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| June 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 23 2010, 07:18 PM (3,705 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | Mar 27 2010, 06:11 PM Post #76 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Sun Jun 08, 2008 9:39 am Adian
'Aye, they are indeed, lass,' Adian looked at her and returned the smile. Tatiana had a nice figure, and he couldn't help but wonder what she looked like in a "situation". The hunter/ carpenter did need to take a bath...but with Tatiana in front of him, he could not help but have other thoughts as well. To him, there were some situations that were pleasurable, and stimulated feelings, while others were...well beyond description. Silently, he asked Thorn to forgive him for the wicked thoughts...and it was as though he could hear her coaxing him into releasing her and to move on with his life... "No, one cannot have too many friends, Tatiana," Adian offered an even more charming smile, though still inwardly grieving. He had to face the fact that Thorn was gone. Tatiana had almost that same free spirit attitude that Thorn had had. Adian took Tatiana's hand and led her into the herb garden that was surrounded by a waist high stone wall. It was late winter, but already he could see signs of new growth on some of the heartier herbs. Still cold though. The young man moved over to a stone bench, and sat down patting the seat next to him indicating a place for her to sit. His heather gray eyes studied hers then moved to her lips wondering how his would fit over hers...imagining the softness of them.
How long? Adian sighed with a wistful look on his face. "I have been a carpenter for as long as I was a farmer. My father was a great carpenter, and could make almost anything he set his mind to...taught me everything I know...even about farming." Reaching next to him, He plucked a new sprig of flowering thyme and handed it to Tatiana. Adian had always loved the smells of earthy herbs and heather that grew on the moors....and Tatiana had that earthy air about her. While he talked, his thoughts moved to Fiona hoping that she would not worry and would come to seek him in case she wanted him for anything. "So I have been doing bits of carpentry work here abouts at this fort..."
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| golden_trillium | Mar 27 2010, 06:12 PM Post #77 |
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Author: Starbelle Date: Sun Jun 08, 2008 12:41 pm Tatiana Feeling his bigger hand grasp her tiny one and lead them deeper into the garden where he sat down on a bench and patted the seat next to him where she sat down next to him just listening to him talk as he had a unique accent. Seeing his heather grey eyes study her face, brought another soft blush to her cheeks. Reaching out, she took the sprig of thyme and brought it to her nose, inhaling the scent of the plant.
"You sound very skilled and talented, Adian." Tatiana replied impressed with what she heard about his past. Hearing his laughter, she grinned happily in response, and decided to tell him a bit of her own past. "When I was a bit younger, I was quite the imp with the jokes and pranks in my village. It was all done in fun and just for laughs. She said. "I don't do that kind of thing now, but then.." "How much ale should a horse get or be given? Is it possible for a horse to get drunk on ale?" She queried glancing at him curiously, when she saw him return to the bench with a grey cat.
"Aww..poor thing, he's soaked." Hi Llawen" Tatiana said introducing herself to wet cat then petting the animal's fur. "I think that we'd best head inside out of this rain." She said leading them from the gardens and inside the smithy. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 27 2010, 06:13 PM Post #78 |
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Author: Unicorn Date: Sun Jun 08, 2008 2:15 pm Dagonet
Dagonet nodded silently and slowly, his face emotionless. He would speak with Lancelot and again would have to hide his true emotions. He had to wear a mask before his brothers for now. He had to show them he could be still strong although the pain he felt. He would not smile, he would not joke, he would not be himself from the moment he learnt about Gedeon's death. He will not be the same man... But he will keep going... He will stay strong. He had to. For them, for Saoirse... He had to try.
Jols laughed for a longer while... but Dagonet's smirk left his face after a moment and he closed his eyes briefly. He still felt very tired. His body was exhausted from the blood lost and the long road back home, from emotional meeting with Linnette.... from his sorrow. He felt so tired. Once Jols had spoken he looked at the man, but his face was again stern. Smile.... He had to fight with himself to only smile.... When would he be able to laugh? When he would fight enough to break trought his own pain? What would make him happy enough to laugh? When would he stop crying? When the pain will stop? He wanted to smile at Jols once more, but only a very wry and painful, weak smirk appeared on his lips. He closed slowly his eyes and swallowed with difficulty. "I promise to smile more often when I get out of here..." he said but in truth he lied... how could he try to smile when Gedeon was lost? How to find strenghts to do so. "I am begining to feel tied up to this bed...." it was the second time in the infirmary. Was it because he was growing older? He was going to be grandfather soon... Linnette was with child. Now it was Dagonet who had to take care for her. Was he so old to loose his stamina in battles already? He hoped it was not the answer. If so... would Saoirse still want him...? |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 27 2010, 06:16 PM Post #79 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Sun Jun 08, 2008 3:04 pm Mari Mari could not remember a time when she had not been made safe by being tucked up inside Milan's coat. Was it really only days that she knew him? Was it truly only one day since she raelised how she felt about him? How was that possible when the past beyond Milan seemed so, so far away? What had happened in all that time before meeting him? Oh she remembered that there had been Rafe.... and with the thought of him she found herself wondering after his health and sanity. She didn't stop feeling somethign for the older male just because she had fallen so deeply for Milan, that was not her nature. Mari just knew that what she felt for Rafe was not the same thing as what she felt for Milan. It came from somewhere else inside of her, she thought.
The young woman looked up at Milan with wide, innocent brown eyes, beseeching him to tell her what he was thinking. She just wanted to understand him a little more, to make certain that what she thought he was thinking was ... real. The initial sound from deep in his throat made Mari cock her head to the side, wondering if he knew how to say what it was he was thinking. She allowed her lips to part, framing the word as his lips did but she did not speak out, just kept a watch on his mouth. When the words were out she didn't know how to react. She blinked at hiim, his chin tucked to his neck so that he looked straight into her eyes. It was such a simple statement, order, request but was that it? Was that all that was on his mind? Had he thought she was in danger with that man in the rain? Mari gave a half smile, reassuring, and started to shake her head, about to dismiss the dangers until she thought about it. Her healthily blushing cheeks turned pale, her eyes looked gaunt and too big in her suddenly fearful face as she realised, as she understood what might have happened her out there in the cold with another stranger. She felt incredibly foolish now, incredibly silly it was unbearable. Her eyes shut and her body shook. "Oh... oh I didn't ... " Mari swallowed roughly and gently extricated herself from Milan's warm embrace. She turned away from him, frowning down at her bare toes only a few feet in front of him, her head bowed. The hand that was holding the towel up was now a claw, gripping it tightly as if her very life depended on it. Mari glanced over her shoulder at Milan but looked away quicky, embarrassed. She took antoher two steps away and sniffed. "I didn't think about it like that. I didn't realise but you're right. He could have ... It could have been bad." the young woman murmured with an almost apologetic tone to her shaky voice. Sighing, Mari felt tears spring to her eyes - all the fear and worries about the night of her attack coming back to her. The suspicion, the fear that anyone might be out to hurt her for no reason whatsoever. Suddenly Mari missed the comforting familiarity of Rafe, of Adrianna and Kolya. She wished she could be in a room with the four of them again, Milan included, and just be the way she was before. With none of this hurtful fear looming. "You don't think he was dangerous.... do you?" Mari asked, turning her head to the side, her cheek against her shoulder, her voice very quiet, very unsure. Saoirse Gorgeous... right. Saoirse was led forward, or escorted forward more accurately, by Lucius. She saw Dagonet in bed before he saw her and she felt her heart lurch into her throat. It took all her strength, and the knowledge that Lucius was back there ready to prod her forward, not to turn around and run away again. It wasn't that she didn't want to be with him, near him, loving him - it was just the fear of being to him, for him, what he really needed now. She wasn't sure she could be the strong, stable woman that Dagonet needed. The red head took a deep breath and held it, her blue eyes flickering to Jols and then to Dagonet, immediately defensive. Was the squire keeping him awake, was he keeping him from resting and healing? The Irish woman glanced over her shoulder at Lucius and then straightened her shoulders, sniffed. She wiped the palm of her hand across her face and back into her hair, organising herself miserably before reaching the bed. "Yer not sneakin' him in anythin' he's not meant t'be havin' are ye Jols?" Saoirse asked as she walked to the other side of the bed opposite the Squire, not looking at him but rather looking down at Dagonet instead, her hand automatically seeking his on the side of the bed. Oh she knew she looked a mess, the obvious signs of her upset visible in the redness around her blue eyes, the pale pallour to her cheeks and the shimmering tear drop that lingered on her jaw. Saoirse looked down at Dagonet, at the uncomfortable set of his unnaturally broad shoulders. He was restless, itching to be out of this place. But he was not ready yet, not ready by half. The wound on his side was not a small thing - the recollection of his wound seemed to be a signal for the one on her own thigh to give a protesting throb, reminding Saoirse that she aught to get it looked at at some point. "Hey there.... sorry I was gone fer s'long. Had a few ... bits t'see t'..." she apologised quietly to Dagonet, hitching up one leg to lay it on the bed next to him, half sitting, half standing by his side where she knew she was meant to be but where she felt entirely unworth to be. Galahad Galahad made short work of the splintered edge of the table - creating a small mountain of splinters on the ground by his feet in no time. He was uncomfortable admitting what he just had. He imagined it was just as uncomfortable for Gawain to have admitted what he had about Brianna... on some unselfish, not quite conscious level, Galahad hoped that knowing about Alina might bring some comfort to his brother-in-arms. A demonstration that all women were poison... ? Deep down though, Galahad was hoping that Gawain, the older of them though only by a few years, could fix this.
The curly haired Knight listened attentively to the blonde's advice. He sighed, nodding his head as he was told what they both knew - that there were good women and bad. He frowned, wondering if that was in fact really true. So far women had proven pretty bad for the Knights of Sarmatia... He parted his lips to speak his mind but snapped them shut again, sighing as he downed the last of his ale, taking a sip out of the new one with a greatful nod to Gawain for ordering more. When Gawain started talking about fighting for Alina there was a surge of ... something isnide of Galahad. A surge of male pride, perhaps, a determination to show this son of a bitch who was boss, to prove to himself, to Alina and to everyone that he was the better man. His pale brow furrowed and his shoudlers pulled back, his posture became more erect and he nodded his head stiffly. "Yeah -- yeah!" he declared, slamming his hand onto the table and then pointing a finger at the blonde knight, lips parted, again, to speak. But his troubled blue eyes looked all about Gawain's face and he seemed to lose whatever spark it was that had briefly ignited. His shoulders sagged and he sighed, elbow banging onto the table, his pointing finger drooping miserably. "But ... are any of them worth that? I mean... really, are they? Look at Brianna, Gawain. Saoirse - she pissed off with Dagonet's kid for the love of the gods! Oh Bors says he's happy but we all know he is so far under Vanora's thumb that if she told him to stop breathing he probably would! Maybe Lancelot has it right, ya know? Just fuck anything and everything without attachments." Galahad said, but his heart wasn't in it, his tone rather petulant as he took another long, long, noisy draught of beer. He gave a gentle belch against the back of his hand before continuing. "What about you then? You going to go into the jungles of Britain looking for Brianna?" the Knight asked, his voice a little slurred as the alcohol hit his system on an empty stomach. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 27 2010, 06:18 PM Post #80 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Sun Jun 08, 2008 4:18 pm Derfel The young knight had been industriously searching around the infirmary for Saoirse when one of the older nuns had stopped him in regards to Linnesse. Derfel had attempted to keep the inquisition brief, but the woman had been down right insistent in knowing how his lover faired…and Derfel was by far too kind and polite to simply walk away. But while explaining that Linnesse was sleeping right now and seemed quite settled when he’d left her, guilt at being away from her for too long played on Derfel’s conscious. Surely his love was sound asleep in their tiny room and would not miss him while he saw to a few things…right? Besides, he’d promised Lucius a drink or three in the tavern for the kind man’s help earlier. And Derfel could also pick up some food for Linnesse while there. Or so he reasoned away while the nun thanked him for his time and finally let go of Derfel’s arm. Blowing out a breath in mild frustration, Derfel turned away from the woman and continued his fruitless search for Saoirse. Giving up at last, the knight headed back towards the main room where Dagonet and Bors were hopefully resting. And as he approached, there she was at Dagonet’s side already…and Lucius standing a respectful distance to the side. Good; the kind soldier had been quite helpful twice already today. Derfel walked over to join Lucius, giving the soldier a grateful nod and then turned his full attentions on the red head and the other two knights. Jols was also present, no doubt checking on the men per Arthur’s orders or so Derfel assumed. At a little further scrutiny of Saoirse’s slightly slumped posture and pale expression….he could see soreness rimming her typically shimmering blue eyes as if she’d been crying recently. Surely Lucius had been kind to her when he’d located her. So what could have the lass upset? Dagonet was well out of danger, again the knight assumed as much. Derfel crossed his arms over his chest and waited patiently while the others conversed. He offered a reassuring expression to Dagonet, Bors and also to Jols even though he had no idea what was being discussed. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 27 2010, 06:19 PM Post #81 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Sun Jun 08, 2008 4:27 pm Drake Drake knew he wasn't rushing and yet he still trudged through the rain, with saddlebags slung over his shoulders, hood hanging down his back, as he dashed through the rainy courtyard to the fortress. His expression was severe, sending message boys scurrying in his wake as he stalked to his new quarters, kicked open the door and unceremoniously dumped them on the ground. He was just about to stalk out of the room when he heard, as if she were right there, Linnette telling him to take his time. The Spaniard stopped, his foot in the air and held his breath, narrowing his green eyes on the door. He huffed out a breath and turned, eyeballing the saddlebags. He looked down at the sad looking battered armour he had been wearing for the past few days and scratched his jaw. "If you say so..." he murmured, pulling off his cloak and tugging the laces on the side of the cuirass until it was loose enough to pull over his head. The tunic followed, Drake grimacing at the dank smell of it from sweat and rain as he flung it onto the bed. His hard, strong, soldier's physique looked sorry. There were bruises in random places from fighthing the woads and a criss-cross pattern of scars about his upper arms. The tattoos on his chest and upper arm stood out stark against his skin. Drake looked down at the dragon's head on his chest, his expression pensive as he rubbed his index finger across the design. Shrugging, Drake pulled out an old sandy colored tunic. He pulled it on over his head and was about to belt it when he saw there was quite a large and obvious hole in the armpit. Scoffing in mild amusement, Drake pulled the tunic off and tossed it onto the bed, opting for the midnight blue tunic which had a tear in the collar, moth-eaten ends to the sleeves but at least had full armpits. Drake then belted it up, slid his gladius back into place and swirled his cloak about his shoulders. He ducked over a wash basin momentarily, washed his face and used his sleeve to dry it as he walked out into the corridor. Enough time wasted. Drake wasn't sure how he would find out about Linnette's new room so he started to walk. After a few minutes his hand lashed out and grabbed a messenger boy by the collar. Drake asked about the room arrangements and was informed that there were hardly any rooms left. There had been no arrangments made by the Optio to give Linnette a decent room which had Drake somewhat livid. The boy, Arland, brought Drake down a familiar corridor, the man's heart beginning to sink as he realised this was the same corridor that his room was on. "This is a two roomer, Sir. Optio won't let me put one woman in a two-roomer so unless she can figure something else out with someone else then she's gonna have to find somewhere else to lay her head.." Arland said apologetically. Drake scowled. He nodded his head and gestured for the boy to be gone. Surly, Drake mooched back towards the tavern, forgetting his hood again. The cold rain water slicked down the back of his neck, making him shiver but his mood was too grim for him to really notice such a discomfort. Pushing open the door of the tavern, the Spaniard felt a surge of relief to see Linnette still isitting at the bar. It was strange how the sight of her made him feel like things were as they were meant to be, things felt... right. Drake walked up to the bar and promptly dropped himself down into the stool next to Linnette, elbows on teh bar, shoulders hunched, head bowed, hands clasped. He grimaced, eye twitching. He tilted his head to the side, looking at Linnette's face and then into the bowl of stew. There was an odd look to her hazel eyes that Drake could not place. His brow unfurrowed however, his eyes cleared and he gave her a small smile, pleased that she had devoured that bowl of stew too. "Might have another myself while I'm here." he said in a husky tone of voice, the sound rumbling quietly between them like an oversized bumble bee. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 27 2010, 06:20 PM Post #82 |
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Author: Starbelle Date: Sun Jun 08, 2008 4:39 pm Jols
"Don't rush things, Dags. The happiness'll come when you're ready for it too." The Squire said in a serious tone of voice. "I know that I've never personally gone through what you're going through, now, and have nothing to really compare this too, but things will get better soon, you'll see." He said with a gentle smile.
"No, Milady. I would never do that to him." The Squire replied in a respectful, yet polite tone of voice as he nodded in Saorise's direction. "I'm just visiting with my brother and keeping him company. Since you're here, Lady, I know that he'll be in good hands, and I'll let you two talk as I've got things to take care of." The Squire replied polietly, squeezing Dagonet's shoulder before getting up from the bench that he'd been sitting on and heading towards the infirmary door to return to his tasks. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 27 2010, 06:22 PM Post #83 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Sun Jun 08, 2008 5:44 pm Linnette
And suddenly her pleasant fantasy was intruded upon. Linnette had been looking downward, scraping the last bite of stew from her bowl and mulling over her thoughts, and had not seen Drake approach. The first hint she had of the presence of someone else was the voice- the low, gruff voice that was absolutely not Gedeon's- emanating from the place where her mind had been conjuring an image of Gedeon. She started and looked up, then blinked disorientedly as the first impression she got was dark blue, a dark blue tunic, just like the one she had imagined Gedeon to be wearing! What in the...it was only then that her mind wrapped itself around the true situation- it was Drake, come back from putting his things away, and he had changed clothes, too. Into dark blue, by some incredible coincidence. Linnette's mouth opened slightly of its own accord and she studied Drake for a second, on the point of saying something, though even she did not know what. Ask him not to sit there? Tell him that that stool was already occupied? But...the picture of Gedeon, which had been so vivid as to be almost real a moment ago, had faded abruptly, replaced by reality instead. Of course Gedeon wasn't sitting there. That was mere fancy. But Drake was there, and he...he wanted some more stew? "Er...I'll get you some." She stood hurriedly, almost clumsily, still staring at him, and aware she was doing it, but still not able to completely reconcile the clash of reality and fantasy that had just occurred. She fancied she could see a protest half-forming on his lips, though, an extortion that she needed not serve him herself, and she quickly and awkwardly grabbed for her own bowl, the spoon clattering around it it and nearly falling before she steadied it with her other hand. "I was going to take my bowl back anyway...I'll only be a moment." She blurted the words out and nearly ran for the archway to the kitchen, but in only a couple of steps she was there, and already she was telling herself to slow down and get a grip on herself, quit being silly. Drake would think he had done something wrong if she kept staring at him like that...and he hadn't, not at all. He had, quite simply, done everything right for her this day. Remembering now the careful, thorough job he had done cleaning her hands, the way he had put his arm around her and comforted her on the battlement, Linnette dumped her own bowl and spoon in the basin, then went to the hearth and scooped up a generous bowl of the stew for Drake. What way was there to make a bowl of stew special? None, that she could think of, even after turning around twice on the spot and looking at everything in the kitchen- so she finally settled on just bringing out some bread, too, even though he had not asked for it. A nice, big chunk, with butter. "Here," she murmurred a moment later, sliding back onto the stool and pushing stew bowl and plate of buttered bread down the bar to Drake. The midnight blue color still disconcerted her a little, but she forced herself to look at it rather than away, the better to process it and see it as it was. And Drake's tunic was not like the one she had been picturing on Gedeon at all. Gedeon's dark blue tunic had been his good one- this one that Drake was wearing was a sorry thing indeed, ripped at the collar and with the cuffs so ragged they didn't even quite cover his wristbones as they should. Drake always seemed to dress like that, Linnette realized- like no one cared for him, like he had no reason at all to look even slightly nice. Though come to think of it, dark blue was a very nice color on him, too- though it would have been nicer if the garment in question had not been worn nearly to a rag. "So...what did you find out?" she asked, turning her mind away from pointless sartorial contemplations and back onto the matter at hand- Drake had said he would inquire about quarters for her. Linnesse Linnesse opened her eyes. She had slept a while, by the looks of things; though it seemed to still be cloudy outside, with sounds of dripping water coming in through the window, the light had changed sufficiently that she was pretty sure she had slept for a couple of hours, at least- by her best guess, it was around midafternoon now. She felt rejuvenated, her exhaustion gone, and once again, extremely hungry! She should still probably take it easy- she reminded herself of that- but even given that, her first thought after noting that the room was empty of all but herself was to go to the tavern for a bite to eat. Breakfast had been a long time ago! She slipped out of the bed, stood and stretched luxuriously, then dressed herself carefully in her warmest dress, shoes, and cloak. She had overdone things this morning, and she had no wish to repeat that- Linnette and Derfel both needed her, needed her as healthy as possible! With health still in mind, she drank down a full cup of water before leaving the room, then went out into the corridor. And how was Linnette faring? A short detour by her room showed that she was not there, nor was anything visibly changed in position since she had been there earlier helping her sister change clothes. Well, at least the tavern seemed like the likeliest place to find Linnette as well as to get something to eat- though Linnesse very much hoped her sister wasn't working too hard. She needed to relax for a while, not worry about things. Well, if Linnesse found her sister working, she would do everything she could to encourage a bit of a rest. Pulling her cloak firmly around her, Linnesse headed determinedly- though not too quickly- towards the exit from the knights' quarters, the twin goals of food and sisterly company foremost in her mind. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 27 2010, 06:23 PM Post #84 |
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Author: linnet Date: Sun Jun 08, 2008 8:38 pm Gawain
For a moment Gawain thought that he’d stoked a badly needed fire in his friend. In fact, when Galahad emphasized his enthusiasm by pounding his fist on the table, Gawain worried that the fire was flaring a little more intensely than he’d intended. There was deliberately effective planned action, and there was hot-headed impetuous Galahad action. Gawain thought he would have to dump a little calming water on the younger man’s chest-thumping bravado, just to get him to think clearly before acting. But that wasn’t needed, as the dark-haired knight quickly deflated, the fire sputtering out.
Gawain let out a quiet snort at the mention of Lancelot having it right. If the First Knight had it right, then humans were in for a miserable existence. Lancelot, however, wasn’t the point of this conversation. Galahad was bitter and hurt, and Gawain felt compelled as always to make him feel better. But he wasn’t going to do it by agreeing that no woman is worth the trouble, and that fucking without attachments is a good thing. “Hell, Galahad, I don’t know about Alina. You have to decide if she’s worth it to you,” the blond knight said, watching his brother making quick use of much of the second tankard of ale. “I believe there are plenty of women worth whatever it takes to win their hearts. And fucking is great, but it’s that heart thing that really counts. The feelings you get just being with someone who’s special to you.” He laughed softly and shook his head, looking slightly embarrassed. “That probably sounds crazy.” Then Gawain fell silent. Nothing he’d said was likely to help Galahad. At best, he’d gotten his friend to think about what he wanted with Alina. At worst, he’d only depressed him more.
The question was slurred just enough for Gawain to once more signal the serving girl. “Two of whatever you have to eat that’s warm and filling,” he instructed her. Gawain fished around in his coin pouch to make sure he had enough left for the food, and found that he was fine. Then he turned his attention back to his fellow knight. “No, I’m not going to look for her,” he replied, surprising himself with how certain it sounded. “Truth is, the whole time we were away, I can count on two fingers how often I thought about her. Brianna’s right. I wasn’t ready for that commitment. “ Damn, he felt sickeningly guilty about it, especially because of the baby. But he couldn’t deny it any longer. He would have done his best. But what kind of real commitment would it have been when here he was, trying to avoid glancing at another woman: A bright woman who had stirred some strange feelings in him. “How often did you think about Alina when we were on the mission?” he asked Galahad. Gawain still hoped to at least bring the young knight to the point where he knew if he cared enough about his lover to do something other than brood. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 27 2010, 06:27 PM Post #85 |
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Author: sabor ice Date: Mon Jun 09, 2008 12:23 am Cáel
"Quite right, quite right..." Cáel concurred. Money indeed had a way of providing opportunities and earning advantage points. It was persuasive - seductive to those who were ignorant to its power of manipulation. But, Cáel was not one to be weaved into such a tangled web of greed - oh no - he believed he was far too crafty with his bearings. He understood the way of the world. He was conscious of his actions. A wealthy man could be untouchable, invincible. Cáel would've bartered his very soul to the Devil in order to obtain all of the glories and riches he desired. He was not seduced by greed - he was the seducer.
The Goth broke from his thoughts and watched tentatively as the woman stood and adjusted herself properly. He cocked his head and smiled wryly. She appeared ready to follow him, and yet she asked such a silly question? He had already invited her along, had he not? Still, perhaps it would've been best if he went alone. Without an audience, he could be himself and not have to constantly look over his shoulder at her to gage her reaction for realism. He was not a performing baboon, just a man on a mission. The Goth was an exceptionally patient man on the surface, but he was not so tolerant when things did not go according to plan. Better not to get too deeply involved with the locals, he decided. After all, he did not even know what to expect once he did find Gabriel's family. "Open invitation, of course," Cáel mused, his smile genuine, charming. "I wouldn't want to keep you from your affairs of the day either. Another time, then?" Cassidy After Catherine left, Cassidy had stared at the soiled purple dress for a long time. Fleur had been content jabbering away to herself, completely oblivious to the conflicting emotions that had crossed her sister's features. Pain. Confusion. Emptiness. Destitution. Mostly though, Cassidy was upset with herself. She didn't understand why she had snapped at Catherine or why she had wrongfully ruined the woman's gift. At the time, Cassidy had thought it was in her right to do so. Her angry defiance was her only defense mechanism, her only escape to channel her emotions to the outside world. Following reflection, Cassidy was now mortified at what she had done - mortified, but not necessarily sorry. She sniffed and reached out to hook a finger into the purple dress, dragging it to lay over her lap. She had dumped the chunks of cold stew back into the bowl, but the stain left in the material was massive and setting at an astronomical pace. The blonde had absolutely no idea how to wash it out, and she was too stubborn to ask someone. Instead she toted the garment with her off the bed, scooping up the make-do pillowcase dress thingy Fleur had been wearing in passing, and went to the nearest water basin. She smoothed the new dress out on the floor and carefully set the basin beside it, before crossing her legs at the ankles and sitting herself in front of her new project. She wet the pillowcase sack and diligently began using it to scrub at the soup stain. Naturally, this only increased the mark in size. Cassidy frowned and quickly abandoned this method of cleaning the dress. Then, an idea came to her - what if she dried it? That would certainly make things better, wouldn't it? She huffed out a hopeless sigh, resting her chin against her fist as she studied her 'brilliant' handiwork. Ultimately, she decided to wear the dress 'as is.' She ventured back to the bed and lay down the garment. Her hands lifted to the ties on her current outfit and froze there as she cast a self-conscious glance about the room. Her arms folded inward to nestle against her chest, suddenly feeling foolishly exposed with the lack of privacy. She was nearly thirteen after all - the last thing she wanted was for people to be staring at her, boys especially! Turning toward the bed, she whipped back the covers and disappeared under them, purple dress and all. It took a few frustrating minutes of clever maneuvering to strip off her old gown to don on the new one, but finally she managed. For any onlookers, it might've looked like two cats wrestling under the blankets until Cassidy finally resurfaced and tossed her old garment onto the floor. Her blonde hair was disheveled into a rat's nest atop her head by now, but oddly enough, the girl appeared mildly accomplished. Fleur Fleur was like a spring. You could hold her down with the tip of your thumb, but the moment she was released, she'd just bounce right back again. She was like one's own personal sun, brightening even the most dreary of days with a laugh or a smile. If her liveliness could've been captured and pocketed, no one would ever feel pain or fear - they'd just feel free. She ventured over to a window, folding her arms one over the other on the sill and standing on her tippy-toes as she stared wondrously outside. After a few moments, she skipped off to another window and repeated the process. She stretched her little form to reach for the window, her tiny pointer finger tracing the droplets of moisture building on the glass there. Her prints left awful streaks behind as her short attention span once again expired and she toddled off, gnawing obnoxiously on the sleeve of her new green dress, her doll hanging limply from the crook of her elbow. Fleur noticed a bunch of people huddled around someone's (Dagonet’s) bed. She curiously cast a glance toward them as she passed. She halted in mid-skip, turning on her heel, and deliberately sauntered slowly back toward them, her innocent blue eyes never leaving the group. She hummed loudly. There was nothing inconspicuous about the little girl. Fleur may not have yet spoken up nor shoved her way between the people to see what the fuss was all about, but she sure as Hell was still making sure they knew she was there. Milan
That was not everything Milan wanted to say, not even close. Those two little words had been a pathetic cop-out, a humiliating reminder of his communicative incapabilities. There was so much Milan wanted to say to Mari, so much he wanted to ask her and to tell her. He wanted to hold a verbal conversation with her. He wanted her to be able to understand everything he was feeling, especially about her. Well...maybe not that; he blushed. All of these thoughts were swimming around, relentlessly battering around inside of his head, trying to hopelessly break free. She turned away from him and began to sniffle. He took a step after her, hand outstretched to touch her shoulder for reassurance, but it recoiled and dropped uselessly back down to his side. Milan looked utterly deflated and shrunk back meekly, stuffing his hands into his pockets and dropping his blue gaze to the floor. He knew she was upset again because of him, and he felt worthless not knowing how to fix this. He heaved out a deep sigh and shrugged his shoulders up to his ears, shaking his head to himself. Milan honestly didn't know whether or not the stranger in the rain would've deliberately caused Mari harm. It was something he tried his hardest not to picture. It made his stomach feel sick when he thought about what that knight had done to her, and although deep down Milan knew it wasn't his fault, he couldn't help but feel like it was because he didn't do anything about it. He had been too afraid - he was always so afraid, so damn weak! Milan idly scuffed at the floor with his boot, his hands sinking limply into his pockets and his shoulders slumping miserably. The humidity of the bathhouse was causing his damp hair to melt about his face, and he gave a small jerk of his head to dispel the wet locks from interfering with his line of vision. Solemn blue eyes swiveled in Mari's direction, mapping the designs her soaked dark locks patterned against the ivory skin of her shoulders and upper back. Milan timidly reached back out, his hand very lightly smoothing over the ball of her shoulder and down her arm. He closed his eyes and inclined his head briefly, inhaling the scent of her hair. His other hand moved to rest on her free shoulder, and he dipped his chin into the crook of her neck, his face partially nuzzled against the space just below her ear. "C...can...I...kkkeep...you?" he whispered. His inquiry was completely innocent. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 27 2010, 06:29 PM Post #86 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Mon Jun 09, 2008 6:37 am Neeria and Malcus Barbattus
Tristan yelled at Neeria, pulling his own braids. The woman was exasperated and had no idea what he was talking about and more so why he was so angry with her. “Main hair!” she yelled back him and pulled her long locks, mocking his action, not understanding what their hair had anything to do with the horse. But it didn’t matter because the horse, for a reason unknown to Neeria, suddenly broke into a trot. Neeria screamed and reached out for Tristan who leaned over, trying to keep her upright, guiding his own horse with his knees. Panicking, Neeria grabbed onto the Sarmatian’s arm, trying to pull herself over to him, her eyes wide with panic and hot tears spilling down her face. “Tristan!!” Neeria screamed, momentarily forgetting her anger. “Please!!”
Having watched the whole freak show unfold in front of him, Malcus gently kicked at Falco’s sides, squeezing himself and his horse between the stalls and Sitra, with Tristan on the other side. Thank God the aisle was wide enough. Barbattus reached over and grabbed the reigns so that Tristan could stay in his saddle as the petrified woman clung to him. “Fuck!!” the captain yelled and launched into his usual litany of curse words. “Fuck!” he yelled again as the whole debacle came to a halt, finally. The captain shook his head and rested his balled fists on the saddle pommel, looking at Tristan with flashing eyes. “God in heaven have mercy on us!” Malcus could barely control his anger. Arthur, Arthur, Arthur the captain wanted to scream. His brain throbbed in his skull and he felt a fine layer of sweat break out on his forehead. He looked at the woad and then back at Tristan, almost sorrowfully, and said “Yes, you’re right. At this rate, we’ll never even get out of the barn. We’ll take turns with her,” he said, glaring at Neeria. “You’ll take the first shift, then I will take her,” he said with disgust. Neeria didn’t appear to have heard either of them. She was still clinging onto to Tristan’s arm, her wide eyes locked onto his, wide and moist from her tears. The woman was breathing heavily, almost gasping for air and her small body trembled violently. Sitra snorted and bobbed her head up and down, disappointed at the missed opportunity to run. The mare stamped her foot which made Neeria scramble again, swinging her short leg over the saddle, trying to claw her way over to Tristan. “Do what you must to secure her,” Malcus said, “and let’s get the hell out of here!” Just then, the optio himself strode into the stable in all his Roman glory and right behind him Mordred entered. “Oh bloody hell, we’ll have ourselves a real party now,” the captain said and rolled his eyes to the heavens. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 27 2010, 06:32 PM Post #87 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Mon Jun 09, 2008 7:48 am Tristan
Tristan silently rolled his eyes, all his efforts focused now on getting Neeria to come over to him- and not kill herself or the horse doing it. She was clawing at his arm and shoulder, crying in her panic, and all occasioned over...nothing. She wanted to get to him, but she was thrashing so in her fear that her efforts did little good, and Tristan had to basically do all the work himself. After some struggling and jockeying for position, during which a flailing arm smacked him in the face more than once, he managed to get his arms firmly around her waist and pull her off Sitra and onto his own saddle. Once she was there, the woman was still no help at all, but clung to him, whimpering uselessly, and he had to grab for her ankle and swing her leg over to the other side of the saddle for her. She was in front of him, of course. He didn't trust her to ride behind, but, damn it, he would be near useless if it came to a scuffle, if he had to hold her like this at the same time. "Fuck's sake, sit still. You're not hurt," he grunted in her ear, one arm firmly around her waist as with the other hand he softly patted Tirgatao's neck, soothing the horse. He was a good lad indeed- he had stood relatively still for all that, merely twisting his head around to observe the unusual activity taking place on his back with interest. Tristan took a moment to reach into his belt pouch for a bit of carrot and leaned forward to offer it to his mount, ignoring the Woad's momentary panicked struggle as his weight shifted and just clamping her tighter against him. By all the Gods- useless! But they were as ready as they were going to be, it seemed. Sometime during all that, the stable doors had been opened, and not only the Optio, but Mordred, too, were down near the entrance, getting onto their own horses which must just have been brought. Keeping a firm hold on Neeria, and with Barbattus on his mount alongside, Tristan urged Tirgatao down to the doors to join the other two men, who firmly ignored both him and the prisoner- typically.
Tristan groaned inwardly at that, though he kept his face impassive and composed. They weren't taking the other one, too, were they? Tristan had not yet had occasion to see the second Woad prisoner, but he had heard talk that she was a little girl, and that she had a fierce tendency to bite. That was all he needed- to get bitten too, on top of all this. He hoped, hoped to all the Gods there might be, that they were not taking her. He couldn't imagine a purpose for it. But then again, he couldn't imagine much purpose to keeping Neeria alive, either. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 27 2010, 06:34 PM Post #88 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Mon Jun 09, 2008 8:17 am Drake Drake's smile did not waver as Linnette continued to stare at him. He could see something in her eyes but couldn't quite put his finger on it. There was something there that had not been before. He didn't feel in any way special or irresistable because she could not take her eyes from him, instead he just watched her.
The Spaniard made to protest but Linnette clambered from her stool and clattered her spoon against the counter-top. Drake made a grab for the spoon too but her hand got there first, leaving him with his hand in the air, a puzzled look on his face as she darted away from him towards the kitchen. There was something in her behaviour that reminded Drake of Elysia and how she had been when she had started growing up... growing into a young woman, not a young girl. But that was ridiculous. It was Linnette. She was mourning for a start, Drake reminded himself. She was already grown up and what the hell would she be getting all girlish around him, of all people, for? Drake cleared his throat when she left, giving the woman behind the bar a look that dared her to open her mouth. She grinned and walked away to serve elsewhere, leaving Drake for a few quiet moments to wonder what the hell had just happened.
The spaniard gave a small start at Linnette's sudden reappearance. She placed the bowl down in front of him with a slab of bread, some butter handy also. Drake shifted to the side on his stool, glancing to the side at Linnette warily, wondering if she had gotten over that earlier strangeness. She was seated next to him again, close, perhaps too close? Or perhaps too far away? Either way it felt strange to have her sitting there to his side. Shrugging one shoulder, Drake picked up the spoon and stirred the stew, sniffing at it momentarily before giving another sideways look at Linnette when she asked what he had discovered regarding her room. His look was bleak, he grimaced and blew out a breath as he dunked the bread into the stew. "That the Optio is an ill-prepared cun..." Drake began but his voice trailed off and he gave Linnette an apologetic wince. He took a bite of bread and half turned towards her as he chewed, elbow on the bar, feet tucked onto the bars of the stool but his knees spread wide apart, shoulders slumped though out of habit more than demonstrative of his mood. "The room arrangements have not been thought out thoroughly. They have one rather large quarters availabe for you but .. " Drake stirred his soup, turning his head only to look at what he was doing. He sighed, shaking his head as he turned back to look at her - "It has two rooms in it so you have to find someone to bunk in with or..." he didn't finish, giving a helpless shrug of his large shoulder. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her that his room was next door to this one but couldn't figure out a suitable reason to inform her of this. Nor could he think of any suitable solution to this mess. "It's a mess." he told her as he gulped a spoonful of stew, bringing it around in front of him where he held it in one hand and scooped with the other. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 27 2010, 06:35 PM Post #89 |
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Author: Darya Date: Mon Jun 09, 2008 10:51 am Darya
The dark Sarmatian smiled wryly…but found herself distracted by someone slamming his or her hand onto the counter or a table… Dark eyes immediately searched for the source of the loud noise…and Darya soon found out that it apparently had been Galahad, who had caused the commotion. She briefly frowned at him but then focused on Gabriel again… Well, she did not have real plans…but there were some things on her mind that she had yet to think about. And she still wanted to take a bath. And then there was Arthur…and the things she had to tell him. Sucking her lower lip for a moment, the woman finally met Gabriel’s gaze once more… “Well, thank you for your invitation…but maybe it would be more appropriate if you go to meet your family alone… After all the time…”, she then said and brushed a strand of long dark hair out of her face, “…but I’m sure we’ll see each other again…and maybe you can show me some of that jewelry you’re selling then…” Then Darya gestured slightly towards the door. “I will, however, leave the tavern now, too…and maybe point you into the right direction, if necessary. It’s quite possible that some things have changed and moved since you left…”, she added and gave the man opposite her a nod. Yes, she had briefly been tempted to indeed accompany the stranger…and if for distraction’s sake only. But to be alone with a person she did not know at all, who she had just met, simply did not seem to be the right thing to do after the last days… |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 27 2010, 06:37 PM Post #90 |
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Author: Unicorn Date: Mon Jun 09, 2008 12:44 pm Dagonet
The gentle smile from Jols and his words made Dagonet uneasy... Happiness will come.... Dagonet doubted it for now. And the tragedy he was going through was awfuly real and terrible... He could not breath completely, in full, he could not live completely in full, when he knew Gedeon will never ever see his child... and that his own grandchild will never know his true father. This was the tragedy he did not know how to face.
Familiar voice broke his dark thoughts and made him look away from Jols before he could say anything, to approaching Saoirse. He truly wanted to smile at her, but when he saw the expression upon her face, a very sad looking face with signs of wetness, he frowned in worry. Was she crying? As her hand grasped his, he tried to squeez it but his strenghts were so limited that it was just a weak clench. Why was she crying? Was it beacuse of him? Somebody made her cry? What happened? - those questions were asked in his eyes, but he had not let his tongue to sound them in front of others. He noticed Lucius behind Saoirse and Derfel coming their way also. He looked back at his lover and his eyes reflected the questions inside his mind. What happened that she was crying?
Dagonet looked at Jols as he gave him a gentle squeez upon his arm and the big knight silently thanked the man for the visit. He knew that Jols will be the man to take care for others and for their things... He was responsible.
She sat upon the side of his bed and he felt the urge to grasp her by her waist and just hold her... get lost in her.... His hand left hers and his arm went slowly around her to her hip. "It's alright..." he whispered towards her. "I was worrying, little one" He saw Derfel's reassuring expression on his face and the tall knight nodded at him. "I don't want to keep you from your duty, Derfel... and Lucius." he included the Roman but still looked into Derfel's eyes. "Thank you..." He thanked for the way Derfel took care of him while returning home... the way he held Dagonet straight and that he was there always when he needed his help and now for visiting him and talking to him... But a loud humm made him look somewhere behind Derfel... there was a small blonde girl, who Linnette brought one day to the tavern... The night he thought Gedeon will be a great father. The night when Saoirse left him in the tavern... The first night after their full reunion... Before they talked fully about everything. The tall knight wanted to smile at the girl but the thoughts of what happened when he had first saw her made his expression grim... numb even maybe. He just starred at the liitle thing without words in him. Numb outside but hurted inside. |
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