| Welcome to Na The Past. We hope you enjoy your visit. You're currently viewing our forum as a guest. This means you are limited to certain areas of the board and there are some features you can't use. If you join our community, you'll be able to access member-only sections, and use many member-only features such as customizing your profile, sending personal messages, and voting in polls. Registration is simple, fast, and completely free. Join our community! If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
| June 2008 | |
|---|---|
| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 23 2010, 07:18 PM (3,691 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | Apr 2 2010, 03:37 PM Post #286 |
![]()
|
Author: lady ione Date: Fri Jun 27, 2008 6:30 pm Brendyn Keeping a cautious eye out for the young woad and whoever else was with her, the young soldier continued to quietly walk down the aisles of the smelly place. Wretched souls tried to reach out and grab at him, cried out to him, but he ignored them. How they got here was of their own doing and deserved no compassion. Brendyn pressed against a wall when he thought he heard something up ahead and had not wanted to be seen. He almost laughed at himself when he saw a rat cross the path ahead of him.... A prisoner screamed. He continued to move silently, still keeping his ears open and his eyes alert. The young soldier's stomach grumbled in protest as he yawned. So far it had been a very interesting day....and it promised to get better. Maybe. Up ahead, Brendyn saw another set of stairs with light coming from the top. Not wanting to rush the search but give a thorough look over, Bren moved slowly and stealthily. As he searched, he hoped that before the day ended that he'd do something notable of a bit of praise, or camaroderie. He smelled, he was cold and hungry, and he wanted to sleep. Leaning up against the stone wall, he winced. His arm that Evana had worked on was feeling better yet still a bit tender....nothing to cry over. |
![]() |
|
| golden_trillium | Apr 2 2010, 03:38 PM Post #287 |
![]()
|
Author: sabor ice Date: Sat Jun 28, 2008 1:17 am Milan
Mari joined in humming a wordless chorus, causing Milan's smile to broaden at her attempt to humor him. He continued his toneless garble, unable to suppress a laugh as he listened to the awful mess it made of her sweet sound. Even his laugh was awkward, higher, lighter than one might expect considering his monotone was incredibly husky whenever he attempted to speak. It was laughter that touched his eyes, causing the irises to take on a deeper blue hue, almost a beautiful, entrancing violet. If Milan had been braver, he might've suggested a different word to describe Kolya by. The word "fool" was not even in the young man's vocabulary when he thought of Mari's father, although preferably, Milan would've rather not thought of the man at all. Their dancing slowed until they were doing nothing more than subtly swaying side to side, just holding each other really. Mari lay her head against him. It felt so natural that Milan didn't even pay attention to how securely his arms had wound about her in reaction to their closeness. He lowered his lips to rest lightly against her shoulder, closing his eyes and sighing out a content breath through his nostrils. He tried not to think about the future. In fact, he rarely did unless Mari brought something up. The future was shrouded in darkness, filled with uncertainties. It frightened him to think about it, knowing nothing was sacred and that he'd have to face it sooner or later. His hold on her tightened. "Thhhink...bout...now..." Milan told her quietly against her ear, eyes still closed. "Yyyou...with...mme..." |
![]() |
|
| golden_trillium | Apr 2 2010, 03:46 PM Post #288 |
![]()
|
Author: Pinkie Date: Sat Jun 28, 2008 6:02 am Amadeus
Amadeus was not moving forward until a deal had been brokered. He could see through a gap in the huts walls a little of what was happening outside. He narrowed his grey eyes to the man that was talking, giving a raised eyebrow to the feral woman's violent declaration. The Optio gave an uncomfortable snarl at her trying to turn Tristan against him and case a cautionary glance at the Scout. It was a begrudging thing but Amadeus would have to make known to Arthur that he was quite impressed with this particular Sarmatians services. He lacked the proper respects of course, and looked like a total barbarian, but he took orders well. And he also knew which side he was on despite the woad whore thinking to the contrary with her brave, idiotic attempt to save the life of a man that would slit her throat as quickly as he had done the woad in the hut. If ordered by Amadeus Scipio too.. Lose their weapons!! HA! The Optio's head drew back and he flexed his fingers about the hilt of his sword for comfort and reassurance. There was no way in hell he was going to drop the bloody weapon or insist that Barbattus, Tristan or Mordred do the same either! That was insane. If there was peace then weaponary became ornamental, no?
Now this one, on the other hand, would not be receiving the best of compliments from Amadeus to Arthur! The Optio's grey eyes darted to the Captain and then to Tristan automatically. Listening, the Optio was almost satisfied with what the man had said, until he soundly declared that they were outnumbered and then... then! stepped out of the hut without orders, leaving Amadeus and Tristan alone in the tent with three woads... outnumbered! "Fool!" he hissed at Barbattus' back and did not follow him, gesturing for Tristan to remain where he was too. "Our numbers are made more by those who will follow our tracks should we not return by nightfall." Amadeus lied with ease, skil and plausibility. On reflection he realised that this was a contingency he should have made with Arthur before leaving. But there was no point in letting the woads know that he had not. If there was one thing Amadeus was good at, it was lying. Tensing his sharp jaw, the Optio moved forward, chin lifted but did not step out of the hut, merely stood next to Tristan, grey eyes assessing what he could see beyond Barbattus' form. He met eyes with the leader of the woads - "Now, woad, either take us to Merlin or bring Merlin here so that we might carry out our duty under the name of Arthur Castus." the Optio ordered. Galahad and Kolya People speaking around him were just muffled noises. Though Galahad did recognise the disapproving, warning tones of Lancelot. Somewhere in the back of his bruised and addled brain he knew that he was hitting Lancelot and not Kolya, but if even half the punches were landing on the older Sarmatian then Galahad was happy. This piece of shit thought to take Alina from him, he had sneaked in when her real lover had been away, fighting for his life and he had taken her from him. Galahad knew things could never be the same with Alina now, he knew that he would always wonder if she compared him to Kolya, he would always wonder if she regret picking him. And it was then that Galahad paused... breathless, staring at Kolya eye to blue eye for a moment of stillness... and he wondered if Alina would pick him over Kolya at all... And then Kolya lurched forward. Galahad felt something painful strike his jaw and his head snapped to one side, one eye becoming bloodshot.
Kolya snarled at Lancelot and lashed out, punching the dark knight in the jaw but fell forward, sprawled on top of Galahad who was wriggling madly. Someone was standing on his shin, his leg mashed down into the slick muck beneath. His blue eyes lifted and he saw Kolya above him, gave a shout of frustrated anger and did the only thing he could... bite. Sticking his elbows out left, right and centre, somehow, Galahad threw all his weight forward, tumbling Kolya onto his back and bit, hard, onto the old man. He managed to get his jaw around Kolya's wrist and heard a satisfying cry of pain before being pulled back by someone and held away. The young Sarmatian was half-dead with tiredness now but he wasn't finished, not by a long shot. He wriggled in the hands of whoever was holding him back, legs flailing everywhere, his bloodshot eyes intense on Kolya who was getting to his feet in a fury, holding his bloody wrist to his chest but staying back. The old Sarmatian had had enough of this. He was dirty, bloody and ridiculed by men younger than him. With his lip pulled back he looked towards Galahad and spat at the man's feet. "She deserves better than either of us." he said hoarsely. At which point Galahad let out an uncontrolled shriek, one hand broke free, slapped backwards blindly against the face of whoever was holding him and made one final dash forward... Eala The cold did not affect this child of nature. The chill wind battered against her slight body beneath the off-white tunic she had been given and her bare hands and feet were left exposed, the skin hardened from over-use, abuse and neglect througout her meagre years in the forests. She had been a little child once, a proper child who would have taken the doll given to her by Titrus and perhaps figured out what it was for instead of using it to conceal a weapon. That was half her lifetime ago though. Back when her parents had been alive. Back before the Romans had taken away all that she had except Donnchadh. And even then they would not leave her be - even then they insisted on taking that last bit of hope from her life. The only family she had left had been wrenched from her life and Eala would not rest until she was sure that the people who were intent on making her life so hard, so quiet and unintellgible were gone. The Romans. Her and Ash sped down a laneway though she was reluctant as it was takingher away from where she wanted to go. She whined - oh she whined! A sad, sorrowful keen that was not even close to how she really felt inside. But he stopped, understanding her intense misery and he hunkered down. Eala felt her wrist released and she took a step backwards, pouting, tears drying on her pale cheeks. Ash held her head in his hands and she would not look at him, she kept her black eyes averted childishly but she could not do that and understand what he was telling her. So the ten-year old reluctantly looked to his eyes, her head bowed, bottom lip hanging out sadly.
His attempt at making himself understood was appreciated. Eala gave a whine when he said that they would go now and she had been in the motions of pulling her head from his hands but he moved his lips again, telling her they would return. She couldn't understand it all, of course, but the general idea was solid in her mind. They would go now but they would come back. He would come back with her. That is how she understood it. The little blonde placed her tiny hand on Ash's wrist and turned her head to look over her shoulder, assessing this promise. She wanted to get revenge now but knew it was a bad idea, it was dangerous now. But Donnchadh... Looking back at Ash Eala could see the strain of pain in his face, his dark eyes pinched. She could smell the metallic tang of blood from him too where some wound may have reopened or perhaps a new wound? Her own body felt wilted of power and her mind dreaded the thoughts of those dungeons again, the darkness where she could not hear and could not see... "Nnph.." she sighed, nodding her head and throwing her arms around Ash's neck in a possessive hug. Her eyes were shut tight, her nose scrunched up and she bowed her head to his shoulder, snuffling against the now familiar feel of his tunic. A choked sob caught in her throat and she squeeked, pulling back and nodding her head. It was obvious in the deep recesses of her eyes that this was hurting her, to, in her mind, turn her back on Donnchadh and leave Badon now without revenge for him. |
![]() |
|
| golden_trillium | Apr 2 2010, 03:49 PM Post #289 |
![]()
|
Author: golden_trillium Date: Sat Jun 28, 2008 8:15 am Linnesse
Alina stood up in anger and indignation, knocking over the stool she had been sitting on, and stalked out of the tavern by the back entrance. Linnesse's eyes widened and she looked up at Neeve in surprise and consternation, much as she had not ten minutes ago when Linnette had done almost exactly the same thing. Was it something in the air? Why did she seem unable to help anyone, with anything, today, when normally helping was part and parcel of her life, her whole purpose, in fact? But right now, she seemed to be in multiple situations where caring was of no avail- leaving her helpless. However, one of Neeve's suggestions had been something that just might work. "The water...that sounds like as good an idea as any." Linnesse dropped her eyes from Neeve and scanned the tavern, looking for a bucket or other largish container. Surely there were some in the kitchen- but over there, in the corner, there was indeed an abandoned bucket of water closer. It looked like one of the girls had been intending to start mopping the floor, and left it for more interesting things when the fight had started. As long as it wasn't too hot, it would do...Linnesse took a reflexive step towards it, but then thought better of it mid-stride. "I...I don't think I can manage a full bucket on my own," she admitted sheepishly, turning back to Neeve with a contrite expression on her face. |
![]() |
|
| golden_trillium | Apr 2 2010, 03:50 PM Post #290 |
![]()
|
Author: Darya Date: Sat Jun 28, 2008 8:44 am Neeve
When Alina suddenly stood and snapped at her, Neeve arched an eyebrow at the smaller woman and parted her lips to say something…but before she had the chance, Alina was already stalking away. Well, apparently things between her and Galahad were really bad. The other woman was far too tensed for her own sake. Neeve shook her head and looked at Linnesse, shrugging her shoulders slightly as she did so. “Just announcing free ale would have probably been enough already…”, the raven-haired stated dryly before shooting another glance at the brawl outside…
Linnesse’s reply managed to return Neeve’s attention to their problem at hand…and she let her blue gaze follow the other woman’s…just to spot a large bucket in a near corner. The healer smirked slightly. “Let’s get that thing together…”, she then said and walked over to the bucket. And it indeed was a really large bucket…filled with wonderfully cool water. “Come on…”, the raven-haired added and motioned for Linnesse to help her… |
![]() |
|
| golden_trillium | Apr 2 2010, 03:51 PM Post #291 |
![]()
|
Author: Lancelot Date: Sat Jun 28, 2008 8:44 am Lancelot Lancelot's head snapped backward as Kolya let out his apparent frustration - his fist connected meatily with the first knight's jaw. Lancelot screamed out a curse in his native tongue, but holding onto Galahad was a full time job, and he did not have the time to retaliate. Not at this second. He met the older Sarmatian's eyes, and his own dark gaze promised retribution. Galahad was still flailing and managed to get out of Lancelot's grasp; the dark knight struggled to rise, tangled as he was with Gawain and now coated in wet earth. Fucking British rain! Fucking stupid Galahad! Fucking women and their trouble - and gods damn it, but didn't Galahad have more sense than the gods gave a goose??? Lancelot was beyond furious - his eyes glittered dangerously and he snarled a wordless sound as he watched Galahad try and bite Kolya. He finally managed to get to his feet, and shoving Gawain away from him, he snagged the pup about the waist again and dragged him off of the older man.
And then Kolya spit at the ground in front of them, and before Lancelot could stop him, Galahad's fingers and hands smacked hard enough at Lancelot's face so the first knight's only reaction was to drop his burden - and Galahad barreled forward again. Lancelot, sweat dripping from his exhausted body and new injuries beginning to show - his wounded arm was throbbing anew and his eye was pretty much swollen shut from where Galahad had elbowed him - threw up his hands and just stepped back. "You want to die for no reason?? Fine - I give my most humble permission!" Lancelot shouted the words after Galahad, and added a nonsensical yell when he was finished. Every bit of his flesh ached and he was beginning to tremble - the lack of food and the rush of adrenaline being the major culprits. He spat on the ground, and waited to see who'd die first. Arthur would be ashamed of you, Lancelot. Letting one of our men do something so idiotic - Arthur is abed and fuck him. I am the first knight - I will let Galahad die if that is what he chooses. He dug his own damn grave. Let him accept the consequences. Rage swirled in his mind, and Lancelot could barely see for the clouding. He screamed again suddenly, his frustration and exhaustion getting the better of him, and he turned to the nearest post and slammed his fist into it. Now, bloody knuckles, a sore body, a swollen black eye, an arrow punctured arm, and a punched jaw made for a fantastic picture. His eyes followed the scene in front of him, and not being able to help it - he laughed. |
![]() |
|
| golden_trillium | Apr 2 2010, 03:57 PM Post #292 |
![]()
|
Author: golden_trillium Date: Sat Jun 28, 2008 9:20 am Tristan
Oh, for fuck's sake. What was her inexplicable...attatchment to him?? Tristan had no idea how he had, in the course of the past couple of days, become some sort of benevolent figure to her. He hadn't done anything- he had treated her harshly, as would be expected! And now...well, Tristan could not be comfortable with her once again drawing attention to his role in this situation. He was supposed to be near invisible, let Amadeus do the talking. Inwardly he squirmed, but outwardly he merely continued to hold the knife on the Woad in front of him. His cheeks might have pinked just a touch- but the hut was dimly lit and everyone thinking of other things, and no one would notice. It was then that Barbattus, suddenly taking the lead (in a move that was certain to irritate Scipio, Tristan knew without even looking at the man), set down his sword inside the hut and stepped boldy out, speaking to the leader of the Woads.
Tristan let the knife he held at the Woad's throat fall just a little bit, but noticeably- a small gesture of good faith, perhaps. In reality, he wasn't worried that the man would really overpower him- he had him at his mercy, no matter where exactly the knife was. But lowering it looked more like they were negotiating. He cast a quick, assessing glance back at the other two living Woads in the hut, just making sure they were where he had left them, then turned back to the leader of the blue devils, waiting like everyone else to see what answer he would give. Would he agree to bring them to Merlin? Or would they have to fight their way out of this after all, and come back to Badon with nothing to show for it but wounds? Linnette Drake was silent for a long moment after she asked the question, and Linnette began to suspect it had not been the right thing to say. Perhaps it was too painful to speak about- too personal- or perhaps his situation hadn't been like hers at all. Not every couple was as fond of each other as she and Gedeon had been. Not everyone married for love or even respect. It could have been that the passing of Drake's wife had affected him little. But somehow she didn't think so- and as the silence deepened, and his hand slid comfortingly down her arm and back up to her shoulder again, she doubted it increasingly. He must have loved his wife. And his words, when they came, confirmed it.
"I know." Without her thinking about it, one of Linnette's hands- the right, the better one- slid backwards from where it had been tucked at her side to cover her stomach, wherein lay the evidence that she was certainly not alone- she had a responsibility, a great one, to see this one little remaining scrap of Gedeon through. What would he look like? Or she? Would she be able to see the face of her dead husband in her child? Or would she look at the child and see only herself- or something else entirely? Her eyes drifted closed as she imagined it, enumerated the possibilities in her mind, her head resting all the while on Drake's shoulder. A tender picture indeed. It was Linnette that broke the embrace, though. After a long moment, she opened her eyes, stepped away and turned around to face him, giving him another small, sad smile. "I'm sorry about your family." Mentally, she was adding the souls of Drake's unknown wife and sons to her mental checklist of things to pray for or about when she was next in the chapel, which ought to be later today. Drake himself was on the list, too, though she did not tell him that, not wishing to embarrass him or anything like that. Would he be embarrassed to know that she planned to thank God with all her heart for his presence and all he had done for her? Probably. But there seemed so little else she could do for him- and he clearly deserved something. "You didn't deserve that, either," she murmurred, feeling tears and a tight throat threatening again. Crying, crying, always crying. Her eyes were never dry for long- and it didn't feel like they ever would be. She sniffed, then looked up into Drake's eyes despairingly- then something seemed to break inside her, and she stepped forward and put her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly with her cheek resting against his chest and tears dampening the dark blue tunic. |
![]() |
|
| golden_trillium | Apr 2 2010, 03:59 PM Post #293 |
![]()
|
Author: Eledhwen Date: Sat Jun 28, 2008 10:47 am Bors
Bors grumbled under his breath, trying to struggle up the bed to sit up. He hated the infirmary, the smell of blood, the sounds of pain, and he hated that he couldn't say the same thing to Dag - get out of here, go and rest properly in your own room, not in this place that smelled of death. "Yeah, yeah I fink I will," he grunted, slowly lowering his injured leg over the side of the bed. Wincing, he put his weight on it, and found he could stand, maybe even better than he had been able to before. Not bad, that healer then... "Dag..." he began, hobbling to his friend's side, but all he encountered was the flaming red of Saoirse's hair as she lay with her head on Dagonet's shoulder. Bors grimaced and sniffed loudly, frowning before looking away from her and up into the sad, deeply anguished eyes of his best friend and comrade. There was so much Bors wanted to say, but so much that he couldn't say, and so he just shrugged. "Take care of yerself ay?" he said roughly, laying a hand for a minute on Dagonet's arm. "Don't... don't take on too much..." There was more, more than that, and far better ways of putting it, but Bors wasn't the type to speak too much and too deeply. He knew what the tall knight was like though - Dagonet would take on everybody else's worries as well as his own, and it would drag him even further into the despair he now faced. He had always been the same, trying to take care of all the smaller, weaker boys, and time had not changed him. Now he tried to defend anyone weaker than he, and that was, well, generally everyone. |
![]() |
|
| golden_trillium | Apr 2 2010, 04:01 PM Post #294 |
![]()
|
Author: linnet Date: Sat Jun 28, 2008 3:31 pm Gawain Gawain tried futilely to untangle himself from the hog-pile in the mud, which now included Kolya. The older man punched furiously, connecting with Gawain’s ear and shoulder before the blonde knight was able to sit up and shove Kolya out of his way. That worked fine for Kolya as it put him in better range to connect with Galahad, and with the struggling Lancelot as well. It took Gawain two attempts to stand. The knee he’s twisted when Kolya knocked them down buckled under him the first try. He repositioned it and was able to finally get to his feet. By that time Galahad had freed himself and was back at Kolya, actually biting the other man. Lancelot made another self-sacrificing lunge to grab Galahad and pull him away. Gawain reached in to do what he could to help restrain the enraged youngster. But when Lancelot pushed him away, Gawain hollered, “Fuck you!” and had to hold back the urge to add his own knuckle marks to the Dark Knight’s battered face. Instead he took a couple steps toward Kolya, while Lancelot held Galahad in momentary check. If Gawain could just get between the two rivals, and then gradually back the older man away while Lancelot held fast until the steam went out of Galahad…..He moved in front of Kolya, but the veteran knight wasn’t quite ready to back away. He sidestepped Gawain and spat scornfully on the ground in Galahad’s direction.
Gawain whirled and had only seconds to react. He managed to step directly in front of Galahad, who was charging again, wild with rage. Gawain planted himself and raised his left arm in front of him, across his chest. Galahad’s momentum ran him full force into the arm. It hit where Gawain had hoped it would, right at his best friend’s windpipe. The collision sent the blonde knight staggering backwards, but the damage had been done. Galahad was on his back gasping for air, holding his throat. Gawain walked the few steps needed to stand over Galahad. He shook his mud covered head sadly. He knelt down, with one knee on Galahad’s chest. He looked into the bulging eyes of his friend who was still trying to breathe normally. “I told you to stop, damn it,” Gawain said in a low voice. Then he cocked back his good arm, and let his fist connect squarely with Galahad’s jaw. It was a hard shot. Hard enough to knock a man out. But he did take a little off the blow to keep from breaking anything – he hoped. He stood up and looked around for someone to come and tend to Galahad, but he didn’t see any sign of Alina, or Neeve for that matter. He did see Lancelot, and watched his agitated superior take his anger out on a post. The dark-haired knight was a mess of cuts and bruises. Gawain wasn’t so pretty himself. Blood was running down his cheek from a nasty gash, his ear was swelling up, and he limped when he tried to take a few steps toward the tavern to look for help for Galahad. “What the hell’s so funny?” he called back to Lancelot who's laughter meant he'd either had gone spare, or found the whole fucking mess amusing. |
![]() |
|
| golden_trillium | Apr 2 2010, 04:02 PM Post #295 |
![]()
|
Author: golden_trillium Date: Sat Jun 28, 2008 9:08 pm Linnesse
The bucket was heavy, and Linnesse struggled to hold up her half of it- well, in truth Neeve was probably taking more than half the weight, but even so, it was almost more than Linnesse could manage. She pressed gamely on, from the corner where the bucket had been left towards the fighting men at the tavern doorway, the bucket banging into her lower legs and her breath coming almost in gasps. Some of the onlookers that they passed seemed to realize what they were about, and either laughed or made remarks that the cooling draught might be welcome for the brawlers, but Linnesse had no energy to spare to even look at them. All her focus was on helping Neeve carry the bucket, and hoping that somehow this would make some kind of dent in the struggle going on at the door. The chaos was still in full force when they arrived in range. Galahad lay motionless on the ground- Linnesse couldn't see what had felled him, but she thought it must be recent, as he had been going strong when she and Neeve had gone for the bucket. She saw Gawain, blood running down his face- Lancelot, his head back and his mouth open in a maniacal laugh- and then Neeve was lifting the bucket, and she was doing her best to hold up her end, and they swung it forward...and grayish, cooled mop water splashed all over the very center of the brawl, over the knot of injured and fallen men. Linnesse heaved in a desperate breath, trying to get enough air to her suddenly exhausted body- and staggered a step back and fell panting onto a bench, her eyes on the results of her and Neeve's work. |
![]() |
|
| golden_trillium | Apr 2 2010, 04:04 PM Post #296 |
![]()
|
Author: lady ione Date: Sat Jun 28, 2008 9:11 pm Adian The feel of her soft skin against his lips made him lick them as if trying to taste her still. His body had ached with longing for her, but Adian had kept himself under check...which was a good thing sometimes. He tied the laces of his loose tunic...
Tatiana's response better than he had hoped for. The way she grinned back at him, and her green eyes meeting his...the way his mind etched a memory of her body while the water shimmered about it. When he was young, he had never liked to be tickled. There were times when his mother would tickle him until it just frustrated him, but when he grew older, he found it was a great way to enter into seduction the fun way. Adian did not know any man who did not think the same way. He liked to chase women, so surprise them....but he rarely tickled them unless by some strange quirk of circumstance, it occasion led to such things. Then all he loved was to hear laughter. But that was it. No doubt Tatiana loved to tickle, and he'd go along with it...though one could never make too much of a good thing. Heather gray eyes watched as she got out of the bath, and he couldn't help but feel like a wolf as his eyes roamed over her delicate figure...what her skin had felt like so close to his. What baths could not do for the imagination... The young man watched her dress as he moved over behind her, reaching out to gather all of the long coppery strands in his hands slowly beginning to run his fingers through the strands to gently detangle them. so that the curles would stay, Adian braided her hair without tying it when finished that way when it dried, the braid would become loose...the way he liked it...
Never eaten by firelight? This woman has been deprived... Adian smiled at her acceptance of the invitation, "Not a problem really. I love company...No need to go to the tavern as I believe that I still have some food carefully stored in my quarters..." In his heart, he felt like he was moving too fast, but now that Thorn was dead, he wanted to...needed to have someone in his life. Tatiana seemed too innocent right now, but she had some qualities that he liked. Maybe, with this one, starting out as friends would be a plan... "Come, let's go and eat," Adian led her out of the baths, and they walked and talked until they arrived at his quarters...the some one he had shared with Thorn. Unlocking the door, Adian opened it and stepped aside to let Tatiana enter first... |
![]() |
|
| golden_trillium | Apr 2 2010, 04:06 PM Post #297 |
![]()
|
Author: sabor ice Date: Sun Jun 29, 2008 1:10 am Alina Alina's worn shoes were soaked and her feet chilled, and yet she remained careless with each stride. She mindlessly sloshed through puddles, muck saturating a good portion of the front of her dress, every inch of her sopping wet. Lackadaisicalness made her uncharacteristically clumsy, causing her to trip once or twice, but she righted herself thoughtlessly and continued onward. She hadn't in mind where she was going and therefore found herself cradled against a building a few moments, ironically not far from the tavern. She leaned against its hard foundation and indifferently peered around the corner, dark eyes trying to make out the shapes of men in the distance. The fighting seemed to have mostly subsided. Kolya stood aside the mess, but Alina could not read his expression from where she was. Gawain loomed over someone a moment and then retreated to where another man was - she guessed Lancelot, but couldn't be sure. Galahad lay relatively motionless on the ground, his condition uncertain. A dry sob hitched up into Alina's throat. She took a step in the young knight's direction, but inexplicably faltered, shrinking back into the shadows of the building. She clutched a hand to her chest, fingers knotting about the fabric of her cloak. Her head tipped back against the wall, hazy dark eyes peering up at the unfavorable sky. For her to go to Galahad now seemed somehow inappropriate. She was the cause of his pain, so what right did she have thinking she could fix him? Neeve was there, as was Linnesse, and both were far more experienced healers than she. They had right to be there now and she did not. Someone else would see to the wounded. Someone would take care of Galahad far better than she ever had. Alina drew up her hood and pushed herself away from the building, miserable as she trudged further away from the scene. She walked for awhile, oblivious to her surroundings, some time later finding herself up on the wall, but not remembering even climbing the stairs to get there. Unseeing brown eyes stared out at the frozen tundra that was Britain, searching, searching... Ash There were two sides to Ash - the most prominent a seasoned warrior, cold and calculated, ruthless and thirsty for Roman blood. The second was a man of compassion, understanding, a rare side of him often hidden from the world. For someone who had been born and bred to fight, to defend, such a softness was an unbecoming second nature for him. He had conditioned himself to be distant, for the sake of not forming attachments to any one person. It had nothing to do with personal preference, but rather rationality. Attachments made it difficult to let go, to move on in life after the death of a loved one. It made a person lose focus. Ash had never wanted loss to hinder his performance or to cloud his judgment. Of course the Woad had never accounted for the consequences of such solitude. Being ignorantly disconnected from the world around him had left him bitter and very lonely in the end. Eala had made it possible for him to feel something again. Somehow through everything, she had managed to worm her way into his heart, helping to fill in some of the emptiness - not that he'd ever purposely admit to her how much he had come to care. Ash wasn't one for pretty words. The girl's sorrow was her own. Ash did not attempt to placate her. Meddling with such torrential emotions was not his way. He knew nothing of properly consoling another human being, least of all a child whom had just lost the last of her blood kin. He allowed her a moment or two as she fervently embraced him, burying her tear-stricken face against his tunic. He raised a hand that gently ruffled the blonde locks at the back of her head, before resting it on her shoulder as she pulled away, nodding. The despairing look in her eyes was indescribably daunting. There was a rowdy commotion still sounding in the distance, and Ash hoped its distraction would hold out long enough to cover their escape. He kept a desperate hold on Eala's hand as he stealthily led her alongside the wall and behind the stables. The side gate was a sprint away, and luckily for them, still ajar a sliver from when he had let Guinevere's party inside. The guards usually above it were nowhere to be seen, and he took the momentary opportunity to hastily reach the gate. He more-or-less shoved Eala's small form through the opening, casting one last wary glance behind him, before promptly following. The two disappeared into the frozen thicket of the forest. |
![]() |
|
| golden_trillium | Apr 2 2010, 04:08 PM Post #298 |
![]()
|
Author: TwistOfShadows Date: Sun Jun 29, 2008 8:00 am Eyla Eyla did not appreciate the interruption. The harlot believed she was achieving something, but the Roman was clearly a busy man. Did people constantly pester him so rudely? Did he ever get a moment’s peace? Oh, but Eyla felt sorry for him. For a brief moment. Artorius was the Commander of Badon Hill, and surely such wealth had to be justified somehow. The Roman had gained titles through birth…but Eyla had earnt her own. She was a prostitute, a harlot, a whore…and she loved such delectable terminology. It amused her. She was a beautiful woman, and would use it to her own ends. People were merely jealous, and bitter, and unsatisfied. Artorius’ attempts at rejecting her were obsolete, because Eyla had already experienced his want. She had lain naked with him on a stormy night, and watched the shadows dance across their handsome bodies. She had tasted him, felt him…but not fully experienced him. But it was enough…for now. Eyla knew he could not resist her forever…but it was a pleasant charade… Eyla pressed one slender finger to the Roman’s lips, and smiled playfully at him. Her words had been too flippant, and she had allowed her guard down. Alas, she would not do it again. Familiarity with patrons was dangerous, and Eyla never sought such commitments. Her dark eyes blinked lazily, dreamily at him. She did not want to continue this conversation about her parents. There was no point to it, and it was terribly boring. Let them discuss something else! Pleasure perhaps? The woman knew plenty about that…
Artorius brushed her fingers away gently, and Eyla pouted petulantly. She did not care for their interruption, and whoever it was…would probably be boring too. Why did the Roman suffer such company? When he could pay Eyla a golden coin, and keep her here for longer? Eyla rolled her eyes slightly. Yes, she had peaked his interest, but the conversation was over. The harlot did not dwell upon her past because it rendered her…vulnerable, and that would never do. Reaching her delicate fingers into her hair, she messed the curls slightly. The dark hair curled thickly around her golden shoulders, and her eyes sparkled with amusement. They would share more conversations…but not concerning her mother and father.
Eyla arched an eyebrow sharply, and laughed in feminine amusement. That was a biting comment, but she quite liked it. The way his tongue cut her so brutally, rejected her. Eyla did not move from his side, but rather turned in her seat. She looked to the door, and did not bother to conceal her mischievous intent. Her smile was feline, tempting and naughty, and her eyes glittered. What did they look like? The resting Roman Commander, and the best-known harlot in the fortress. Eyla arched her back on purpose, pushing out her generous bosom…and making the situation seem as awkward and interesting as possible. She half wanted their visitor to suspect something immoral, and completely un-christian… The door creaked open slowly, and a woman entered. Darya. Eyla’s smile grew more amused, more flirtatious. The Sarmatian woman wore a modest cloak, and she looked very pretty today, dark and broody. Just like everyone else in this damned fortress. Eyla tilted her head at the woman, and her mind jumped sharply to conclusions. Oh, so was this Eyla’s competition? A Sarmatian lady? Eyla quirked an eyebrow at Arthur, almost rebuking him for keeping her secret. Oh, Eyla loved competition….especially when that competition was a past patron. The harlot had tasted Darya too, had felt the silken want of Sarmatia. Indeed, they had been interrupted before things got too interesting, but Eyla knew Darya’s weakness for intrigue. And Arthur…apparently…
Eyla laughed. She did not mock, but was rather amused by the awkwardness that swamped the room. The harlot did not move from Arthur’s side…and Darya appeared taken aback. Ah well, it was to be expected no? Eyla was more beautiful than any other woman in the fortress, and was worthy competition for the Roman’s…lusts. Eyla curled a dark tendril around her finger and patted the bed next to her, gesturing for Darya to join them… “Do not be silly, beauty. Come and sit with us…” Eyla smiled at the Sarmatian. It was not a challenge at all. “Artorius and I were just getting to know each other better. It seems he was quite alone here…and then his prayers were answered. I arrived.” Eyla winked one eye playfully, and her words were thick with intent and honey. Eyla did not suffer from jealousy, but she did like to make her presence known…and anyway, she would have them both eventually. Looking rather pleased with herself, she spoke again. “What can we do for you Darya?” Eyla did not mock, but she did manipulate appearances into something…suspicious… |
![]() |
|
| golden_trillium | Apr 2 2010, 04:11 PM Post #299 |
![]()
|
Author: lady ione Date: Sun Jun 29, 2008 8:25 am Vanora Vanora met the eyes of the nuns and the healers as she moved about. Vanora knew it'd not be hard to find a man like Bors and with his voice, it'd be even easier....unless he was asleep. Sometimes Bors, she felt, didn't get a whole lot of sleep, and she hoped that was what he got while he was here. It did not take her long to see Bors trying to sit up. Vanora slowly approached him, and it was then that she saw Dagonet and Saorise. Vanora had not yet fully reached where her lover was, but she did see him approach Dag's bed. Well, at least he could walk a bit better... ....Arriving finally at Dagonet's bedside, Vanora came and stood next to Bors, placing a firm but gentle hand on his shoulder while her brown eyes looked at Dag. Something happened inside Bors though because he had turned from Dag with a frown. There was still that anguished look in the tall, quiet knight's eyes, and figured that that was what made Bors gimmace. This day had not been one to recall because of all of the sadness that had spread: One was when she related to Adian how Thorn had died, and the other was the death of Gedeon. Two diffrent tragedies, but they both affected her greatly. She wanted to attempt to brighten the situation, though there was really no cure for sorrow...
The way the big, calloused hand that was made to handle weapons, now rested on his best friend's arm...well Vanora could feel the tears coming, but they rested on the brim of her eyes refusing to fall. With a small smile, Vanora attempted to smile, "Dag, has he been depriving you of sleep again, you poor man." She gave them both a teasing smile and nudged Bors a bit playfully, as she continued, "Come to take him home. Haven't seen him much what with the mission and such...it'd be nice to spoil him just a wee bit." Leaning over, she gave Bors a kiss on the cheek. She guessed that Saorise and Dag wanted to spend some time together as well, and having Bors near did not make it easy.... Everytime Bors came home, she thanked the gods. She did not know where she would ever be without him... |
![]() |
|
| golden_trillium | Apr 2 2010, 04:14 PM Post #300 |
![]()
|
Author: TwistOfShadows Date: Sun Jun 29, 2008 8:54 am Nolan and Ceinwyn Oh, but the situation was not losing control. Nolan had the Romans exactly where he wanted, and it had been easier than he suspected. He had thought to find them deep in the woodland, not trapped within a small hut. It was unfortunate for them. The hostages were a necessary complication, but negotiations would be made. Merlin had ordered it. The Woad warrior stood firm and strong, and his eyes burnt with hostility. Ceinwyn stood readily at his side, and she…was useful. She aided in their façade of strength and lack of mercy. If the Romans would fight…then they would die. Nolan was prepared for that. And the Sarmatian? It was not his war, and yet he fought on the side of his own enemy. He was a slave, and therefore a loss if they decided to fight. But he had been the first to leave the hut, and therefore the bravest. He would be worth keeping a close eye upon…Nolan’s blue fingers gripped his daggers, and his dusty and painted cheeks cracked as he grunted in distaste. He did not favour this exchange of tense words, he was born to fight and defend his people. And he was quickly growing impatient.
Nolan turned at the voice, and his jaw tensed visibly. Neeria the traitor sought to give demands? Truly? Was she jesting? The Woad warrior sneered at her, and his top lip curled back in disgust. Nolan did not care for her feelings, nor her attempts at negotiation…because she was a filthy traitor and would be treated thus. The Woad woman had led them directly to her people, and she dared give orders? Nolan’s green eyes burnt hard, and he glared at Neeria. She would shut up…or die. He would not hesitate in proclaiming her a ‘necessary loss’ to Merlin…because people died in skirmishes. Especially treacherous bitches… Ceinwyn looked over to the woman, and gritted her teeth. There was something in the Woad’s eyes that Ceinwyn did not trust, did not favour. Ceinwyn winced when Neeria attempted to defend the Sarmatian. She was acting foolishly and without care for the repercussions. Neeria would be killed if she continued! But Ceinwyn was also intrigued. Indeed, her lack of sanity and rational thought caused her to look at Tristan. Her green eyes took him in, but it was not admiration nor interest. It was hatred. Hatred for slaves… She bared her teeth at him. Another man emerged from the hut. A Roman, and Nolan looked at him, almost bored. He was an older Roman, perhaps matured in experience…but Nolan was not intimidated. It would take more than status and wealth to push him into fear.
Ah, Nolan recognized the last voice. It was more noble than the first. Nolan saw movement in the hut, but the speaker did not emerge. Was he frightened? Was he hiding behind his servants? Nolan almost smiled, but he did not. He listened with an impatient ear to both men’s declarations, and did not answer immediately. Nolan looked instead to the Sarmatian, and he watched as the knife blade was lowered from the hostage’s throat. The Woad nodded in approval. Good faith? Perhaps. Nolan was less interested in the Sarmatian, than the Roman cowards that spoke confidently but without substance for assurance. “We will take the trail North. Merlin has granted you an easy passage, you should be grateful for it.” Nolan’s words were thick with grittiness. He did not want to lead them anywhere. Death was more suited to the enemy. The Woad turned to Ceinwyn, and they exchanged a hard look. It was deliberately dismissive of Neeria’s previous status among the clan. She was useless to them, unworthy and treacherous. Indeed, Nolan harbored distrust for Ceinwyn too…but she had shown loyalty when snapping the First Knight’s fingers…one at a time. It was a worthy reassurance, for now. The woman’s eyes were still fiery, maddened, and Nolan noticed her fingers twitching at her sides. Ceinwyn was not well, but her physical state was stronger than most of the injured army. She was an asset at present. Turning back to the Romans, Nolan ignored Barbattus. The name of Arthur Castus was good leverage, but who spoke it? Nolan could not fully see the coward. He spoke again. “You will follow us North. And if Merlin still wants you alive? Then you shall live, and he will meet us when he chooses...” Turning on his heel, Nolan paced towards Neeria. He placed a heavy hand on her shoulder, pushing aggressively into the joint to get her attention. His thumb twisted against her skin, and he pulled her close, speaking in her ear. His voice was low, heavy with masculine timbre. “If you ever seek to argue with me again…or voice opinions that are worth less than Roman blood? I will make you suffer for it. We’ve suffered many losses, more than you could imagine…so do not try my patience. It is not wise.” Nolan glared down at her…and Ceinwyn? She glared hard at Tristan. The Woads began to inch back into the woodland, but slow enough for the enemy to follow. |
![]() |
|
| Go to Next Page | |
| « Previous Topic · Vincit Omnia Veritas · Next Topic » |
| Theme: Zeta Original | Track Topic · E-mail Topic | 2:26 PM Jul 11 |







