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June 2008
Topic Started: Mar 23 2010, 07:18 PM (3,706 Views)
golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Lancelot
Date: Fri Jun 06, 2008 9:59 am
Lancelot


The Sarmatian wasn't sure if Arthur was awake or asleep, but
the other man opened his eyes and placed a hand over
Lancelot's sodden jacket sleeve.

Arthur
 
“How do the others fare? And what shall I do with you,
hm?”


Lancelot's gaze followed as Arthur removed his hand. He sighed
and shoved fingers through his hair again, his forehead
comically white compared to the rest of his dirty face.

"I haven't been gone long enough to check yet, Arthur. I made
it to the stores," he nodded at the leathers he'd thrown over
a chair, "but halfway to the valetudinarium I realized I'd ...
left something here."

Only my fucking livelihood. And apparently my brain as well.

He moved off the edge of the bed, and placed his wet butt
carefully on the stool that was next to Arthur's bed. "Did you
speak with the bas- with the Optio? I didn't see him in the
courtyard with the others yet." He fidgeted briefly, his
breath coming tightly - his chest felt constricted for some
reason. Perhaps just exhaustion. "Do you want for anything?"

Lancelot's mood and the feeling in the room was rapidly
becoming strange. He found he was willing to look at anything
but the Roman for some reason, and stared into the brazier
that was glowing orange and red and managed to keep Arthur's
large room warm, despite the horrid, nasty rain and the chill
outside. His eyes flickered to where his blades were, leant
nicely against Excalibur. They shone together, both sets of
weapons lying quietly in their respective sheaths.

Unlike their owners.

"And what do you mean, what shall you do with me? I'm to go
see Dags, and then to 'rest,' as you ordered. I forgot my damn
swords, Arthur, otherwise I would be doing just that. Forgive
my stupidity."

Forgive my stupidity, and my recklessness, and my not being
there when I should have. Forgive my attitude, and my heart,
and my idiotic tongue that flaps when it should be silent.
Forgive my boundaries and my own walls and my tendencies to
cover my pain with words.

Forgive me, please.

Lancelot cleared his throat. He did not like second guessing
himself, or his feelings, or thinking he'd done something
wrong when Arthur had clearly been the one to throw him out of
the room that night -

The odd and annoying anger he'd been feeling came and went,
swirling about his mind like bees in a hive that had been
stirred by rocks. He finally met Arthur's eyes, and pursed his
lips. "What am I to do with you?" His tone was gentle, and
belied the emotions that fluttered in his body and head. He
could deal with himself; but if he felt Arthur was doing
something not in the Roman's best interest, he'd be damn sure
to say something to him.

Forgot my fucking swords here because I was too distracted.
That is most definitely your fault, Arthur. This will end,
here, one way or another. I cannot live with warring in my
heart - and if that means we cannot be friends, or the way we
were...ah, fuck.

Deep in his secret place, where Lancelot hid most of the
things that were important to him - and important for them to
not be discovered - he found the idea of not being at least
friends with Arthur to be - he shook his head, and squeezed at
his dripping curls again. "What am I to do with me?"

His words were soft and almost unintelligible, and his dark
eyes picked up the hazy light in the room, making them seem
unfocused and a riot of colors that hid his confusion.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Starbelle
Date: Fri Jun 06, 2008 1:09 pm
Tatiana


Adian
 
"Very well then," "Friends for now."


"Friends are a very good thing to have. As one can't have too
many friends, you know." Tatiana replied while gently smiling
at him since she'd seen the sad, but charming smile appear on
the carpenter's face and her heart went out to him in
sympathy. She wanted to hug him and let him know that his
Thorn was still with him and always would be, but felt that
now just wasn't the right time to do that, so she kept that
thought to herself for the time being.

Adian
 
"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.. . "I have
a horse named Wogan... He loves ale..."


"Wow! That's very intreguing, Adian. I didn't know that you
did that type of work, it definetly sounds interesting. How
long have you been a carpenter?" She asked curiously, glancing
over at him a fascinated look on her face as he told her what
his specialty of work was. "What type of breed is Wogan? I've
never heard of a horse liking ale before, he must be very
unique, then." She said tilting her head sideways as she
mentally digested the information that he told her about
himself.

Adian is a very interesting gent from what he's told me about
himself so far. Wogan and Adian sound like a unique pair.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: LadyCastus
Date: Fri Jun 06, 2008 7:39 pm
Neeria


Tristan
 
You don't


If her look could have killed him, Tristan would be dead. What
did the scout mean ‘you don’t’? Surely you must have to do
something make the horse move, Neeria thought, or how else
would the dumb beast know to go forward? Tristan reached up
and tried to take the reins from Neeria’s clutched fists. Now
it was Neeria who no longer trusted the scout. Was he going to
strangle her with the straps? The woad resisted at first but
then reluctantly, she narrowed her eyes and released the thin
leather straps.

Neeria watched as Tristan made a noise with his mouth and his
horse walked right up to him. The woman pushed her lips
forward and lifted her tongue, trying to mock the sound. With
her head tilted to the side, Neeria watched Tristan tie her
horse’s reins to his own beast. She started to protest but
thought better of it.

Neeria shifted her weight and wobbled in the saddle. The woman
grabbed a handful of the horse’s thick mane again as tightly
as she could, eyes wide with fear once more. Tristan looked up
at her, shaking his head, and slapped the saddle’s pommel.

Tristan
 
You can hold on here, not the mane. Grip with your knees
and sit up straight.


“Not the main what, scout?” Neeria said, not understanding
what he was referring to. She looked at the back of the
horse’s head, where Tristan was looking, and asked again, “the
main what?”

Tristan had told her to grip with her knees which of course
was impossible. The woman’s short legs were spread so far
apart over the width of the big mare that there was no way she
could grip with her knees, the horse was just too wide.
Tristan had told her to sit up straight but she was sitting as
straight as she could, considering the still painful wound in
her side. But not wanting to appear weak, Neeria sucked in a
deep breath and pushed her chest forward, raising her abdomen
and straightening her back. It hurt like the hells of the
underworld, but she refused to give Tristan the satisfaction
of seeing her discomfort.

Neeria watched as Tristan walked around his horse and almost
like flying, lifted his thin, muscular body into the saddle
with hardly an effort. He made that noise with his mouth again
and as his horse moved, so did the one carrying Neeria. The
movement startled the woman so badly that she lunged forward
and grabbed the leather knob protruding from the front of the
saddle just like Tristan had told her to do. However the
saddle swayed, which frightened Neeria even more, so the
terrified woman flailed her legs in fear, to steady herself.
Taking the action as a sure signal that it was time to go, the
gray mare raised her head and started to trot for the barn
door.

Neeria looked at Tristan with panic in her eyes just as she
began to scream.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: sabor ice
Date: Sat Jun 07, 2008 12:41 am

Nadeem


Nadeem lifted his empty flask to the sky, allowing it to fill
with fresh rainwater. He took a swig before slinging it back
into a loop on his saddle. He plucked at the excess black
cloth round his neck and adjusted it over the lower half of
his face again, the material acting as a make-shift guard
against the cruel whip of the wind. His shrewd dark eyes slid
a glance back at his convoy, the caravan bumming along over
uneven ground at an excruciatingly meager pace. It was on its
last legs, so to speak, practically being forcibly toted along
by the exhausted horses.

The beetle had been a sign of danger, but Nadeem had
misinterpreted its warning. It had not been death approaching
- this time. They had salvaged what they could from the spill.
Thankfully most of the food had been spared, as well as the
medical supplies. A small delay, nothing more. Allah had
smiled upon them throughout such a potentially treacherous
journey.

The fort was just up ahead now. Their success was nearly
tangible. His men were tired, anxious, frustrated, but he was
completely complacent. Horus - Nadeem's gray and white hawk -
swooped over the wall and circled widely. It gave an
exclaiming screech overhead, seemingly announcing the long
preceded arrival of his master.

Nadeem looked to his left and nodded toward Abaas. The man
returned the gesture, effortlessly dismounted, and promptly
marched up to the gate when the peep-hole slid open and a
soldier called out to them to state their business. Abaas
stuffed a cylinder-folded piece of parchment through the
opening in the gate. The soldier warily eyed the masked
messenger, took the paper, and slammed the peep-hole shut
again.

A short time later, the gate gave a protesting groan and
slowly swung open. Nadeem gave the non-verbal command with a
jut of two fingers for his men to move.

"Stand by for inspection," the soldier told Nadeem as his
group passed, and then muttered something unintelligibly under
his breath - something about 'can never be too careful these
days.'
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Darya
Date: Sat Jun 07, 2008 8:12 am
Darya


Cael
 
"Exceptionally… 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."


Darya watched Gabriel closely as he replied to her
questions…and reacted to her other comments. He appeared to be
a pleasant fellow…yet he was still a stranger…and of course
there could always be a great difference between what someone
was saying and what that person was thinking. Experience had
taught her that…and of course, she was no different. Thus the
Sarmatian just took in the information Gabriel was giving her.
“Jewelry…”, the dark-haired mused and her eyes sparkled
slightly for a moment. Every woman had a liking for jewelry…so
had Darya. It was not that important to her…but still…

At the mention of the family’s importance in one’s life, the
woman gave the man opposite her a rather sad smile. The Gods
knew just how much she missed her family…and how much the
ignorance about their destinies was nagging on her. Not just
of her direct family…but of her whole tribe. Did it still
exist? Gods, she did not even know if her home country still
existed. With a sigh, she leaned a bit forward and pursed her
lips slightly. “You are right…I do agree…”, Darya replied
quietly and a corner of her mouth twitched briefly, “…yet it
seems that money and family are intrinsically tied to each
other…for these days it is money that can help you to get
information about your family when you are separated from
them. Or worse…depending on where you are, money might even
free your family from…slavery…” The dark Sarmatian stiffly
licked her lips and lowered her gaze for a moment, once more
pushing her dark thoughts aside. Only when Gabriel/Cáel spoke
again, her dark eyes lingered on him again…

Cael
 
"Yes... 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. I am confident my family is well...they have
always been rather self-reliant, even in dire times."


“Maybe that was because you don’t have blue paint on you…”,
Darya commented and gave him another wry smile while nodding
slightly at Gabriel’s words about his family most likely being well. And suddenly Arthur’s emerald gaze appeared before her mind’s eye. Was he still well? Or had the who-knew-how-long discussion with the Optio and Lancelot been too much for him in his weakened state? Darya frowned slightly and made a mental note to check on her lover soon…

Cael
 
"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…
Walk with me, hm? If you do not mind the rain nor my
ghastly company, that is."


The woman’s eyebrows shot up at this reply and she shook her
head slightly before finally emptying the mug completely while
watching Gabriel move and apparently getting ready to
leave the tavern. And then he asked her to walk with him. An
unexpected question for sure… “I’ve gotten used to all the
rain on this island…”, the Sarmatian said and snorted
slightly, “…I still don’t like it…but oh well…” Then she put
the mug down and stood from her chair, adjusting the long wide
cloak about her slender form as she did so. “Ghastly, eh? I’d
rather say different than ghastly…”, the dark-haired added and
tilted her head again, “…yet are you sure you want company…for
I assume you want to search for your family?”
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: golden_trillium
Date: Sat Jun 07, 2008 8:23 am
Tristan


Neeria
 
“Not the main what, scout? The main what?”


"Mane. Hair!" Boiling over with exasperation, Tristan gestured
violently at his own hair, then at Sitra's mane. praying that
this bloody idiot woman would make the connection. It was
perhaps a badly chosen action, though, because that, combined
with the horses starting to move forward, sent the Woad into a
complete panic. She rocked violently in the saddle, then
flailed her legs out uselessly in fear, startling the mare
into a faster trot that brought her up alongside Tirgatao and
even a little ahead of him. Tristan leaned sideways in the
saddle and grabbed hastily at the mare's rein, swearing
viciously under his breath.

"Fucking son of a whore...Captain!" The scout straightened up
and called distractedly back to Barbattus. "This'll-" he broke
off to practically shove Neeria back into place on the saddle-
she had very nearly fallen off as Sitra edged sideways, closer
to Tirgatao- "- never work." He clamped his hand down harder
on Neeria's shoulder, the muscles in his arms tensed to iron
to keep her balanced at arm's length while she flailed around.

"I think she should double with someone." Which probably means
fucking me, the scout thought savagely, but it looked like
there was nothing for it. They didn't have time to teach the
damn prisoner to ride, and as it was, they would never make it
out of the gate without her falling and cracking her head open
on the stones. Which might be good riddance, but was no doubt
not what the Commander or anyone else intended.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Elessars Girl
Date: Sat Jun 07, 2008 9:14 am

Arthur


Arthur attempted to read Lancelot which should be easier with
the other man’s dark curls shoved back out of his angular
face….but the Roman was finding it difficult as Lancelot
seemed to avoid Arthur’s assessing gaze. The already well
pronounced lines across Arthur’s brow deepened in concern at
not finding what he sought….

Something troubles him to avoid my eyes as he does.

Lancelot
 
"I haven't been gone long enough to check yet, Arthur. I
made it to the stores, but halfway to the valetudinarium
I realized I'd ... left something here."


The Commander’s gaze briefly ticked to where Lancelot
gestured. But Arthur still hadn’t realized his lieutenant’s
prized twin blades still rested comfortably with Excalibur
instead of strapped to Lancelot’s back.

Arthur inwardly sighed the moment Lancelot moved from the bed
as if he needed space between them. Surely they were both
beyond any emotions of discomfort with each other’s company.
The Roman had thought he’d simplified their relationship –
friendship – when he had ended their physical involvement. He
had hoped to put an end to the guilt he continually felt when
with Darya and Lancelot was now free to whore with whomever he
chose. Yet, there was something in those dark eyes that seemed
to contradict what little Lancelot had spoken on the matter.

An ache in Arthur’s side successfully distracted him and he
moved a hand to once again press over the small line of
stitches beneath his tunic. He bent his left leg and attempted
to find a more comfortable position on the bed as Lancelot
spoke again.

Lancelot
 
"Did you speak with the bas- with the Optio? I didn't
see him in the courtyard with the others yet. Do you
want for anything?"


Arthur waved off Lancelot’s inquiry as the only immediate need
the Roman had was for rest….and to discover what troubled his
best friend. He then unconsciously bit at his dry bottom lip
while thinking on the discussion he’d had with the Optio in
regards to Lancelot. Arthur had no intention of satisfying
Scipio’s request for ‘proper’ retribution for actions the
Commander felt were understandable considering the situation.
But Arthur would certainly........distracted again his gaze
fell to Lancelot’s hands as the Sarmatian appeared to
uncharacteristically fidget.

Lancelot
 
"And what do you mean, what shall you do with me? I'm to
go see Dags, and then to 'rest,' as you ordered. I
forgot my damn swords, Arthur, otherwise I would be
doing just that. Forgive my stupidity."


“There is nothing to forgive, Lancelot. You, my friend, are
exhausted and not yourself,” Arthur answered with kindness and
glanced over to at last see Lancelot’s blades resting with his
own weapon. His sword calloused hand formed a fist as if
longing to grip at the hilt of Excalibur and draw upon her
power. Arthur perhaps now understood Lancelot’s
restlessness….those twin blades were as much apart of the
Sarmatian as Arthur’s sword was a living breathing part of his
own life force.

Lancelot
 
"What am I to do with you?"


The gentle tone in Lancelot’s voice immediately drew Arthur’s
attention. He stiffly pushed himself into a sitting position
on the bed; not bothering to hide his discomfort but not
wanting for anything from Lancelot either. The Sarmatian’s
presence was comfort enough.

“I am fine,” Arthur answered quietly and he hoped reassuringly
enough while turning his attention to the orange and yellow
flickering of the flames in the hearth. He pursed his lips and
thought to fill Lancelot in on his discussion with Scipio. But
tiny words from Lancelot changed Arthur’s focus again.

Lancelot
 
"What am I to do with me?"


The words were spoken so softly that Arthur had nearly missed
them. But he had heard them and turned to once again carefully
regard Lancelot’s dark features. What has him so distressed?

“Talk to me, Lancelot,” Arthur urged his friend and reached
for the other man; lightly pressing his fingertips upon
Lancelot’s knee cap. “Unless you would prefer that I read to
you from one of my favorite scrolls,” Arthur added with a
touch of dry humor. “I would hear what is troubling you,” He
continued to urge Lancelot to voice what so obviously occupied
his thoughts. Had the Sarmatian discovered something further
about Scipio? Or had some other troublesome matter made itself
known in the brief time Lancelot had been away from Arthur’s
quarters? Emerald eyes searched the depths of Lancelot’s
expression and an index finger prodded at the other man’s
leather clad bony knee pressing the point.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Pinkie
Date: Sat Jun 07, 2008 1:24 pm
Drake


God...! Drake thought abruptly, his teeth gritting together
audibly when Linnette placed her hand over his to halt his
departure. She, of course, would have no idea that even those
little touches were becoming more and more like an agony for
him because of the fact that this is all they would ever have.
It was just as he cast a wary look back over his shoulder at
Linnette Drake realised he had not compared her touch, her
attitude, smile nor composure to anything like Cecile in a
long time. His original 'excuse' to observe Linnette had
fallen by the wayside at some point...

Linnette
 
"One condition. Stop in your room and put your things
away first. Take your time."


Her condition was ... amusing? Well, no not amusing. But it
did bring about a wry smile from Drake. He glanced towards the
saddlebags and gave a harumph of consent, shaking his head in
mild amusement as he walked towards them. He bent down,
scooped them up in one large hand and slung them over his
back. At least she had not tried to stop him from helping -
Drake wasn't sure he could do that... Or more precisely, he
wasn't sure he cuold trust someone else to do what he was
doing.

The Spaniard was thumping towards the exit but looked over his
shoulder once to make sure Linnette was eating. Seeing her
tuck into the second bowl of stew gave Drake a feeling of
comfort. So far so good.

As he ducked his head, neglecting to pull up his hood, Drake
hurried through the rain, feeling the cool water rush down the
back of his neck and along his spine. Whilst dodging puddles
and people, the Spaniard found himself wondering if Linnette
would still have been sitting sobbing on the battlements if he
had not come upon her earlier on... ?









Amadeus

Amadeus glanced at the window. It was nearing time to be gone.
He felt confident, cocky even, about this whole thing. He had
never treated with woads before but they were beasts, mere
sub-humans with no social structure, no sense of humanity,
none of the little things that made a civilisation... civil.
They were forest dwellers and nothing more. What chance did
they have against the Might of Rome?

The Roman jutted his chin forward and turned, walking out of
the Rome in all his glory. He was wearing his Roman armour,
it's polished surface gleaming obnoxiously. At his hip there
was a sword that looked impressive - it had to do so beause
Amadeus was not exactly skilled in wielding a sword for
anything other than appearances. Oh he knew how to - he just
wasn't much good at it.

The red cloak swirled behind him as he turned out into the
rain. From behind, his dark hair, noble shoulders pulled back,
the air of authority oozing from every pore - one might have
thought they looked at Arthur Castus. Such a comparison would
not have pleased the Optio however.

Walking into arena of the stables, Amadeus glanced up at
Tristan and Barbattus sitting ready. He gave the men a nod and
then cast an empty look to Neeria. She, to him, was nothing.
She, to him, was dead meat.

He lifted his hand, clicked his fingers and did not even look
to the stable boy as he ordered his horse brought out. It did
not suit Amadeus to ride too often - the wound on teh back of
his thigh causing him quite a deal of pain if in the saddle
too long, however, there was little in the way of choice.
The Optio swung himself into the saddle of his impressive grey
stallion, arranging himself calmly before addressing the men.

"There was another woad, where is she?" he asked, glancing at
Barbattus, not making any attempt to make a move yet, quite
happy to wait for Mordred's appearance and knowing no one
would move without his order. Control...









Catherine

Titrus
 
“Catherine, a beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”


Although Catherine had heard the line a hundred times or more,
she still managed an angelic smile, a beautiful little blush
and a shy laugh at his compliment. Her eyelashes batted
perfectly and when she looked up at him it was from within the
frame of those dark lashes, looking young, impressionable and
willing all at the same time. It was strange how she didn't
get tired of hearing compliments like that. She never fished
for compliments, she didn't think too much on them at all, but
when they came she appreciated them for what they were worth.

Titrus
 
"This way, lady Catherine,”


Biddable - Catherine was extraordinarily biddable. When
'working' Catherine was hardly Catherine at all. She rose when
bidded to do so, smiled when she knew the time was right, and
walked around to take Titrus' elbow as he offered it. It was
only when the wench spoke that Catherine woke up, as such. Her
hazy green eyes swivelled to look at the wench and she
couldn't help but give the woman a smirk, delibrately swaying
her hips closer to Titrus as he led her towards teh door. Try
as she might, Catherine could not help but cast the most
cursory of looks towards Gawain, just to see if he was still
there. When her eyes alighted on the back of his head she
found herself... content, just to know that he was there.
A little part of her brain mocked that lie because it knew
that Catherine was, in fact, relieved that he had not seen her
leave with another man. Why that would matter to a whore was
irrelevant really.

It was still raining.

The blonde hated the thoughts of getting wet and then having
to seduce this man beside her. She would feel dirty, unclean
before she ever undressed. It quite surprised her when her
lithe body was pulled in against Titrus' and his arm sheltered
her. The blonde gave a small laugh, feeling quite juvenile
with him, for some reason, nestled in under his arm.

Titrus
 
"For that, I am hoping, Let us settle our arrangement
and then find a place to go,”


She put a sultry pout to her lips as she glanced up at him,
nodding her head to let him know she knew where they could go.
Inside she was squirming - hating this talk of money, hating
the knowledge that that is what all of this was for - money.
It was so fake! Didn't that bother men?!

Catherine was greatful for the soldier's warmth as they
arrived at the fortress entrance. She hated using this place
for these encounters because it upset Arland, but he would
rather her do it there than to bring men back to her home and
let them know where she lived.

"This way - " Catherine purred, sliding out from under his arm
but reaching in to grasp his hand, leading him along the
corridor towards the room that Arland was allotted. It was a
tiny room - but it had a bed and a pitcher of water which is
all that was needed really. As she walked ahead, Catherine
cast a glance over her shoulder at Titrus, a wicked smile upon
her lips.

"Just here..."

They turned a corner and she twisted her hand in his, smiling
as she turned around to stand in front of him, her chin
lowered a little but her eyes lifted to his face. There was a
playfulness in her expression, a gentle innocence.

"How come you have never taken me before, Titrus?" Catherine
asked quite suddenly, smiling and leaning her body in closer
to his, almost pinning him to the wall. The door that she was
looking for was right behind him at this stage, the corridor
empty, her breathing was quiet but deep as her fingers twisted
around his in an oddly childish fashion. Her other hand lifted
to push a strand of hair back from her pretty face before
reaching up to his chest, laying her fingers, cold and a
little damp from the rain, against the skin visible at his
collarbones.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: SarmatianKnight
Date: Sat Jun 07, 2008 1:27 pm
Lucius


Lucius could feel her curious look, it was burning on his own
body but he ignored it. He bent his head and ignored it very
well, making sure that some strands of hair did not allow a
proper view to his expression.

Saoirse
 
"You Romans an' yer army. Yer whole legion is yer family
an' ye'd die fer anytime right?"


Obviously she believed his story and he was more than relieved
that she did so. He dared an open smile and nodded. "Always.
It is my duty." Then he waited for her answer and the brief
moment of hesitation made him suspicious about whatever she
would tell him. It was the kind of hesitation he was used to
because he had acted the same way for a long time. Patiently
he waited for an answer to come, never breaking their eye
contact.

Saoirse
 
"Nope - no family whats'ever."


There it was: the expected lie. He knew that she lied and she
knew that he knew. And they both did not say it. He just
nodded. Who was he to tell her bluntly that she was a liar and
critizise her when he did exactly the same? So he kept his
mouth shut and wondered why she saw not a bad man in him.
Because he accepted her lie? Probably. It was nit important
really. The additional words for a Roman made him laugh a
little. He could have explained that Romans were no bad people
at all. He could have pointed out that he had seen Romans
doing good things very often already. But he did not because
he felt her tiny hand on his body while she peekd out into the
infirmary. She was strong and she would make it. Lucius knew
it the moment Saoirse straightened her back and left the small
room. He followed her with a smile - duty fulfilled - and
almost bumped into her when she stopped and turned back to him
suddenly and very unexpected. He reached out to help her
keeping her balance immediatly. He did it automatically and
without thinking.

Saoirse
 
"Do I still look a terrible mess? Will he know I was
cryin'?"


She did. And he would know. Lucius was certain of that -
unless the man was a fool and unable to count to three. "You
look gorgeous" he reassured her with a smile. Lies seemed to
be the basis of their conversations. And with this he led her
back to the others, waiting politely a few steps away from the
group.
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golden_trillium

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Author: golden_trillium
Date: Sat Jun 07, 2008 4:13 pm
Linnette


Good. He did take the saddlebags with him, agreeing to her
little “condition” with no protests, and she fully expected
not to see him carrying them around when he came back. They
had looked heavy! Shaking her head tolerantly at the
foolishness of him not just taking the bags with him to his
room the first time he had been there, to clean and bandage
her hand, Which was very kind of him, her mind reiterated to
itself. Linnette picked up her spoon once again and scooped up
a bite, a soft smile of reminiscence touching her face. Gedeon
could eat and eat and eat…he would have put away six bowls of
this stew if he could have, when she herself would be very
full after these two. The amount he could eat had been almost
funny to Linnette- she would have sat there bemused and
quietly stunned, watching him and shaking her head and
smiling, while he scooped and swallowed with single-minded
intensity- then grinned at her and said “What, Lin? Never seen
a man eat?” and tugged playfully at her braid when he realized
she was staring. Yes…it would have happened like that, maybe.

Linnette’s mind spun a little fantasy of that as she ate her
stew. All other activity in the tavern was normal- Vanora was
down at the other end of the counter pouring someone an ale,
the other girls- except of course Thorn- were going about
their chores; Gawain and Galahad were chatting at one table,
familiarly like they old friends they were; the whore named
Catherine was walking out the door with her latest soldier
customer, off to ply her trade. All as usual. Feeling
obscurely comforted by that, Linnette spun in her mind the
most detailed picture she possibly could of her husband, and
placed him sitting on the bar stool next to hers. He would be
wearing the dark blue tunic, the one she liked so much on him,
and his hair would be damp from the rain and a little messy.
He would be eating stew in prodigious quantity, of course, and
there would be a little mud on his pants and boots from
outside. She would tell him he needed to take a bath. He would
joke that she ought to join him, then scoop up some more stew.
She would laugh and indignantly refuse, and he would cock his
eyebrow at her and ask why not, then take another bite of
stew. They would chat about the happenings of their respective
mornings. Maybe they would fall into a companionable silence
after a while. But he would be there.

Linnette took another bite of her own- real, and delicious-
stew, and sighed, her gaze on the empty stool and the vision
in her mind. Her eyes had become misty from her thoughts, but
the vision was not painful- wistful and longing, but not
painful. She wanted it there, wanted Gedeon occupying her mind
if he was not to be there in reality. So she held the picture
there, kept Gedeon there beside her as she slowly worked her
way through her second bowl of stew- ate lunch with her
invisible husband, while the rest of the buzz of the tavern
swirled around her.
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golden_trillium

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Author: Lancelot
Date: Sat Jun 07, 2008 7:20 pm

Lancelot


Lancelot was thinking as he stared at his blades; what fool
leaves behind his means of life and then has the balls to
admit to it? What fool allows his friend to speak to him
kindly and tell him 'it's not your fault, you're exhausted.'?
What kind of idiot can't control his own brain?

Arthur's touch on his knee made Lancelot look up, his eyes
large in his angular face, the hair shoved off his forehead
making him look all of twelve years old, instead of the twenty
five that he was. He met Arthur's gaze fearlessly, but had to
swallow hard as the other man voiced his concerns.

Arthur
 
“Talk to me, Lancelot. Unless you would prefer that I
read to you from one of my favorite scrolls. I would
hear what is troubling you,”


It spoke to the first knight's mood that Arthur's 'funny' only
caused a passing smile to crinkle Lancelot's face briefly. It
came and went like the lights being doused in the halls in the
mornings - leaving behind only smoke and the idea that they
had even been lit a few seconds previous - dark and silent now
for the rest of the day.

"I would hear what the Optio and you discussed," he danced
around Arthur's statement. What good would it do to speak to
Arthur of his thoughts - his brain wasn't in the best state
and he himself wasn't sure of what he needed to decide in the
first place.

Oh, well, Arthur, see, I'm not sure if I still love you, and I
really do need to think on what being away from you does to
me. And by the way, I didn't mean for you to think I thought
you a whore. Can we be friends?

Lancelot clenched his jaw until the bones cracked; his head
began to pound and he ran suddenly weirdly shaking fingers
through his wet hair. He rubbed at his bare forehead and
angrily tried to force the pounding in his skull to subside.
That only made it worse. He looked at Arthur again - did the
man truly have the strength or the desire to listen - and
should Lancelot even say a damn word?

"I...great gods teeth," he sighed, leaning forward a bit on
his stool. He was chilled, and for some reason being closer to
the furs on Arthur's bed seemed to help. Yes, that was it.
"For some reason I cannot begin to fathom, my mind is awhirl.
Normally I'm quite ready to pick up the regular stuff after a
battle - you know, eating, training, fucking," he smirked
quickly. "But...ah, it's not important, Arthur. What is
important is seeing to the others, and making sure your wound
is healed - and soon." He rose and stood next to where Arthur
sat on the bed; his arms crossed, his wound pinching from the
action. He licked at his lips and tried to remain ambiguous.
"I do offer apologies for being too - hasty with my anger at
the Optio, earlier...although I will not apologize for the
thought behind it.... has anyone checked your sutures?"

Anything. Anything to not tell him the truth. Not yet. Not
until I've had a chance to think...and who knows if he's
willing to really listen - he did throw me out. Threw me away
from him, away from that part of us, and I don't know, for
fuck's sake, what I even want any more.

The face of Isolde flashed into Lancelot's mind, her horror at
what he had tried to do - his own surprise - his night alone
after he'd shoved her out of his quarters. The tears he'd
sworn to never cry again.

Looking into the Roman's tired but kind green eyes, Lancelot's
chest ached suddenly in a fierce knot of loss - he swallowed
again, and his eyes burned. He had chosen to live in this life
- to not be consciously killed by Woads or butchered by
Romans. Those that had touched him before - they were no more
trouble - and they weren't Arthur. Lancelot blinked heavily,
his eyes red and his vision not so clear. He leaned over
Arthur a bit, as if to straighten the coverings on the bed,
and he wavered again, almost tripping over some random piece
of clothing that had fallen under the edge of the bed. He
laughed - too loudly.

"I need wine. And plenty of it."
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golden_trillium

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Author: lady ione
Date: Sat Jun 07, 2008 8:11 pm
Brendyn


Despite the gagging smells and odd assortment that came to use
the facitities, Brendyn still tried not to complain. Sure, he
could handle the work okay, and he felt humbled at the thought
that he was a warrior for Rome who sometimes left his temper
and his mouth get in the way of his learning....and there was
still much for him to learn. So, far, from what he judged of
Antonius's training....all he was taught to do was hate the
enemy so that it was easier to kill them, but he had also
learned skills that made him a good fighter. He slightly
laughed to himself upon thinking of what Arthur would think of
his new transfer from Aesica. No doubt, he'd not be
impressed....

Brendyn moved to get fresh water for the buckets, all the
while berating himself. Antonius had always told him that he
was one of the best....somehow perhaps Antonius was mistaken
greatly, for if he was the best, he'd not be here cleaning the
latrines. In that time also, he thought of Titrus and Malcus.
They had placed their confidence in him, and he had blown it.
Brendyn at least hoped that he'd get to retrain in some areas
and better his skills...One of his favorite areas at Aesica
had been the training area as there had been a target he could
practice throwing his lance, but also trying out the whip and
his sword...

Perhaps when this "tour of duty" was done, he could find time
to train and hone his skills...but also get some sleep.
Brendyn was hungry, but after cleaning the latrines, he just
did not care to eat. He and the other servant continued their
jobs, though niether really could begin to guess even what
time it was...
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golden_trillium

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Author: sabor ice
Date: Sat Jun 07, 2008 11:00 pm
Mordred


Mordred gave a non-committal nod at Amadeus' instructions,
turning back to his task. He scooped up a gauntlet and caught
a glimmer of reflection off its flared cuff. His lips formed a
tight line as he gazed into the distorted image of himself -
only it wasn't his eyes looking back at him - the eyes were
emerald. Arthur's eyes. Uther's eyes. Staring.

The knight slammed the piece against the tabletop, his palm
mashed atop of it, crushing it. Every tendon in his arm
strained against his skin; his jaw squared and his teeth
audibly ground together. His dark eyes were fiery with rage.
Distant.

A few moments passed and Mordred snorted derisively, donning
the last piece of armor and his cloak before turning on his
heel to exit his room. He made haste down the corridor and
through the rain, his strides long and purposeful. Once the
stables were in sight, his pace slowed. He squared off his
shoulders and raised an arrogant chin as he entered. Amadeus
was saddled and waiting. He side-glanced Tristan and Malcus
but initially ignored the Woad.

"Gentlemen," Mordred acknowledged pleasantly, his smile
crooked.

He waited patiently, positively glowing with elation. A stable
boy brought him Lucifer, and the knight expertly mounted the
midnight-colored steed, settling in the saddle with a kind of
noble arch to his back. He cast a glance toward Amadeus when
he inquired to the other two men about the other Woad, and
Mordred had to keep himself from barking a laugh. Such a
leading question... He had left the little bitch man-handled
and damaged in the dungeons which seemed proper, but who knew
where she was now... If Malcus had been involved then no doubt
his compassionate tart of a lap-dog Titrus had been, too - he
probably had scooped up the little brat and brought her home
to coddle. Mordred's dark gaze swiveled from the Optio to
Tristan and Malcus, his features apathetic as he waited.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Kay
Date: Sun Jun 08, 2008 3:38 am
Guinevere


Guinevere crouched down with Mona in a shadowy archway
opposite the stables.

Mona
 
“This is a good place to wait,”


Mona offered her water flask to Guinevere who shook her head
in irritation. She didn't wish to be distracted by anything;
she kept her eyes firmly fixed on the stables.

"We have to be quiet" she said, softly, urging Mona to speak
in whispers. It would be hard to explain what they were doing
should they be discovered.

Guinevere strained to listen; she could hear raised voices
coming from the stables but could not make out what was being
said. Suddenly, the Woad princess stood up in alarm, her hand
reaching for her sword. A scream had come from the stables.

"That was Neeria" she said. "What are they doing to her?"

To rush the building now would be suicide for the two woman.
There was little choice but to wait here until the soldiers
emerged from the building. Guinevere's hands dropped to her
side and she clutched at the fabric of her cloak in
frustration.

She turned to Mona and sighed "We can't do anything for her at
the moment. We just have to wait"
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golden_trillium

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Author: Elessars Girl
Date: Sun Jun 08, 2008 9:20 am

Arthur


Lancelot met Arthur’s assessing gaze head on, yet his nearly
black eyes gave away nothing as to what might be troubling the
knight. But there had been a small smile, genuine while
fleeting…..yet still no reassurance that what troubled
Lancelot was to be dismissed. Arthur retreated from where he’d
touched Lancelot’s knee as the other man answered; his hand
coming to rest on top of the furs still within reach if need
be.

Lancelot
 
"I would hear what the Optio and you discussed."


Arthur frowned. And he remained silent while carefully
regarding Lancelot’s fidgeting seeking the true source of what
the Sarmatian was struggling to conceal. Arthur knew Lancelot
had no real cares about the Optio and certainly cared even
less for the politics of making treaty with Merlin; for the
Commander that had been the focus of his brief meeting with
Scipio earlier. But Arthur knew he should to speak with
Lancelot about some sort of punishment, or at the very least
something would need to be arranged so that the Optio upon his
return might be made to feel vindicated. It was not in
Arthur’s nature to deceive a fellow Roman officer….but in this
instance; he would do it to protect Lancelot…or any other of
his knights when he felt it necessary. Scipio was a newly
assigned officer and would learn in time the value and loyalty
of the Sarmatian knights.

Lancelot
 
"I...great gods teeth…..For some reason I cannot begin
to fathom, my mind is awhirl. Normally I'm quite ready
to pick up the regular stuff after a battle - you know,
eating, training, fucking, but...ah, it's not important,
Arthur. What is important is seeing to the others, and
making sure your wound is healed - and soon. I do offer
apologies for being too - hasty with my anger at the
Optio, earlier...although I will not apologize for the
thought behind it.... has anyone checked your sutures?"


’Fucking’…yes, something you do quite well, my friend. Arthur
thought darkly and not to the Sarmatian’s skills as a lover.
But he quickly shoved the thought aside as that part of their
distinctive bond was broken…pushed away into the darkness of
the past. And although Arthur’s fingers flexed over his line
of stitches, he consciously ignored Lancelot’s question in
regards to them. He was far too focused on Lancelot’s body
language sensing something dark and even painful in the other
man’s movements. Had Lancelot’s wound re-opened causing the
knight pain?

Lancelot appeared to falter as he leaned over the bed. And
that was proof enough for Arthur that his lieutenant and
closest friend required rest….now… and not further discussions
on anything and everything besides what seemed to plague
Lancelot’s thoughts. He reached up to steady Lancelot,
grasping at the loose fitting leathers around the other man’s
hip in time with Lancelot’s next words.

Lancelot
 
"I need wine. And plenty of it."


“You need rest,” Arthur sternly voiced his concern and
tightened his single handed grip on Lancelot’s waist. Rest,
not drink or any other of your chosen vices.

“I want you to swear to me….” Arthur attempted to lean closer
as he spoke, but grimaced as his stitches pulled in the
movement. His grip tightened on Lancelot in reflex and perhaps
to steady himself as much as the Sarmatian. Arthur exhaled and
willed the twinge of pain to pass…at least long enough to say
what he must to Lancelot. Arthur had half a mind to order his
lieutenant to lay down beside him before he fell down, but
quickly thought better of that notion. Better they spend no
more time laying together even in rest.

“….swear that you will go to your bed now and rest. I want
your word that you will not do anything foolish. I need you
here, Lancelot, and I need you recovered. We will discuss the
Optio and his requests regarding you later tonight,” Arthur
said voice thick with concern and genuine care. Lancelot’s
close proximity seemed to weaken Arthur’s resolve and the fact
that his former lover was soaking wet, obviously cold,
exhausted and in some sort of pain only tugged at Arthur’s
heart that much harder. He did still love Lancelot after all.
But that love must no longer be anything beyond brotherhood.
Or so Arthur worked hard to convince himself….quite difficult
at the moment. Green eyes searched for some glimmer of
‘something’ in Lancelot’s dark eyes.

Purgatory. Will I always feel the scorch of his gaze and long
for the burning union we once shared? I know what is right and
just and what God’s choice would be for me, yet I want…..what
I must not take. Not any longer.
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