged full steam into the trio of knights. Gawain had just enough time to swivel in mid tumble so that his broken arm wouldn’t take the impact of the fall. It didn’t, but his knee twisted and muscles were pulled in ways they weren’t meant to go. He lay in the mud for a minute, a little stunned, rubbing his knee.
For fuck sake, now Lancelot was shoving Gawain unceremoniously, trying to get himself untangled. A sharp, bony elbow dug into the blonde knight’s ribs. That was it. Gawain had enough of trying to be a peacemaker. He’d taken all the shit he could without retaliating. It was time to hit somebody. There were three deserving targets. All he had to do was pick one. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 1 2010, 07:25 PM Post #280 |
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Author: sabor ice Date: Fri Jun 27, 2008 2:24 am Fleur & Cáel
Fleur bounced lightly on her heels at the praise she received from Lavinia, her infectious smile bright and endearing. There wasn't an ounce of disappointment on the child's face when she was told to return to her sister, on the promise she could help Lavinia again tomorrow. The girl chortled, one hand on her hip while the other pointed a knowing finger toward the healer. For the briefest of moments she appeared smug, cocky even. "What would you do without me?!" Fleur mused, rhetorically. She laughed again and twirled happily, hopping over to the door of the little storeroom, throwing one last glance toward Lavinia. "I can find my way back by myself! Bye, 'Vinia!" The blonde tugged open the heavy wooden and slipped out, making her way back into the main part of the ward. She skipped passed the bed of the sad man, sitting with the woman with her hair on fire (Dagonet and Saoirse), waving to them as she went on her way. It was hard to believe such a vibrant youth had been gravely ill only a couple days past. Cáel loitered just inside the infirmary door, hesitant to go any further. He did not forsake such houses of healing - he purely disliked them. Such a sad place it was, with unseen dangers lurking around every corner. The potent stench of death lingered in the form of an invisible black cloud, choking the very air he breathed. Certainly merely being present in the infirmary was potentially detrimental to his health. Ironically, it was not threat of sickness that made the Goth paranoid - it was everything else. The sight of the dead made him queasy, blood caused him to go weak in the knees, but the real kicker was the medical instruments. Torture devices. One glimpse was enough to whirlwind the man into a spell of near-death experience. Some would call that overreacting, but to Cáel the peril was very, very real. Hence, he would not remain longer than necessary. He left his belongings sitting near the door and reluctantly ventured deeper into the ward, one hand straight on either side of his face, blocking his peripheral vision and forcing his attention forward. He made a sour face, cringing, when he realized that he'd actually have to look toward beds in search of two small blonde girls. Pausing at the foot of one patient's bed, the man childishly debated with himself, nearly fitting with juvenile reluctance as he warily turned a dark eye toward the subject in question. All the Goth saw was a bloody bandage and he whimpered, brusquely turning away to walk right back out the way he had come, very nearly toppling over an object in his direct path. Black eyes met blue. "Whatsa matter with you?" the girl wondered. "You sick, mister?" Cáel was stunned to see a young blonde child peering questioningly up at him, her cherubic face heartbreakingly innocent. The man lowered his arms, momentarily forgetting all about his surroundings. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. Surely this was just a coincidence. Nevertheless, the Goth humored the situation, crouching before the little girl to meet her eye-to-eye. "Thankfully, no, child. I was actually just looking for someone," he replied, his voice velvet. "Me too!" Fleur chirped. "My sissy...she's around here somewheres." "Your sister?" Cáel wondered, emphatically. His smile broadened, the irony all too perfect to be a mere coincidence. He reached for Fleur's hand, and pat it gently. "Well, we mustn't keep her waiting, hm? Tell me what she looks like. I'll try to point her out for you." "Hmm..." the girl began, tapping a finger against her chin thoughtfully. She smiled then. "She's like me, but bigger!" "Well, that certainly is helpful," the Goth mused, tickling Fleur in the abdomen. She giggled, easily curbing to Cáel's enthusiasm. "Come. I'm certain we'll find her in no time. There's only so many places she could be, right?" "Uh-huh!" the seven year old exclaimed, slipping her little hand into Cáel's without caution or question, happy to let him lead. Alina
The healer scoffed lightly, nodding idly, reaching up to tuck stray hair behind her ear. If only that had been the reason! Alina could handle men acting like morons, thinking their alpha-male fighting was enough to make a woman swoon. That kind of rough-housing was tinted rose in comparison to the current brawl, far from being even remotely playful. This combat was raw, barbaric even, nerve-gnawing, and seemingly never-ending. It made Alina's blood run cold just thinking about the condition everyone - namely Galahad and Kolya - would be in afterward. Stupid, stupid men!
Alina gave a non-committal shrug of her shoulder. She appeared relatively calm despite feeling slightly cornered by the two women, each gently prodding for an answer to the immediate cause of the brawl, probably hoping Alina could enlighten them. She respected Neeve and Linnesse, but was reluctant to satisfy their curiosities with any honest reply. After all, honesty had perpetuated the brutal scene unfolding before their eyes. Alina wasn't ready to openly admit her role in all of this to them, or anyone. "I wish someone could make them stop. Galahad's injured," she said, voice filled with genuine concern. Two more men engaged in fist-fighting, barreling out the door into the courtyard as well. Alina placed her face in her lap and groaned against her hands, head shaking in disbelief. Would the madness never end? Ash
Listening to Eala prattle on in her pitiful, incoherent speech, sounding like a strangled goat, combined with her petulant persistence, was enough to test Ash's patience to the limit. Oh, he felt bad for her alright, but the fact remained there was nothing he could do. He couldn't bring the girl's brother back, and he couldn't let her run off with a vengeful spirit back into the heart of the fort where she'd inevitably be tracked down and killed. Ash wished he could just make her understand. To leave, it would be now or never. They reached a deserted lane and he released her hand, turning her to face him and hunkering before her in spite of himself. "Eala...Eala listen...I lost you once, I won't lose you again, understand me?" he told her, tone gritty from blame he obviously placed upon himself for her initial capture. His hands remained on either side of her head, attempting to hold her clouded gaze. He blew out a sharp sigh through his nostrils, noting the overwhelming sorrow in her eyes and feeling useless in his inability to truly console her. He didn't know how much of what he was to tell her she would be able to grasp, so despite the dire circumstances they were under, the Woad took a considerable amount of time speaking slowly on her behalf, hoping she'd understand. "The gate is near. We will go now...but we will return someday. I swear to you, we will..." he pleaded. His intense dark eyes were honest and searching for acceptance from her. "We must go now." |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 1 2010, 07:27 PM Post #281 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Fri Jun 27, 2008 7:28 am Linnesse
Linnesse continued to gaze despairingly on the fight, wishing herself that something could be done. Derfel was out of it- she cast a glance over her shoulder to make sure- but how much destruction was going on, and for no reason? With a sigh, she set her half-finished bowl of stew down on the nearest table, not event thinking she could finish it now. How could she think of eating when there was something like this going on? "Isn't there anything we can possibly do?" she asked, looking appealingly up to Neeve, who had always seemed to her to be a sensible person. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 1 2010, 07:29 PM Post #282 |
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Author: Darya Date: Fri Jun 27, 2008 10:43 am Neeve
Galahad was injured, too? Now that made at least three injured men involved in that fight out there. Neeve briefly rolled her blue eyes as some of the shouting from the knights reached them through the open door. She pondered the other womens' words. It was one of the moments in which she wished she would be someone else…and not 'just' a healer with just enough fight experience to defend herself if absolutely necessary…and that only with her fight staff nearby. “Well, I don’t think it would be wise to get ourselves involved as well…” A pause. “Do you think there are some buckets with cold water somewhere in here? Maybe splashing that on them would do...”, the Briton then mused grimly…yet she was quite serious about this. There was no way the three of them could separated a bunch of fighting knights with their own hands, was there? So they had to find another way since apparently the guys were not even close to ending their stupid doing themselves. “Or maybe some free ale would distract them enough to stop this…”, the healer added and glanced questioningly at both women… Darya
She heard the voice…the oh so familiar voice. And yet the dark Sarmatian hesitated for a moment. Darya still had no idea how to say what she had to say…not to mention that she was almost afraid of what she might see when entering the room. Afraid of Arthur perhaps being in an even worse condition than when she had left. And what if she had just woken him? A brief frown creased the woman’s brow…but then she slowly pushed the door open and stepped into the room… …just to be confronted with a scenery she certainly had not expected. If it had been Lancelot she was looking at the moment she entered the room, Darya would not have been surprised at all. But instead it was someone she had not seen in a rather long time…and it caught her completely off guard. The female Sarmatian blinked slowly and pushed the large hood of her thick cloak back so that her dark hair could fall in long slight tresses about her shoulders again. A part of her was highly suspicious about that – of all people at Badon – it was Eyla, who apparently had made herself pretty comfortable in the Commander’s quarters. Darya did manage to maintain a rather neutral, somewhat concerned face expression…but it was a mask. Like Lancelot, like Arthur himself, she usually was quite good in hiding her feelings if necessary; though this ability had subsided a little since Arthur had stepped into her life. Often enough, it were her eyes that gave her away in such situations…and also now all the sorrow and confusion she had been feeling for days now was momentarily replaced by something else. But momentarily only. However, the woman’s dark gaze slowly shifted from Eyla to Arthur and she tilted her head slightly…the rational part of her taking over control as she did so. “I just wanted to see how you are doing…”, Darya finally said in a calm voice and made a step forward when she realized that she was still standing by the door, “…unless of course I’m interrupting something…” The dark-haired then attempted a smile…but it did not really reach her eyes. And why? Because she was not sure what to make out of the situation in front of her. “Since things were rather…busy…this morning, I was wondering if you managed to get at least some rest…”, she added and shot a glance at Eyla, who would certainly be the first target of her accusations in case Darya would not like her lover’s reply; no matter if deserved or not. Her main focus was still on the Roman in the bed though when she undid the brooch that was holding her cloak in place…, already trying to read in Arthur’s face and eyes. And with that, honest concern returned completely to her dark eyes… |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 2 2010, 03:33 PM Post #283 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Fri Jun 27, 2008 3:40 pm Drake An onlooker might mistake the scene that he saw before him in that new room. Drake was standing protectively above Linnette, his arms about her shoulders and she had her head resting back agiainst his shoulder. It was quite an obviously tender looking picture but Drake was pretty certain that he held Linnette and only thought of her, but he was pretty certain that it was not his face she would want to see when she looked around. That knowledge didn't bother him, oddly. He was quite content to be 'the other man' in her mind. The one who was there, the one who wanted nothing in return but to be sure of her safety. He could be that man. It didn't mean he couldn't wish...
The Spaniard breathed an amused laugh, his eyes glancing down at the woman's face. He could only see her out of the very corner of his eye but he watched her nonetheless. They remained thus for a few quiet moments ...
... this he had not been expecting. Linnette did not move from her position looking out the window and Drake tried not to react in any way to her question. It was the first time that anyone had actually asked him that question... In all those years he had never had anyone address his past so directly, so bluntly. Having said that, few people ever knew about his past to ask him such a direct, blunt question. And how was he to answer? With the truth? She deserved the truth, oh she deserved it! But would the truth only make things worse for her? To know that he had utterly fallen apart on the death of his wife though the situation was entirely different. In those moments while he thought, Drake's hand had loosened about her shoulder and slid down a fraction to hold her upper arm. His lips pursed and he stared sightlessly out the window, thinking about Cecile. About all she had meant to him. Should Drake tell Linnette that Cecile had not simply died... that he had killed her? How did he do that? "I... " he paused, took a deep breath and dipped his head, eyes shut, his nose tickled by the auburn strands of her hair. I fell apart because I had killed my wife and my brother... Guilt ate away at all that was inside of me and left me as this shell.. he thought, but knew it was the wrong thing to say. For though she had asked about him, this was not about him really. This was about her and how she was going to pick up the pieces and muscle onwards. "I became the man I am now." he told her in a whisper, lifting his face and raising his hand back to a more proper place upon her shoulder, his body ormal behind her though not uncomfortable or unwelcoming. He just told himself, forced himeslf to remember why he did not deserve to enjoy this contact. "She was very beautiful you know... and my sons were strong, healthy. No one ever deserves to go on without those they love but that is how the world works and we must recover. You don't have to go it alone." Mari The cottage would be amazing when they were finished with it. It would shine and be welcoming to anyone and everyone. There would be flowers in the garden, herbs on the sill, sheets drying by the fire and children's laughter. All imagined in Mari's head though she did not think to wonder where the children's laughter might cmoe from... or more precisely where the laughing children came from! Things were beginning to come together quite nicely for her. Just a few things to sort out. Her father... Rafe and perhaps she might find some sort of peace with Rowan. Why there was a letter from her she had no idea but perhaps.. Mari only got a certain way in her thoughts before Milan... reacted! Strangely! The young woman gave a squeek of surprise as he grabbed har hands and placed them on his shoulders She pulled her head back and looked at him with a giggle, eyes wide and widening even more when he started to move, moving them.... "Dancing?" she laughed, looking down at their feet, their crowns touching as she watched the way her little feet seemed to be in constant threat of being crunched by Milan's. Of course Mari put that down to her own clumsiness, not Milan's. Their movements were awkward at first, but it soon smoothed and Mari looked up, staring in surprise at Milan's pale face so close to hers. She was griinning widely, delightedly - that expression turning into adoration when he tipped his head forward and rested his forehead against hers. The young woman shut her eyes, letting Milan lead her through the steps of this new dance.
The soft 'music' that he supplied made her laugh softly and she parted her lips, adding in a - 'Dah-dah-dada-da da da-" to accompany his soft utterings. And just as Milan had hoped it was enough to distract the brunette from her earlier question about the letter and Mari continued dancing slowly about the cottage until her feet began to tire. She gave a whisper of laughter and tipped her face a little bit upwards, brushing her lips softly against Milan's but not stopping the slow dance that their feet were still quite involved in. "This is how I've always wanted things, Milan. Just ... happy... quiet, just the people that I care about. I only wish Ade was still around to see what we're going to do here. And that Kolya wasn't such a bloody ... fool of a man!" she paused before saying 'fool' and then blew the word out as a laugh, laying her head on Milan's shoulder, eyes staring into the distance. "Do you think it will last? The peace and quiet? Or do you think something will happen and everything will get turned upside down again?" Mari asked after a few momens, her voice shaky with dread at his answer. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 2 2010, 03:35 PM Post #284 |
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Author: sabor ice Date: Fri Jun 27, 2008 4:40 pm Alina
Alina was accepting that everything was completely out of their control. Several knights and soldiers filled with uncontrollable drunken rage were duking it out. She and the other two women were powerless to do anything, and so they were forced to stand by and wait. They'd tire eventually, they'd knock each other unconscious...something. Only then would it end. Neeve's words caused Alina to raise her head from her lap and look up at the raven-haired woman in sheer disbelief. "And, you honestly believe something like that would actually help the situation?" she replied reproachfully, sending her wobbly stool toppling over as she stood. The woman brusquely stalked away, through the kitchens, and out the back door of the tavern, eyes ablaze with insufferable frustration and grief. Tears would not even come anymore. Galahad hadn't even been able walk properly to begin with - how the hell he was still able to fight was mind-blowing. She was horrified, appalled even, that Neeve could even suggest such a thing as feeding the men more alcohol at such a time as this. She was a healer of all people - she should've known better! The men wanted to bash each other's brains into the ground like mindless barbarians, and Neeve wanted to fuel their fire - fine - but Alina wanted no more part in it. Her plate was full. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 2 2010, 03:36 PM Post #285 |
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Author: Starbelle Date: Fri Jun 27, 2008 5:42 pm Tatiana Feeling his lips leave hers, she shivered softly when he trailed a path from her lips to her jawline and neck. Her eyelids opened slowly when Adian finished, as if spell-bound or entranced by what he did.
"No, Adian. I didn't mind, I didn't mind that at all. I enjoyed that, actually." Tatiana replied with a grin on her face, almost mirroring his. Her eyes glancing up at him, meeting his as he stood there, enjoying what she saw. Tilting her head, she glanced at him out from underneath her eyelashes, her grin turning mischievious as an idea took root in her mind involving him. Getting out of the bathing pool herself, she bent down and collected the towel to dry herself with before getting dressed.
"Yes, Adian. I'd like that very much since I've never eaten by firelight before. Thank you for inviting me. That sounds like a wonderful idea for her, love. I'm sure Thorn would appreciate that from both of us." She replied, agreeing with his plan for Thorn. |
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