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June 2008
Topic Started: Mar 23 2010, 07:18 PM (3,709 Views)
golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Starbelle
Date: Mon Jun 02, 2008 7:44 pm
Jols


Dagonet
 
"Thank you, Jols. Once more you saved my knightship..."


"You're welcome, Dagonet. Its nothing less than what you would
do for me, were our positions reversed." The squire replied
nodding

Dagonet
 
"I don't know what we would do without you around."


Looking down at Dag and seeing the seriousness in the other
Sarmatian's face, Jols felt his face go hot at the unexpected
compliment that he just received from him. Feeling speechless
for a few moments, the squire just sat there on the bench
until something came to him.

"I thank you for that compliment, my friend." He said in quiet
understanding.

Then remembering something that the First Knight said to him
during their previous conversation struck him as funny sending
Jols into laughter for a few moments, causing his brown eyes
to sparkle like stars in the nighttime sky.

"Lancelot missed out on a perfect opportunity. If he thought I
was being too chatty during our conversation before, he missed
seeing me completely speechless." The squire said, laughter
still in his voice at the thought.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: sabor ice
Date: Mon Jun 02, 2008 10:09 pm
Milan


Mari
 
"What? You look like you've seen a ghost."


In fact Milan had seen ghosts, too many in fact. Mostly in
dreams. They haunted him, only they weren't ghosts really.
Just memories. Skin-crawling memories. Only as of late they
hadn't been as pointed. Instead he'd mostly dream of Mari, but
sometimes those were also too heinous for words. He could
never tell her about them. She would fear him or hate him. He
would never risk to lose her that way.

Her face nuzzled against his palm thrust him back into
reality. As he peered down into her innocent face, his brow
furrowed pensively and his clear eyes clouded over, appearing
darker than usual. His fingers curled inward and he withdrew
his hand completely as worry ceased and another emotion
unexpectedly set in - anger. He couldn't comprehend her
obliviousness. Was she really so unaware of the danger she
quite possibly could've been in had he not found her? What if
that man had been like Mordred? What if he had hurt her or
worse? It was not safe to be so naive, so trusting - he would
know. How could Mari have been so careless?

All of the things he wanted so badly to say to her, to make
her understand, washed over him like waves of acid. Anger soon
simmered to pure suffering. Did she not realize how much she
meant to him? What would he do without his Mari?

He sighed sharply in frustration and did not meet her gaze, as
he tugged the towel off her head and slapped it to her chest.
He gave a jut of his thumb behind him toward the bath and
turned aside, folding his arms across his chest. His eyes were
distant now, brimmed with tears of anguish; his forehead
smoothed, but his mouth remained fixed into a permanent frown.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: lady ione
Date: Tue Jun 03, 2008 8:11 am
Adian


He stood by the window of his quarters, and stared out into
the rainy afternoon. His turned for a moment to where Fiona
was still asleep. She had been a good friend, but now he had
done some thinking....things were still not safe for her at
the fort. No one would understand why a woad would be so
friendly and so against fighting.

And there were some who just plain did not like woads.

Adian had no liking for them, especially now that they had
taken Thorn and their child from his life. He hated them, but
Fiona had seemed different, and that was what he liked. This
made him feel torn between liking and not liking her. She was
a friend, but she was still the enemy. Not wanting to disturb
her, Adian quietly moved to where his cloak hung on a peg by
the door, and making sure his tunic was laced up and loosly
tied, placed the cloak over his shoulders, and quietly stepped
out of the room closing the door behind him. The cold damp air
hit him....he felt numb at the loss of Thorn, so much so that
even Fiona had not been able to comfort him that much. The
days that seemed to have that certain warmth and brightness
about them now seemed darker and more depressing...

Fiona.

His thoughts went back to her for a moment. Somehow, he had to
think of a place where she'd be safe, and she'd be accepted.
Back with her own kind? Or was there some place else? Adian
began to walk slowly down the corridor, deep in thought...
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Kay
Date: Tue Jun 03, 2008 8:18 am
Guinevere


Mona
 
“Princess need I remind you that I am one of your finest
warriors, trained by you, yourself? I am quite sure that
I’m up to the challenge at hand or Merlin would never
have ordered me to come with you. I will shadow you as
you make your way through the commons toward the stables
and hopefully take out anyone who threatens to
interfere,”


Mona ducked away behind one of the buildings before Guinevere
had chance to reply to her outburst. The Woad princess was
less than happy at being spoken to in such a manner, but she
would have to let the matter lie for now; they had more
important things to contend with.

She set off toward the stables, her keen eyes darting around
her constantly, although she was somewhat hampered by her
disguise.Guinevere kept to the shadows, sliding stealthily
along the sides of outbuildings and down gloomy alleyways. All
the while, her senses were on alert; she felt an unease,
something she couldn't quite put her finger on, but she knew
for certain that it wasn't the inhabitants of the fortress
that were the cause of her foreboding.

Sometimes an enemy can come from a surprising source.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: golden_trillium
Date: Tue Jun 03, 2008 8:44 am
Tristan


Malcus
 
“We need one more mount. It doesn’t matter which one,
any old mare will do."


Tristan gave a snort of half-amused agreement to that
statement as he led Tirgatao out into the aisle alongside
Barbattus and the prisoner. He had prepared everything with as
much efficiency as possible- though he didn't skimp on
anything either- and now all his weapons were in place, his
saddlebags holding all the necessities for what he hoped to
all the Gods would be a brief trip. But he was prepared to be
out longer, if necessary. One had to always be prepared for
everything- not being ready was what got men killed.

And he had hardly taken his eyes off the Woad at all. She
seemed almost to grow in his mind, a spider-like creature even
under the warmer clothing she now wore, grotesque, in a way-
not quite human. Now, he looked down on her with a slight curl
of his lip that was almost disgust, the raised his eyes to
Barbattus- though he still kept Neeria in his sights, eying
her surreptitiously even though he appeared to be focused
elsewhere.

"I'll watch her," her offered huskily, making a small gesture
towards the horses to indicate that he meant while Barbattus
readied his own beast.

"I might even help her mount," he added, looking back at
Neeria now a now-unmistakeable sneer of derision in his soft
voice. The woman almost certainly did not know how to ride.
She was a Woad, and Woads had no appreciation for horses, not
like civilized, real people. She would sit in the saddle like
a sack of grain, and maybe be scared enough to wet herself
about it, too. Damned blue barbarians- and she was planning
treachery, Tristan just knew it.










Linnette

Well, that was done. Linnette set down her quill, put the
cover neatly on her ink bottle, and leaned forward to blow the
ledger page dry, having recorded everything that she needed
to. The accounting was done for the day, and now it was time
to turn herself to the exhausting task of- apparently- moving
herself out of her room and into a new one. It was daunting,
almost impossible-seeming- but now, in a calmer state than she
had been when she had fruitlessly hit at the stone wall,
Linnette found that focusing on the work to be done was a
steadying, almost comforting influence. If she could think
hard enough about the small, mechanical aspects to the task,
she could avoid the larger implications of it- the part about
Gedeon being gone. As she stood up and left the office, she
repeated the small things to herself over and over, holding
onto them fast with her mind. I need to find Jols, or else
Amadeus's clerk. One of them, and then I need to ask them if
there are any quarters available. That's what I need to do.
Find one of them. Where are they likely to be at this hour?
Thinking over the hypothetical details of a squire's or a
clerk's schedule, Linnette shut the office door behind her,
crossed the stairwell, and came into the kitchen.

The smells of cooking food smote her in the face like a blow.
She could pick out the scent of venison in the stew, rich and
so thick it seemed to clog her nostrils, and cabbage and some
other vegetables, the same as they always were, but somehow
singularly unpleasant now, sticking to the back of her throat
and cloying at her lungs. Her stomach rebelled, churning
hollowly, but the main effect seemed to be on her legs, which
felt sudddenly like water, unable to support her. She clutched
at the corner of the big kitchen table, focusing her eyes for
a moment on the flagstones of the floor, then blinked, pushed
off the table and made herself go on, out through the rest of
the kitchen activity and into the tavern proper. Her vision
seemed to narrow as she walked, her brain becoming fuzzy and
gray around the edges, and it was only dimly that she saw the
bar loom up in front of her, just past the doorway from
kitchen to tavern. She recognized it, though, for the sturdy
support that it was, and let herself nearly fall against it,
resting her forehead on the hard wooden surface with a wave of
relief. A deep breath...then another. The gray around the
edges of her vision began to recede...but her insides still
felt as weak and insubstantial as liquid, and she edged
towards one of the bar stools, hoping to get it under her
while she finished recovering herself.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Darya
Date: Tue Jun 03, 2008 9:26 am
Darya


Darya kept watching the stranger (Cáel) even when he moved to
one of the free tables and ordered something from one of the
serving maids. His mere appearance had sparked her interest.
It was dark, yet not intimidating or scaring… How very
intriguing.

However, the door to the tavern was then pushed open twice…and
the woman’s gaze shifted towards the building’s entrance.
First another man entered. A soldier obviously (Titrus). And
some time later, a blonde woman (Catherine) followed, who
pretty soon approached the soldier. Darya smirked slightly at
the scene that followed and asked herself just how long it
would take the blonde until she had twisted him around her
little finger in an ever so sweet way. The Sarmatian did not
know the other female, but that woman had this ‘golden glow’
about her that sooner or later hardly any man could resist…

Still smirking to herself, the dark-haired glanced back at the
mysterious stranger…just in time to see him saluting her with
his mug. Darya cocked an eyebrow…but then mimicked his gesture
with her own mug. Then she sipped some more tea and tipped her
head to the other side, wondering what might have brought the
stranger to this place.

From the corner of her dark eyes, the Sarmatian then caught
sight of yet another movement not too far away…and she noticed
Linnette entering from the kitchen. A small frown creased her
brow. The redhead did not look that well…which was no surprise
of course, but still… Anything but well actually. Should she
care? Despite the…tension…between them? Darya shot a glance
towards Drake. The Roman had been with Linnette at Arthur’s
room…and maybe he had been waiting for Linnesse’s sister here
anyway. Had he noticed Linnette, too?

Sighing quietly, Darya then glanced into her mug for a moment
before drinking yet some more of the hot tea…and then her gaze
returned to the pale stranger again, suddenly asking herself
which of the two colours of his hair was the real one…and how
and why it was two-coloured now… Yet a small part of her kept
Linnette’s sorry appearance in mind…just in case no one would
react…
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: LadyCastus
Date: Tue Jun 03, 2008 12:28 pm
Malcus Barbattus and Neeria


Malcus slid his hand down Falco's long lean flank. What a
magnificent beast. Malcus felt inclined to give the stable boy
a couple of extra coins because he'd taken such good care of
the captain's horse. Now the giant warhorse stood well-armed
and ready to ride out. Malcus was checking Falco's rear right
leg while still keeping an eye on the prisoner when Tristan
called out.

Tristan
 
I'll watch her


Malcus nodded his thanks to Tristan while he concentrated on
Falco.

Upon hearing his voice, Neeria looked down the long aisle of
stalls again as the scout made his way toward her with his
giant horse. Nervously, the small woad pulled at the sleeves
of her cowl and tunic that hung low past her hands. She was
hungry, the bread and soup that she and Eala had shared
earlier, long gone. Her stomach growled - the only sound in
the barn except for the slow methodical 'clop, clop' of
Tristan's horse as he led the animal down the aisle. Neeria's
dark eyes widened at the beast. She'd never been too fond of
horses, not used to them at all. The creature looked at her
with one black eye and shook his healthy mane as Tristan
approached. The scout stared at the woman as he neared, the
hatred clear on his face. Neeria concentrated on the tattooes
on his cheeks. She wondered what they meant. Tristan's wet
hair had dried some and wild strands of hair stuck out from
his braids, making him look wild and untamed. His thin lips
were pursed into a scowl and his eyebrows were knitted
together. The scout stopped, standing close enough to her that
Neeria had to look up at him. His golden eyes were like molten
lava burning into her. He was so close to her, that Neeria
could smell him. He had the familiar smell of her home.
Tristan smelled like the rain and like the dirt of the earth -
all things familiar and comforting to the fatigued woad.
Neeria closed her eyes and took in a deep breath of him, then
reopened her eyes and defied his stare.

Tristan
 
I might even help her mount


Neeria whispered so Malcus would not hear her, "You help me
yet again," she slowed her tongue to say his name just right,
"Tristan? I am grateful to you once more." She nervously added
quickly, "Perhaps your hatred for me is not as strong as you
think, Sarmatian."

"ere's a lady" the stable boy said as he approached the two.
The boy was holding the reigns of a gray mare with a black
mane dressed with blanket, saddle and bridle bit. "er name is
Sitra. She ain't much good but she ain't so bad 'eever. She'll
get 'er there in one piece I s'pose. Not so sure 'bout the way
back 'tho" he chuckled.

Malcus laughed as his brought Falco to join the others. "Well
done son," he said, slipping the boy those coins he so rightly
deserved. Tack her up and tie her off to Falco," Barbattus
said, still chuckling.

"Oy, captain!" the boy said cheerily, eyeing his coins like
they were candy.

"Go ahead and help the lady mount up, Tristan," the captain
said tipping his head toward Neeria, "this should be fun."
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Pinkie
Date: Tue Jun 03, 2008 3:53 pm
Saoirse


Lucius
 
"No, unfortunately not."


Saoirse had not truly expected him to answer her question and
so when he did her ears were pricked. She cast a curious look
towards him. Of course if he had have answered that he could
bring the dead back to life she would have run a mile
screaming obscenities back at him just as Lini had taught her
to do with anyone who claimed to be involved in such black
arts.

The red head narrowed her blue eyes, her head cocking to the
side with a puzzled look upon her pale features. Such a look
made her look incredibly young - incredibly innocent, but also
incredibly capable of seeing through a farce should she be
presented with one.

"Hmph." she responded to him. Something had changed in him
when she asked about his family. Oh Saoirse knew she was not
the only person on the run from her family! She knew that half
the world was trying to break the ties that bound them to a
family they loved but did not like. But Lucius gave her a
smile, a charming smile that, whilst genuine, was not filled
with any mirth. It was a suitable expression for his face she
thought.

His earlier outrage had been too Roman for her tastes.

Lucius
 
"No. No family. A Roman cohort found me at their burnt
down campfire in the morning. The Roman army is my
family. What about you? I know... Dagonet. But you do
not sound like being from Britain?"


Topic changed. Awkward situation deflected. And Saoirse
remained oblivious. She found his transition flawless and so
was not in the least suspicious about his story. She was, in
fact, amused and bewildered at how Romans thought.

"You Romans an' yer army. Yer whole legion is yer family an'
ye'd die fer anytime right?" she smirked, shaking her head as
she looked away from him, glancing down at her clothes,
brushing the dust away from the edges of her skirt to get rid
of any evidecen that she had been sitting on the ground at
all. She puffed out her cheeks, a wry smile on her fine red
lips when she looked up at Lucius, figuring out if she should
tell him the truth or lie. It would be an obvious lie for the
depths of her eyes made it impossible to give a convincing
lie. She shrugged, her wry smile turning impish. It looked a
peculiar expression considering the drying tears on her
cheeks.

Saoirse walked towards the door, pausing in front of Lucius
and bit her bottom lip. She shook her head at him, knowing he
would know she was lying but not attempting to hide the fact
that she was being dishonest.

"Nope - no family whats'ever." she lied. As she passed him she
pressed her hand to the side of his body just a little above
his hip, her troubled blue eyes peering out into the infirmary
ward. "Yer not a bad man ye know. Fer a Roman." she added with
a smile, walking out ahead of him and straightening her
shoulders. Inside she was shaking, terrified of facing
Dagonet, uncertain if she could keep herself composed. She
took a few steps and turned quickly, wiping her face
frantically. Her eyes lifted to Lucius as she stood almost on
his toes, looking up at him but not really seeing him -
"Do I still look a terrible mess? Will he know I was cryin'?"
the red head asked in a hushed whisper.









Catherine

If Catherine was able to be a little more clinical about her
profession she might have found incredible amusement in how
men reacted to her. She knew she was different to the other
whores at Badon Hill. She kept herself impeccably clean - not
something every man, married or not, had ever experienced. She
knew that she drew the eye as a swan in flight against the
night sky might - something completely out of the ordinary,
something that shone with an internal glow that the eye was
inevitably drawn to.

But she was not clinical in her approach to her job. She was
really quite involved in what she did and the effect she had
on people. It was usually in how they reacted to her that she
decided what type of 'whore' that each man would want her to
be.

This man was ... adorable. He was shy. He was unable to keep
his eyes on her or off of her, looking at the table, at his
soup and glancing fleetingly at her face. Catherine had a half
smile upon her pretty lips, her little finger idly curling a
tendril of golden hair around the length of it before loosing
the strands and then winding again.

Titrus
 
“Uh, not really, I was…uh…just having lunch. Uh…can
I…uh…buy you a drink? What would you like, my lady?”


The blonde wondered what was going through his mind. For
despite the fact that he claimed there was nothing on his mind
there most certainly was as his eyes became fixated on her
creamy bosom. Catherine waited with a patient but obviously
saucy smile upon her lips for him to refocus - and when he
did, he did that tiresome thing that all men did when
confronted with her sitting in front of them. An obvious whore
- an obvious but unusual whore. They treated her like a lady.

Catherine breathed a sweet laugh, shaking her head as she
looked down at the table. She shook her head.

"No.. no, my Lord." she intoned with a level of respect in her
voice and a twinkle of playfulness in her green eyes. All
earlier troubling thoughts about that extra coin had flitted
from her mind as she focussed on this man, on what she could
do for him and what he could do for her. Catherine did not
seek pleasure as such, for she had received that from Tristan
earlier - instead she was out for knowledge. Maybe he had
served on the continent?

Her little finger moved inwards, the tendrils twisting slowly
away from her skin and falling back against her smooth
shoulder. The tip of her finger touched her bottom lip and
softly tugged it downwards. Her eyes did not leave the man's
face as she crossed her legs beneath the table, allowing the
tip of her foot to brush against his shin as she did so. There
was not a flicker of recognition on her face that they had
made contact.

"Your soup... It's getting cold." she smiled, gesturing to his
bowl, knowing that her presence was a painful distraction,
certain that he would be nestled between her legs before the
sun fell, and knowing that her husky voice was quiet,
secretive, as if what she had just said was somethign that
only the two of them could share. Intimate. Suggestive. "You
don't mind me sitting at your table do you? I can move..."
Catherine purred, pointing over her shoulder with a lazy
gesture to the tables behind them and then over towards the
seat next to him on the bench as her little finger slid in
between her lips now, the fingernail braced against the flat
top of her teeth.









Galahad

Gawain
 
“It’s been a pleasure, as always, Lavinia,”


Galahad scoffed at his friend's comment, giving Gawain a
suffering look. Why was he always so .... so .... so
flirtatious with the old hag?! It was like he was trying to
get into her drawers or something! What good came of being
pal-like with the battle-axe? It wasn't like it ever worked
anyways. The young knight said nothing however, following
Gawain out into the cold and wet, giving a token shudder and
muttered curse at the weather as he shrugged into his dark
cloak -

Gawain
 
“Listen, I need to tell you something, and I could use a
drink first. Come with me to the tavern? Tell me the
truth, Is that wound going to be alright?”


He didn't like the sounds of this.

Galahad's brow furrowed and he tilted his head to the side,
trying to see GAwain's face though the fair-haired knight
looked away. His lips pursed in worry and he tensed his jaw,
nodding his head to the other Sarmatian's initial request to
go to teh tavern.

"Do us both good to get in out of this pissy rain." he
muttered irritably, sniffing as he was about to make his way
into the rain. Gawain's concerned look stopped him. Galahad
sighed dramatically and rolled his blue eyes -

"Oh for the love of the gods, Gawain... What do you think?" he
asked sulkily, "It'll leave a nice big scar on my stomach to
go with the rest of them won't it? It's not like I've never
had worse. Or you for that matter. It's just a scratch -- " he
finally conceded, realising he was being snippy with Gawain
when he was just tryign to be ... a friend. Galahad licked his
lips, frowning as he nodded towards the rain.

"Come on - let's get in out of this and get some food into us.
We could both use it. And you have to tell me what was going
on with you and that tasty whore earlier - the blonde?" the
young Sarmatian asked, grinning over his shoulder as he rushed
out into the rain and darted across in the direction of the
tavern.









Drake

Drake dragged his eyes away from the blonde when the door to
the back room opened. No one appeared immediately and granted
this was not hte first time he had thought Linnette was coming
back out and she wasn't in the past half-hour or so. Not
wanting to appear obvious, Drake looked away. He had finished
his dinner and had a full tankard of ale sitting in front of
him untouched. It seemed a waste but he couldn't sit there in
the tavern with nothing in front of him. Drake tried not to
imbibe too much alcohol because he knew the evils of it. He
knew how far into a bottle, or keg rather, that he could drink
himself and he knew how tempting and easy it was to become
lost in said keg.

His green eyes flickered towards a face, feeling eyes upon
him. He noticed Darya and saw her worried eyes flickering
between him and the bar. He frowned, casting a mere curious
eye towards what had her concerned.

And before he could even register what he was looking at Drake
was reacting.

He was on his feet and around his table, walking calmly but
with long strides, to Linnette's side. He was not obvious as
he put a hand on her elbow, the other around her front with a
hand to her hip as he directed her to the bar stool that she
had been seeking. His jaw was tense and he gestured for the
wench behind the bar to give him attention.

"Stew." he said gruffly, slipping a coin from nowhere onto the
counter, already looking away from her and down to Linnette.
He moved the hand from her hip but kept the one on her elbow a
moment longer. Once she was steady Drake placed his hand onto
the back of her neck, his whole arm tense as his finger made
contact with the soft, warm skin at the back of her neck.

"C'mon. Sit up. Take a breath." he said quietly, glancing over
his shoulder to give Darya a nod of his head to let her know
that everything was ok. Even though he wasn't sure things were
ok - not yet. Linnette was not in a good way at all.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: golden_trillium
Date: Tue Jun 03, 2008 4:59 pm
Tristan


Neeria
 
"You help me yet again. Tristan? I am grateful to you
once more. Perhaps your hatred for me is not as strong
as you think, Sarmatian."


Damn woman! Tristan’s teeth clenched together, his eyes
blazing with white-hot fury as he dropped Tirgatao’s reigns
and took a threatening step towards the Woad, wanting nothing
more than to choke the life out of her for that cocky
statement. He knew, perhaps, in some corner of his mind, that
he shouldn’t be letting her get to him like this, but damn it!
He did hate her, and he was not helping her! How dare she
stand there, slyly presuming that he really sympathized with
her? It was part of her tricks- her wizard master’s tricks,
too! Hardly hearing the exchange between Barbattus and the
stable boy, just barely registering the arrival of the
additional horses, Tristan closed his fingers around Neeria’s
skinny throat and pushed her up against the stall partition
behind her with a rough jerk. The nearness of their bodies
reminded him uncomfortably of his closeness with the whore
only a short time ago, for a completely different purpose, and
he squeezed harder, the better to blot that memory out.

“You know nothing about me,” he hissed fiercely, his fingers
digging into her neck. There was fear in her eyes now, he
fancied, and he dug his fingers harder, taking a fierce joy in
the hard, panicked beat of her pulse under his hands- until
the more rational part of him, the part that thought he ought
to stand stoically by and not let her see the effects of her
taunts, took over and made his fingers unclench, made them
release her and stand back, letting her step away from the
partition.

Malcus
 
"Go ahead and help her mount up, Tristan. This should be
fun."


That statement might have been interpreted as an order, a
command to help the captive mount- but Tristan, incensed and
still seeing blood before his eyes, chose not to take it that
way and stood back, crossing his arms before him, his jaw
clenched so tight it felt like a stone. Let her mount by
herself, then, if any help, however mockingly offered, was
taken as sympathy. She could get her own thrice-damned self up
on that horse, or be dragged behind it- he didn’t care. He
just didn’t want to touch her again- or, he feared, he might
do something he would regret. Or maybe not.








Linnette

Drake
 
"Stew. C'mon. Sit up. Take a breath."


Linnette breathed in deep, sucking the air deliberately down
her throat as she concentrated on getting herself together
again. She was no longer standing- the wooden surface of the
bar stool was underneath her, though she couldn’t exactly
remember sitting down. She couldn’t remember seeing Drake,
either, and yet he was beside her now, his voice a soft,
soothing rumble and his hand on the back of her neck, its
warmth soaking into her. She took another long breath, raising
her head and rolling it back a little against his fingers, her
eyes half closed. Her stomach seemed to have settled, though,
and her head felt real again, no longer stuffed and clouded
and gray. She blinked her eyes the rest of the way open- and
found her vision normal, though she felt drained, almost
not-quite-there.

“I’m…I’m all right,” she assured Drake in a voice little more
than a whisper, turning to him and meeting his eyes, and once
again seeing the worry that had been there so often today. He
really shouldn’t worry about her so much, she thought
distractedly…he should smile more. That thought came to her
seemingly out of the gray delirium she had almost slipped
into, suddenly formed in her head without having anything to
do with anything.

One of the bar girls, on the other side of the counter, set
down a bowl of stew across from Linnette, her head ducked a
little bit so that she could search Linnette’s face. She, too,
looked worried- and Linnette experienced another pang at how
much inconvenience she had been causing everyone today. She
couldn’t be like this- she needed to pull herself together.
She had too much to do.

“What’s this?” Linnette asked softly, confusedly, as she
realized belatedly that the barmaid had not just been setting
down that bowl to relieve herself of the burden for a moment-
she was now pushing it across the counter to Linnette. It was
for her, apparently- and she hadn’t asked for it. Linnette
glanced questioningly to Drake, then back to the stew- the
smell was sending a hollow stab down into her stomach again,
but she didn’t think she could eat- her mouth was as dry as a
bone and tasted funny.

“No…” she whispered, pushing it away, averting her eyes, and
shaking her head. “I’m not hungry.” That wasn’t precisely
true, though it wasn’t exactly untrue, either…truthfully,
Linnette was not sure what she felt about that bowl of stew,
which still seemed to sit there looking expectantly up at her,
even though she had just made a go of refusing it.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: LadyCastus
Date: Tue Jun 03, 2008 6:57 pm
Neeria and Malcus Barbattus


Tristan
 
You know nothing of me


He moved like a flash. Before she knew it, Tristan closed the
gap between them and grabbed Neeria by her neck. Her eyes
bulged in their sockets as the scout tightened his grip,
pinning the small woman to the stable wall. The woad’s eyes
began to water and she panicked as the scout squeezed his long
fingers even tighter around her throat. Neeria’s tongue
suddenly hung limply from her mouth as she tried to scream;
only no sound would come from her body. The chords in her neck
stretched and her face turned a violent deep red color which,
just as quickly, suddenly turned blue. Because of the lack of
food and water, Neeria grew weak quickly, her consciousness
fading fast.

The woad looked at Tristan, her dark eyes pleading for mercy.
But the scout seemed almost gleeful while choking her. With
all of her strength, Neeria grabbed the scout’s wrist and dug
her fingernails into his flesh, trying to get him to release
his grip. But Tristan was very strong, his wrists as hard as
rock. Just when Neeria thought it useless to continue
struggling and right when the room swam from her vision,
Tristan let her go. The woad slumped to the floor, hand to her
throat, gasping for air. She knew the Roman was not aware what
Tristan had done to her but she would not call out. Neeria
looked up at Tristan with beseeching eyes. All that met her
gaze in return was hatred.

The pressure of the past 24 hours came crashing down on the
woman like boulders. She felt rage, sadness and despair. She
was furious. “Why?” she whispered angrily to Tristan,
regaining her strength. “I have told you that my fight is not
with you! I could have killed you on that road and you know
it. One day you will remember that, scout.” She would never
dignify him by using his name ever again. “If hatred is what
you want, then that is what you will get,” Neeria spat at him,
angry tears threatening to spill from her dark eyes. The woad
gathered her wits about her and used the partition wall to
stand up. Her short legs wobbled as she struggled to her feet.
She glared at Tristan once more and walked around the
partition.

“How do I get onto this foul, smelly creature?” she asked the
stable boy indignantly. Neeria looked at Tristan once more,
throwing daggers into his flesh with her eyes.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: linnet
Date: Tue Jun 03, 2008 8:22 pm

Gawain


Galahad
 
"Oh for the love of the gods, Gawain... What do you
think? It'll leave a nice big scar on my stomach to go
with the rest of them won't it? It's not like I've never
had worse. Or you for that matter. It's just a scratch


Gawain grinned apologetically at the youngest knight whose
answer to his question had been irritated and cantankerous
enough to satisfy him for now that Galahad’s body was healing
properly. A short quiet answer, even if it claimed all was
fine, would have worried him. Their routine of ‘are you
alright?’ ‘yes, I’m fine, dammit’ had been going on so long it
might seem pointless to anyone else. But outside of holding
the other man down and letting a medicus render an opinion on
the spot, asking was the best way to get an answer. The
answer, though, didn’t come from the words spoken in reply,
but from knowing how to read each other for signs and clues
hidden behind the words.

Galahad
 
"Come on - let's get in out of this and get some food
into us. We could both use it. And you have to tell me
what was going on with you and that tasty whore earlier
- the blonde?"


The scraggly knight frowned, not knowing what Galahad was
talking about. What tasty whore? But quickly he understood. He
let out his breath loudly and shook his head. Catherine
certainly wasn’t something he had any desire to talk to
Galahad about, and his brief conversations with her were no
one’s business but their own. Apparently seeing them together
had whetted Galahad’s curiosity and imagination, resulting in
the first grin Gawain had seen from him today. He didn’t like
the grin, for all it implied, but he knew that Galahad was
only reacting as anyone might. So he sprinted to catch up with
the younger knight, and said nothing as they hurried through
the rain.

When they entered the tavern, Gawain tried to brush some of
the rain off his cloak while he looked around for an isolated
table where he and Galahad could talk. He started to walk
toward the far side. Nearly there, he saw Catherine straight
ahead, sitting with a soldier. Without thought, a broad smile
of friendly recognition lit the knight’s face and eyes. Then
he stopped, His smile died as his gaze dropped to the floor.
Of course. She was working, offering herself to the man in
exchange for money and knowledge. It shouldn’t concern him, he
knew, but he didn’t continue any farther. “Wait,” he said to
Galahad who was looking at him quizzically. “Not that way.
Let’s sit over here.” He turned to his right and claimed a
small table close to the wall, where he took the seat facing
away from the other tavern patrons.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: sabor ice
Date: Tue Jun 03, 2008 11:50 pm
Cáel


The tavern was attracting quite the turn-out, most notably,
the male population. A lovely feast for the eyes always seemed
to improve the course of a meal, although handsome company was
always better. Cáel inconspicuously surveyed potential suitors
in between spoonfuls of stew; he dipped his bread into his
bowl and ripped off a piece, chewing politely as his gaze
momentarily stalled on the newest arrivals. Knights by the
look of them. They nearly passed for brothers - that thought
perversely excited Cáel for a moment or two, but then he
decided against it. The one (Gawain) was a bit too hairy for
his liking, and the other one (Galahad) just looked to be in a
plain foul mood. There was a rather hunky piece of man over by
the bar (Drake), but he seemed well pre-occupied with his
female counter-part (Linnette). There were various other
soldiers, but most of them were older and not exceptionally
appealing.

Cáel gave a petulant pout of his lips, clearing becoming
disappointed by the depressing selection, and went back to
finishing his meal. Perhaps Romanus? he thought wickedly,
remembering the bright-eyed boy from the gate. He had had a
certain charm about him after all. Business before pleasure,
he ultimately decided with an internal groan.

The Goth leaned over to collect his belongings over his
shoulder, and it was only then he noticed the dark-haired
beauty (Darya) still staring at him from across the room.
Naturally, she was obviously not his type, however the man
thought it only prudent to go and introduce himself. That was
the polite thing to do, was it not?

"Hello, pet," Cáel said, with a flash of his best charming
smile as he came to stand across the table from Darya. He had
spoken to her as if they were life-long friends - there was
absolutely no implication in his tone to suggest he was being
anything but platonic toward her. He oozed genuine
friendliness. "I am called Gabriel...Gabe if you wish...And,
you are?"
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golden_trillium

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Author: golden_trillium
Date: Wed Jun 04, 2008 6:23 am
Tristan


Neeria
 
“Why? I have told you that my fight is not with you! I
could have killed you on that road and you know it. One
day you will remember that, scout. If hatred is what you
want, then that is what you will get. How do I get onto
this foul, smelly creature?”


Tristan stood impassively, arms crossed, a twitch of a mocking
upturn at the corner of his mouth as he watched the Woad face
the horse indignantly and demand instructions for getting on
it. Ignorant devils, the Woads were! The stable boy glanced
quickly to Barbattus, then to Tristan, for permission, and
since it seemed to be granted, stepped forward a little
nervously and indicated the stirrup. Most likely he had never
been this close to a Woad before, and his curiosity showed in
his wide eyes.

"Here, La..." he cut off the title mid-syllable, probably in
response to Tristan's ferocious glare. Lady indeed. Foul
animal was more like it.

"You put one foot here, then swing your other leg over. I can
hold it for you." Once again glancing to the adult men
uncertainly, he stepped forward and held the stirrup; Tristan
could practically see the conflict on the lad's face, the
warring impulses to treat Neeria like a woman, or like a
prisoner, both of which she was, but which two conditions
probably virtually never intersected in a person needing
assistance to mount a horse.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Pinkie
Date: Wed Jun 04, 2008 10:32 am
Drake


Drake had no idea why he was pretending nothing was wrong. He
knew that if it were him that he would not want people to be
fussing over him. He knew that there was nothing worse than
being reminded that you were mourning by the sorrowful,
pitying looks you got from people. Perhaps Linnette was
nothing like him deep down inside, or maybe she was just like
him and would appreciate every little wave of his hand to
dismiss people's attentions from her.

She was steadying a little once she sat on the stool. Her head
lolled backwards and the tendrils of hair at the very base of
her head touched the back of his hand. It shouldn't have done,
but it did send jolts of intense heat throughout his entire
body. Such a stupid, tiny, insignificant contact between them
but seemingly it was enough to stop his heart and clog his
lungs so that he just stood there, his hand unmoving, watching
her pale face rise from the counter and look around in
confusion.

Linnette
 
“I’m…I’m all right, What’s this? No… I’m not hungry.”


The stew arrived.

Drake's hand moved down a fraction and he found enough control
in his body to let himself take a breath inwards. He glanced
at the bar-maid, gave her a chagrined shake of his head and
waved his free hand, indicating for her to be gone. Linnette
was looking at the stew, questionning it -

"Thank you. She's fine." Drake told the woman behind the bar,
gesturing for her to leave as Linnette looked up at him with
troubled hazel eyes that were red about the rims from crying.
The upset was already marking her - Drake wondered if he had
ever seen her smile before... ? Would she ever smile again?
When she denied her hunger Drake simply cocked an eyebrow and
pushed the bowl closer to her.

"Regardless - you need to eat." he told her in a quiet voice,
keeping the 'drama' at a minimum, aware of the eyes that were
on them from around the room. He felt his heart jump-start and
cleared his throat. His hand still cupped the bowl of stew in
front of Linnette, his other hand, the bandaged hand, resting
at the very top of her back. His brow furrowed a little as he
glanced back towards the room she had come from and his lips
parted.

The serving wench came back over, parting her lips to ask
Linnette something but a firm, furious look from Drake made
her smack her lips shut instead. She gave a small harumph and
walked onwards. Drake watched her go until she was far enough
away that she would not overhear.

"Did you get what work you had to do completed?" he asked,
distracted as he looked around the room with a slightly angry
light to his green eyes, warning people to stop waiting for
her to fall apart like they expected.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: LadyCastus
Date: Wed Jun 04, 2008 10:43 am
Neeria and Malcus Barbattus


Malcus looked at Tristan first and then at the prisoner. He
didn’t know what was going on between those two, but he knew
there was something. Malcus was a keen observer of human
nature and his instincts were sharp. He looked at the woad
woman and really focused on her. He wondered what she was
really up to. If Merlin were any kind of leader, he would have
known long beforehand if he had a traitor in his midst. Merlin
would have known she couldn’t be trusted and therefore would
have killed this midget long ago. Barbattus reasoned that they
were probably heading into a trap – a trap that had been
arranged prior this bitch’s capture. Malcus loved his friend
Arthur like a brother, but what better target than Arthur’s
big heart of mercy? Merlin probably orchestrated the whole
bloody thing, having the little creature attack Arthur under
the pretense of trying to kill him. Of course Arthur would
show her mercy! Then the little bitch would lead him right
into a slaughter.

Malcus narrowed his dark eyes at the woman, a storm now
brewing on his face. Well, he didn’t trust her any more than
Tristan did and would slice her throat at the first sign of
trouble. He would see to it that she was dead before his own
death if it came to that. The captain lifted a hand to his
face and pinched his brow between his forefinger and thumb.
But still, there something with her that just didn’t seem
quite right. She didn’t seem like a … well, that was
ridiculous. Of course she was a fighter and a damn good one if
she had gotten that close to Arthur. She was in his saddle!!
Bloody Christ, Arthur, why didn’t you kill her and be done
with this? Then Malcus would be cuddling between the plump
wench’s thighs again by nightfall. But it was not meant to be.
Malcus was sworn to honor and duty came first.

“You may hold her stirrup, but let her find her own way,”
Malcus said to the stable boy. The boy blinked at the captain
nervously and backed away as Neeria tried to lift her short
leg (foot actually) to the stirrup.

The woman’s legs were too short. There was no way she was
going to be able to get her foot high enough to reach up to
the shiny piece of metal footing. Neeria thought back to when
she attacked Arthur. She’d had a running start then and
Castus’ horse had reared, lowering its middle enough for her
to jump and claw her way up. But now, the horse was still and
straight and Neeria had no momentum.

Feeling the men glaring at her, she refused to turn to them
for help. The woman knew they were enjoying her discomfort.
Neeria lowered her foot and struggled to pull up the too-big
trousers that had slid down her waist, almost to her hips.
Then she looked up at the horse not knowing what to do.

“Having trouble are you, my lady?” Malcus sneered.

Neeria glowered at him but did not reply. Instead, she looked
at the stable boy.

“Will you move it closer to the wall there?”

The stable boy shot a nervous glance at Malcus who nodded his
approval. The boy grabbed Sitra’s reigns and walked her to the
wall. Neeria bent over and pulled the legs of the trousers up
over her ankles and slid her foot through the slats of the
stall wall, climbing up until she was high enough to get her
foot into the stirrup. Pleased with herself, she grabbed the
saddle with both hands to pull herself over. Now she had one
foot in the stirrup and one still between the slats of the
wall. Neeria pushed fom the stall wall, while pulling up on
the saddle and with all of her might, flung her body over the
horse. Now she was lying across the horse’s girth on her
stomach.

Neeria heard snickering behind her.

The small woman flailed her legs, trying to turn herself
around so that she was facing the right direction. Sitra
stamped her rear legs and reared her head in disapproval of
the struggling novice on her back. Finally facing the right
direction, Neeria spread her legs and pushed herself up with
her hands flat in the saddle, bringing her legs around the
horse’s rear and up to her sides. The horse was so wide and
Neeria’s legs so short, the woman was sitting in a
precariously awkward position, spread-eagle to the world. She
supposed she would get used to it. Sliding her butt forward in
the saddle, Neeria looked at both men with a feeling of
triumph.

“I am ready,” she said defiantly.
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