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| June 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 23 2010, 07:18 PM (3,707 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | Mar 25 2010, 11:02 PM Post #46 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Thu Jun 05, 2008 9:22 am Linnette
"One condition." He was about to walk by behind her, but just as he was nearly past, Linnette placed a restraining hand briefly over his hand, twisting to look at him, then raising one finger admonishingly. It seemed he insisted on continuing to help her- and she didn't believe for a minute that he had nothing else to do, which made her all the more grateful for it- but she wasn't going to let him totally neglect his own needs. "Stop in your room and put your things away first." Her hand dropped to rest on the bar in front of her and she twisted a little further, nodding towards the heavy saddlebags he had been lugging around, now sitting under the table he had been occupying. "Take your time." She gave him a small, hesitant smile, softening the words that might otherwise have come across as an order. At the very least he should be able to take care of that before dashing off on her errands. And in the meantime, she would have some more to eat. Out of the corner of her eye she saw movement from the other side of the bar and turned to see that the bar maid had returned, with her now-refilled bowl of stew. This time, it smelled delicious. "Thanks," she told the woman, extending her smile to include her, too- just a small one, but there. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 25 2010, 11:03 PM Post #47 |
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Author: Darya Date: Thu Jun 05, 2008 9:26 am Darya
The dark Sarmatian tilted her head a little when the stranger she now know to be called Gabriel sat down opposite her. She was honestly glad that the man did not mention the two names she hated the most. Instead, he was giving her some interesting information. So he actually was from Badon? Well, he then apparently had been away quite a while. “Business, hm?”, she mused, “was it successful at least?” Then Darya gave Gabriel a wry smile and successfully resisted the urge to ask what kind of business he was talking about. After sipping yet some more tea, she briefly glanced down at the saddlebags by Gabriel’s side before she allowed her gaze to lock with his. “And I sure hope that your family is well…after all, the last Woad attack is only hours ago…”, the Sarmatian added and watched the pale man closely…waiting how he would react to her words. “It’s interesting that you were actually allowed to enter the Fortress in the first place…after all that has happened here lately…”, the dark-haired added quietly and briefly pursed her lips pensively…before the wry smile was back on her lips.
The small smile widened a little and Darya even breathed a laugh…amused by both, the question itself…and by being addressed in such an intimate way yet again. “Always…”, she replied and saluted Gabriel with the now almost empty mug again, “…especially with that unpleasant weather outside. You should try it…it’s good…” |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 25 2010, 11:03 PM Post #48 |
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Author: Lancelot Date: Thu Jun 05, 2008 9:32 am Lancelot Lancelot knocked again. No answer. He knew for damn sure that Arthur hadn't gone anywhere - he'd have seen him or heard news that the commander was about. However, if Arthur had gotten up and left his quarters, there would be hell to pay for the Roman, in the guise of a slender, dirty, angry, and now sopping wet Sarmatian barbarian. He decided to risk the fact that Amadeus - or Darya - might be inside, and shoved at the door. It opened easily, and Lancelot stuck his wet head inside. No one about. The room was silent, the only noise the crackling of the flames in the brazier. "That fucker," he murmured, and as he stepped inside to reach for his forgotten blades, the annoyance and anger he felt at himself and Arthur still foremost in his mind, he happened to glance at Arthur's bed - and found said commander, who was laying on his back stiffly, his legs stuck out in front of him, his hands resting on his chest. Lancelot slicked his hair back from his face again, unwittingly exposing himself - his mass of unruly curls generally hid his eyes and his thoughts - and ignored the dripping down his already wet collar as he approached where Arthur lay. The other man had his eyes closed, although it was clear he was in pain - to Lancelot, in any regard. The posture was not relaxed, the Roman's face was pinched and white, and Lancelot was surprised to see that Arthur clutched at the cross he wore about his neck. Some of Lancelot's anger fled and he sat himself upon the edge of Arthur's bed, and narrowed his eyes as he looked at the other man. "We survived again, my friend," he sighed. "Through no fault of my own." He twisted his mouth wryly and touched Arthur's arm gently, to see if he could gauge the man's temperature. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 25 2010, 11:04 PM Post #49 |
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Author: Starbelle Date: Thu Jun 05, 2008 12:00 pm Tatiana
"Yes, Adian. I really do want to know you." Tatiana replied shyly as she glanced up at him, her green eyes turning a slight emerald green. "I work down at the stables with the animals and other stable hands. I also do a bit of herbal work, which is now more of a hobby as I learned a few things from my Mother, who's a healer, but I like doing it. My buckskin stallion, Orion, has his own stall inside of the stable." |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 25 2010, 11:05 PM Post #50 |
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Author: Unicorn Date: Thu Jun 05, 2008 12:52 pm Dagonet
Dagonet gave the man a return look of confirmation. In truth he would do everything Jols requiered if he was to be in Dagonet's place - laying injured in the infirmary... But the sad sparkle in Dagonet's eyes said that there was nobody who could be now in his place... In place of a broken man, who had lost his son and almost died searching for his body. Nobody could know how he felt. And he would not want anybody to be in his position right now.
Jols always was too modest... It was not a flaw or not a virtue... in Dagonet's mind it was the way Jols was. Not afraid and not uncertain of himself.. just modest. Dagonet wanted to smile at his friend but could not still allow himself even a short moment of happiness... Guilt inside him was too strong. "It was not the compliment, I mean it, Jols." And then laugh rumbled through Jols's chest... and Dagonet frowned slightly in curiousity.
"Lancelot misses a lot of perfect opportunities..." he said with a slight smirk. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 25 2010, 11:06 PM Post #51 |
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Author: Starbelle Date: Thu Jun 05, 2008 2:26 pm Jols
"Yes, that he does. He would've enjoyed seeing me like that, I think. You'll just have to tell him about what he missed out on then, Dagonet." Jols replied laughing again, quite tickled at the thought of Lancelot's reaction and glad to see the slight smirk on his brother's face in response to his comment. "Its good to see you smile again, Dags. I was starting to miss that." The squire commented to the other knight after his laughter stopped. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 25 2010, 11:07 PM Post #52 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Thu Jun 05, 2008 3:06 pm Arthur Arthur had begun to dream…..a dark night, cold and windy. A pain in his chest as the Roman stood high upon the stone structure. The Wall snaked over the frozen landscape on either side of him as his intense emerald gaze surveyed the blackness beyond the reach of the torch lights. Arthur’s chilled fingers languidly rubbed over the pendant he wore about his neck…not his father’s cross but another possession equally as significant.
A voice slowly penetrated Arthur’s shadowy slumber; a slight tremble of the bed as if someone had joined the Roman where he lay. And then a faint touch on his arm, familiar fingers…Darya? No. They were the long, slender fingers of….Lancelot. And thus the voice Arthur had heard now made perfect sense. ‘My friend.’ He slid his fingers from the cross at his throat to close over the wet sleeve of Lancelot’s overcoat. Or at least Arthur assumed the other man was dressed against the weather outside. “How do the others fair?” Arthur asked without opening his eyes. He could only assume that Lancelot had returned to report on the rest of the men as the Commander had requested. A cold droplet of water landed on the top of Arthur’s hand and he finally opened his eyes to look up at Lancelot. The other man’s black curly hair was slicked back away from his angular face; exposing his tall forehead and making Lancelot appear younger and almost innocent….if that was even possible. “And what shall I do with you, hm?” Arthur added with a slight wrinkle of his nose and crease in his brow. The Commander was not so much speaking about Lancelot’s current distressed appearance as he was on his yet undecided ‘punishment’. His green eyes were gentle though as he truly was concerned about the other man’s physical state. Arthur’s gaze drifted from Lancelot’s muddy expression to the arm where he recalled the other man’s wound to be. He pulled his hand from Lancelot’s forearm and returned it to cover his own wound….impertinent had been the touch. Despite his throbbing head and twinging side, Arthur was able to focus on Lancelot’s dark eyes again and ‘see’ some sort of turmoil there. He gave a questioning look up at Lancelot half expecting a truthful answer for once. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 25 2010, 11:08 PM Post #53 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Thu Jun 05, 2008 4:46 pm Mari Ok so she had been wrong about what had upset Milan. Mari's eyebrows twitched upwards and she shrugged her shoulders up to her ears, looking even more tiny than normal as she struggled to comprehend what Milan had so in a knot. Her clumsy nature had not upset him before so she did not think it was the fact that she had ended up face first in a puddle ... so what then? He shook his head fiercely at first, but it slowed and his face dropped in defeat. Mari shook her head a little as he gave her a hug, lifting one hand to touch his shoulder, the other still holding the towel up over her otherwise bare body. "Please Milan, tell me - speak to me. I want to understand." the young woman attempted, her voice becoming a breathy whisper as his lips touched her bare shoulder. She turned her face towards him, her nose brushing against his cheek as she tried to pull her head back enough to see his face, to watch his eyes if he opened them. "I hate knowing I've upset you and not knowing how... " She explained, "It makes me feel so useless and silly to just carry on pretending that I understand when I really don't. Can you try? Please? For me?" Mari asked hopefully. She knew that he could speak, whether he could verbalise what was in his mind was another matter, but she at least wanted him to try. As an exercise with the hopeful outcome that she might understand. The cool air in the room began to creep in against her bare body which was still glistening with the water from the baths. Mari gave an unexpected shiver and rolled one shoulder to loosen the cold muscle there. TEndrils of dark hair lay against her smooth shoulder, contrasting beautifully with her pale skin. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 26 2010, 09:54 PM Post #54 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Thu Jun 05, 2008 9:09 pm Malcus Barbattus and Neeria Malcus looked up the woad woman, splayed upon the back of the horse looking quite pleased with herself, and stifled another laughed. She looked ridiculous and the captain figured she’d be flat on her back before the horse got out of the barn. Barbattus checked the security of his saddle one final time, making sure that it was nice and snug around Falco. Everything felt good. Malcus was pleased.
Malcus looked at the scout and grinned. “By the look on her face, Tristan, I don’t think she’ll be a threat. If she does try to escape though, just shoot her,” the captain said, pointing to Tristan’s bow. Barbattus snorted in disgust, adjusted his armor and climbed up onto Falco, patting the horse’s long neck. “Good man,” he said affectionately. Falco whickered and shook his thick mane. The captain checked his weapons and felt that everything was in order. Malcus Cicero Barbattus, not necessarily a religious man but a believer nonetheless, crossed himself and muttered a silent prayer just as he did every time he rode out. Neeria tried not to show her feelings of sheer terror as Sitra shifted her weight. The mare stamped her hooves as a sign that she was ready to go, which gently rocked her nervous rider. Panicking, Neeria leaned forward and grabbed the horse's mane to hold on to. The woad’s eyes widened with fear. Malcus sighed heavily, "We'll never get out of the Keep at this rate," Malcus said with genuine agitation. “Where in the bloody hell is Scipio?” Neeria had no idea who Scipio was or how to make the beast beneath her move. Sensing her confusion, the stable boy reached down and grabbed Sitra’s reigns. “Guide her with these,” he said awkwardly as he raised the leather straps up to woad. Neeria stared at the straps blankly, not knowing what he meant. She took the straps from him and held them in a fist. How did she guide the horse with these? Neeria stole a glance at Tristan. She was still seething from his earlier, unexpected physical attack. “How do I make this beast go, Sarmatian?” she asked between gritted teeth. She did not want to talk to Tristan again, but she wanted to talk to the Roman even less. She stared at Tristan and waited for his verbal assault. Titrus
The woman touched him. She placed her hand on Titrus and his skin suddenly burned with desire. The sensation of her fingers on the back of his hand felt like sautered iron scorching his flesh. The woman’s cheeks suddenly flushed. Was she getting as aroused as Titrus? “Catherine,” he repeated, “a beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” The Roman dropped his gaze again and looked at the lines carved into the wood of the table. On the battlefield, Titrus was fierce. He was second to Captain Barbattus – a coveted position at the Keep. But in the face of this beautiful blond, Titrus felt like a puddle of goo, even if she was a whore. In the back of his mind, he knew this woman would use what ever charms necessary to gain a coin. But Titrus, because of his lonely heart and the urgent desire in his loins, preferred to believe, at least for a moment, that she was just as attracted to him as he was to her.
“It has become quite warm in here, tis true,” Titrus said with a smile. Good. She would take the lead in making the … negotiations. The word itself didn’t feel right to Titrus, but he knew that’s what it would be – a business arrangement. Nothing more. Titrus locked his blue eyes onto the woman’s gaze and read the playfulness in them. “Perhaps another location will allow us to get to know one another better. Some place private?” The woman seemed amused, almost mischievous but liked the idea of leaving. As the barmaid walked by, Titrus slipped some coins into her palm. The barmaid snorted haughtily, irritated that the whore had slipped yet another potential customer from her. “Hope ta see ya agin, Titrus,” she said, rolling her eyes at Catherine and walking away. Titrus stood up from the bench and stuck his elbow out for Catherine to grab hold. The woman rose from the table with the grace of a swan and touched Titrus’ elbow. “This way, lady Catherine,” Titrus said leading her to the rear exit of the tavern.
"For that, I am hoping," Titrus smiled broadly at the woman’s use of the royal term again. Once they were outside, Titrus slid his arm around her small waist, underneath his wing, to keep her warm and to protect her from the rain. He briefly remembered Eala, whom he’d done the same thing to just a few hours previously. “Let us settle our arrangement and then find a place to go,” he said as they stepped out in the rain together. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 26 2010, 09:56 PM Post #55 |
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Author: linnet Date: Thu Jun 05, 2008 9:09 pm Gawain It wasn’t for sympathy, or commiseration, or advice that Gawain was telling his closest friend about Brianna’s disappearance. It was to get the whole thing out there, to give Galahad enough information so that he’d be able to answer when people would ask him why Brianna and Gawain weren’t together. And Gawain knew there would be plenty of folks who would hesitate to ask him directly, so instead they’d query his friend. At least that was the reason Gawain believed he was telling his story of abandonment. That and the suspicion that Galahad might be encouraged to open up himself. In fact, Gawain had just been carrying it all around inside himself for too long. Every time the reality invaded his consciousness, he would futilely try to understand and make sense of things. But he’d end up nowhere, and would push the whole matter back out of his consciousness. The bubbling up and forcing back down could only go on so long before there had to be some outlet. He didn’t know why he was so concerned about how Galahad would react. He didn’t want to see pity, especially from the younger man. He half expected to see a smirk of ‘not such a hot-shot as you thought you were, eh?’ and he didn’t want that, even if it was true. What he saw, instead, in Galahad’s face was first surprise and then anger. That anger, surprisingly made Gawain feel better about Brianna than he had since first learning she was gone. Anger was definitely part of how he had been reacting, but guilt that he was angry only piled on top of the guilt he had for failing to be what she wanted. His brother’s outrage let Gawain think that maybe it wasn’t so wrong to be mad about what she had done.
Gawain hadn’t been prepared for that revelation. He’d expected it to be some sort of argument or hurt feelings, not unfaithfulness. “Shit,” he said, leaning back and letting his breath out very slowly. He watched Galahad fuss with the edge of the table, looking uncomfortable and dejected. “You know as well as I do that there are good women who are well worth it, and bad ones who aren’t worth a damn. Trouble is trying to figure out which they are before it’s too late.” He drained his tankard and signaled for two more ales. He hadn’t been seeking advice, and he knew Galahad probably would resent receiving any as well. But Gawain couldn’t just sit there and see his friend so unhappy, almost resigned to his misery. So he waited until the girl brought the round of drinks, paid for them again, and plodded in where he had to go, welcome or not. “You have to decide if Alina is worth fighting for. If she is, let her know you’re going to fight for her. Find the bastard that moved in on her, and make it very clear, so that he feels it every time he moves, that he won’t be messing with your woman again. Make it clear to her that she had one chance to fuck up, and she’s used it. If she’s not worth fighting for, the hell with her.” Gawain fixed his eyes on Galahad, but couldn't tell if he'd even been paying any attention to the attempt to prod some resolve into him. The blonde knight knew that his advice had next to zero credibility, based on his own relationship failure. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 26 2010, 09:56 PM Post #56 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Thu Jun 05, 2008 9:24 pm Mona Mona shadowed Guinevere as the woad princess made her way through the commons toward the stables. Staying out of sight while keeping an eye on Guinevere was proving to be difficult for Mona. Oh show she’d love to just shoot an arrow in the other woman’s back and be done with her. But Mona knew it wasn’t the right time; not just yet, but soon. Mona couldn’t stop a smile from curling on her lips. And what of Neeria? Mona had no idea what shape the woman was in. There was no doubt in Mona’s mind that Neeria would fight till the death for Guinevere. The two of them would be formidable adversaries. At least she didn’t have Ash or Connell to deal with also. Suddenly Guinevere signaled to her, breaking Mona’s thoughts. The princess pointed to a building which was obviously the stable. Then the princess pointed to an archway where they could hide momentarily. Checking her surroundings first, Mona darted into the dark archway and knelt down, waiting for Guinevere. From there, they had a clear line of vision. Once Guinevere got to the archway, Mona, still trying to keep up pretenses, offered the other woman a flask of water. “This is a good place to wait,” she said and took a swig of water from her own flask. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 26 2010, 09:58 PM Post #57 |
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Author: sabor ice Date: Thu Jun 05, 2008 9:35 pm Cáel
She was mysterious indeed, this nameless lady - he would give her that much. Cáel was not one to pry, though. He was not curious. Her past, her present, they were of no interest to him. To wonder meant he wanted to get to know her, that he cared enough to try, but rest assured this was not the case. He was friendly by nature, but never became involved. He was rather incapable of having interpersonal relationships. The spark of humanity that connected most people on some level simply did not exist with him. Cáel was hollow inside. His love was of money. Artificial happiness. "Exceptionally," Cáel replied, his wry smile mirroring hers a moment. He folded his hands in front of him and gave a humble shrug of his shoulders. "It's true I left a great deal behind choosing to return home - my shop and my business partner. I come from a long line of craftsmen and artisans, you see. The jewelry business admittedly pays well, but I'm sure you would agree that no amount of money in the world can compare to family." He smiled warmly at the mention of family, his eyes lighting up with genuine compassion. Cáel simply oozed sincerity. Deception was a game the Goth had learned to play so well that sometimes he actually believed the crock of shit it usually produced.
"Yes..." he murmured gravely, with a non-committal nod of his head. "I was told all about it by this young lad at the gate. Such a shame...about the attacks, that is. I suppose he just wasn't quite convinced I passed for a Woad." He winked, his smile effortlessly returning. "I am confident my family is well...they have always been rather self-reliant, even in dire times."
The Goth snorted in mild amusement and shook his head, his laughter that followed infectious. "Goodness, no. I simply abhor tea unless I'm ill. Contrary to popular belief, there are still some of us men who tolerate healers and their various concoctions," he mused good-naturedly, flattening his palms against the table as he pushed away from it. Cáel hunkered over to gather his belongings, hauling it back over his shoulder before standing erect again. He inclined his head toward the door, his smile inviting. "Walk with me, hm? If you do not mind the rain nor my ghastly company, that is." |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 26 2010, 09:59 PM Post #58 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Thu Jun 05, 2008 9:44 pm Adian
Adian cocked his head and gazed at the young woman next to him as they walked. He knew himself, and he also knew what women liked...sometimes. Did Tatiana really want to know him? If she did, he was sure she'd be surprised. In his mind, he thought back to how he had suduced Thorn the first day he saw her....their bout of lovemaking in the confessionals. Well, at least Tatiana was sincere enough, but he wanted to mourn Thorn first, and to remember her. To encase her memory in his heart... "Very well then," He gave Tatiana a charming, but sad smile. For him, the grief was still very close. "Friends for now." He wanted to know Tatiana, but to Adian, it would have been disrespectful of him to just rush into another relatioship and just forget about her. He liked Tatiana's disposition, but right now, he wanted to think on his lost lover. I would like to get to know you as well...but first things first....
Wow, alot of information just semed to collide together, but Adian processed it in his mind. So she was not one of those rich snobs...this tiny petite thing worked in the stables with Mirtha. Plus she knew something of herbs. Stopping by the low stone wall of the garden, Adian reached out and snapped a twig from an overhanging bush, and looked at it carefully. "I worked on a farm near here and then when my friend Ione went missing, I went to look for her. I found her, and Thorn on pretty much the same day...I decided to settle here, and found work doing carpentry...Plus I hunt and bring fresh meat into the tavern....in secret." He began to peel the wood of the bark with his nail, then dropped it on the ground. "I have a horse named Wogan. He loves ale..." |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 26 2010, 10:05 PM Post #59 |
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Author: sabor ice Date: Thu Jun 05, 2008 10:39 pm Milan
Milan had nearly forgotten whose trial his inability to properly communicate with it actually was. If he was this palpably frustrated, Mari must've been on the verge of being completely discouraged. She had always been forced to supply the conversation. She had always had to guess his meaning solely from reactions. He couldn't begin to imagine the painstaking patience she had endured since the first time they had encountered. To continue this silent charade now would've been perpetually selfish and unfair. Milan owed it to Mari to try. After all, she wasn't asking for a miracle, just a chance, a chance to understand him better. She shuddered and unconsciously he pulled her inside the confinements of his coat, his hands holding the material flat against her tiny form. His thoughts were far from carnal - it didn't occur to him that the only thing that separated her nakedness from him between the extremely close proximity of their bodies was a towel. He opened his eyes and looked past her toward some undefinable point on the wall. Milan sighed, his features concentrated, thoughtful. There were endless possibilities of what he could speak; however, he was still sorely limited in speech. He racked his brain for something to try to say, something coherent, something she could hopefully understand. Finally it came to him. He sighed again, then parted his lips, an awful droning noise escaping them at first as he attempted to pronounce his words. "Be..." Milan began, straining his neck back and tucking in his chin to be able to look down the length of his nose into Mari's beautiful brown eyes. "...safe." And, that was it. That was all he asked of her. To be safe. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 26 2010, 10:06 PM Post #60 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Fri Jun 06, 2008 6:32 am Tristan
"You don't." Tristan answered shortly, with a roll of his eyes, as he stepped forward and took the reins out of the Woad prisoner's hands. He had to tug them a little bit- she seemed reluctant to let them go, clutching them in her fists, but what the stable boy had said aside, Tristan didn't think it was best to have her try to control her own mount. Either she'd try some trick, or she'd just be incapable of it and slow them all up. Neither desirable. Tristan clicked his tongue to Tirgatao, and when his mount approached, he tied Sitra's reins to his own saddlebow instead. There. They'd make an awkward train, but it was better this way. And if they came into danger and the woman became a liability, he could just cut Sitra's reins and let her fend for herself. Not that she would very well, as long as she was on that horse. Finished tying the appropriate knots, Tristan looked up at the Woad again- now that she did not have the reins to hold onto she looked even more precarious. It wouldn't do to have to stop along the way to pick her up off the ground. "You can hold on here." Grudgingly Tristan slapped the pommel in front of Neeria. "Not the mane. Grip with your knees. And sit up straight." Tristan accompanied that with an upward gesture with his hands, illustrating what he meant. Who knew whether it would help her much or not. Riding took practice- and it was best learned when very young. And Woads just didn't have the talent for it, in his opinion. Well, he had done what he could. Having delivered those gruff instructions, he went around to the other side of Tirgatao and swung easily into his own saddle, his hand barely touching the horse at all. Once he was seated, he clucked to his mount again, urging him forward and down the stable's central aisle, and barely swaying in his seat even though he was also twisted around, making sure that Neeria didn't fall off before they were even out of the stables, one hand lightly touching the rein connecting the two horses and the other resting nonchalantly on his leg. Was she going to stay on, now that they were moving? Or would he have to tie her to the damn saddle after all? |
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