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| June 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 23 2010, 07:18 PM (3,704 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | Mar 27 2010, 06:38 PM Post #91 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Mon Jun 09, 2008 12:52 pm Malcus Barbattus Malcus watched as Tristan finally got the woad woman over and into his saddle. They started making their way toward barn doors as Amadeus and Mordred mounted.
Malcus looked at the optio, taking in his arrogance. "She is in the dungeons where she belongs. Commander Castus only ordered this one to go along with us. The one in the prison is only a child yet someone beat her good," Barbattus said, narrowing his eyes at Mordred. "There she is and there she will stay until Arthur tells me otherwise." Then the captain tapped his heels to Falco, leading his mount out of the stables and into the cold, drizzling rain. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 27 2010, 06:39 PM Post #92 |
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Author: Lancelot Date: Mon Jun 09, 2008 2:18 pm Lancelot The Sarmatian wanted to hit himself for stumbling over Arthur - especially when Arthur noticed it. He tried to laugh it off...but that didn't seem to sit too well with the injured commander.
Lancelot's red and tired eyes tracked from Arthur's one handed grip on his leathers to the other man's face. He cocked an arched eyebrow haughtily - how dare he assume he knows what's wrong with me anymore? - but as he listened to the Roman's voice, Lancelot found himself relaxing his tight stance and sighing with resignation. He knew, of course, he'd do no such thing as rest; he'd see to his fellows and then after that, perhaps a bath - and maybe a willing wench. Or maybe just a lot of drink. He'd have to see. Especially with the rain pissing down the way it was. And besides, he hadn't been too friendly with any of the tavern girls recently - he wasn't sure if any of them would have him. And he really did need to make sure his weapons were cleaned and ready for the next, inevitable fight. And what of Neeve - and Darya? He coud find Arthur's lover for him and bring her here to watch him. And then I could disappear from his life forever, as if I were the smoke and flame of the torches in the hall. Perhaps it would hurt less that way. His arm twinged, though a lot less vehemently than before, and he pulled away slowly from Arthur's grasp. He sat on the edge of the bed as before, and allowed himself a good, long look at his old friend and onetime ... so much more. "I will give my word that I will not do anything foolish...for me," he said as he regarded Arthur impassively. Despite his wanting to be serious and to get away with his blades so he could have a proper think, Lancelot found a small smile was stretching his mouth. "I will be as good as I can possibly be without destroying the minds of the men who might see me acting 'out of character,' as it were." The sides of his face hurt from the action of his smile, but as he watched Arthur, it did not go away - just yet. "I will be fine. I will heal, the same as I continue to do each time, despite the gods' amazingly awful sense of humor at keeping me alive." He shook his head, the tiniest of laughs passing through his throat and lips. "I will be here when you call, Arthur. I always will be." Wait. Lancelot's brows drew together, and his eyes unfocused as he examined that statement. I will be here when you call. I always will be. Could it be as simple as all that? Could Lancelot adjust to the idea that ... he might be able to be at peace with himself and he and Arthur's new version of a relationship? Or did he wish to fight it and ignore happiness and the small amount of contentment he might find by letting that part of his hold on Arthur go? "Jesus," he copied the swear that he'd heard some of the Legionaries use in times of pure anger. "I will take care. I promise it." I will not think on this now. Not now, when he is so close and I am so out of control. He stood, and licked his cracked lips as he stared down at Arthur. Unbidden, his hand reached out and touched the lines that were almost always present between Arthur's green eyes, much as he had their last night of the campaign. "These are too deep, now." He drew the finger once down the middle of Arthur's forehead, and to his horror he found he didn't mind. Jesus, indeed. What was he thinking? Did he want to make things more confusing for himself? Sighing, Lancelot turned from the bed and, after throwing his borrowed leathers over his shoulder, took up his blades in their sheath and shouldered them as well. He put his hand on the latch - funny, wasn't I just at this point? - but cocked his head enough to see Arthur. "Do you want for anything? And tell me, please, otherwise I'll send Jols to you with some warm water and wonderful, herby hot tea." He smirked, but his heart wasn't in the gesture. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 27 2010, 11:34 PM Post #93 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Mon Jun 09, 2008 2:50 pm Linnette
Linnette's eyes grew wide with surprise as she discerned what word was coming next- but Drake didn't actually complete it. He winced slightly, as if remembering she was there, and the look he snuck her was clearly apologetic. Linnette gave a soft, nervous laugh in response- she wasn't entirely comfortable with an insult to Amadeus like that. Surely he hadn't meant any harm, whatever the problem was- it must have been an oversight. No one was perfectly prepared for everything all the time. She swallowed and continued to watch Drake, who was taking a bite of bread before he went on. It was strangely gratifying to watch him eat the food she had brought, and know he appreciated it- gratifying to know that there was some thing she could do for him, however small.
"Bunk in with?" Linnette's forehead screwed up in consternation as she sat a little back on her stood, looking at Drake confusedly. "I don't think I know anyone I..." She broke off, shaking her head. She didn't know of anyone to bunk in with! Everyone either had families, or in the case of the tavern girls, they were already paired up to share the rooms above the kitchen two by two. Maybe Ione? She slept in the weaving shop, and Linnette did not think she would want to move- and she was not sure whether or not the weaving shop had room for her to move there either...she could ask, but Drake was right. It was a mess. "Well, damn it," she remarked frustatedly, leaning an elbow on the counter with a sigh...only to realize belatedly that she had sworn. Blood rushed hot and mortifying to her cheeks, and she turned her head and hid her face in her hand, stammering out a barely audible "sorry" from behind it. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 27 2010, 11:36 PM Post #94 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Mon Jun 09, 2008 5:02 pm Arthur There was what appeared to be a flash of annoyance in Lancelot’s eyes again, but Arthur ignored it. He would have the other man’s promise or the Commander would not allow his lieutenant out of his sight. The last thing Arthur needed right now was Lancelot taking matters into his own hands and riding out after Merlin….especially unbeknownst to Arthur. Did Lancelot not understand that Arthur was only ordering the man to do what was best for him? Yet, as Lancelot’s expression softened and he slowly pulled away from Arthur’s grasp, the Roman began to have real hope that the other man understood what he was asking. Green eyes continued to follow Lancelot’s every movement as the man sat down on the bed again. Was he in pain? The lines in Arthur’s brow deepened in concern, but he refrained from reaching for the other man again.
That was not exactly what Arthur had wanted to hear. Lancelot had carefully – on purpose or not – sidestepped promising anything specific. But considering how exhausted the knight appeared to be, Arthur doubted Lancelot would do anything too foolish….for now at any rate.
Why had hearing Lancelot’s promise hurt so much? Was it Arthur’s own guilt at not always being there for Lancelot rearing its ugly head? He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came. His mouth snapped back shut and his fingers flexed in the furs covering the bed. Offering his ‘gratitude’ for such a promise seemed a trifling and unnecessary gesture.
Jesus? Arthur’s eyebrows rose for a brief moment at Lancelot’s chosen expletive. But he made no comment in regards to it. “I am glad of it, my friend,” Arthur quietly answered at last and allowed a small nod in affirmation as Lancelot stood again. The Roman’s head throbbed and he brought a hand up to briefly rub two fingers at his temple. Rest…both men desperately required it. And as if Lancelot had read Arthur’s thoughts on the matter, he reached down to trace a finger over the Roman’s creased brow. The contact was not unwanted and although Arthur would never admit it, Lancelot’s touch was familiar and soothing and actually seemed to ease the throbbing in his head. But immediately the Roman’s brain reminded Arthur of why he had shoved Lancelot away…..He cannot love and I cannot give him what he needs.
Arthur’s eyelids languidly slid shut. At least until Lancelot pulled away again….before Arthur would be forced to remove the knight’s fingers from his skin to break the intimate contact. But inside – in the very depths of his bewildered and broken heart – Arthur knew that he could not do it again. Something had changed. Was it peace? Had he and Lancelot finally reached level ground between them again? Arthur prayed it to be true. Arthur slowly released the breath he had not realized he’d been holding as Lancelot turned away. My mind is addled. I cannot think any longer. Rest. God help me to rest now.
“No, I am fine, I assure you. And do NOT give Jols any suggestions on my behalf. He does well enough on his own to fuss over me,” Arthur answered with a small smile gracing his weary expression. The small amount of humor between them was a comfort. Normalcy. He also forced himself to take the offer at face value and not over analyze Lancelot’s intentions in asking. The honest answer: Arthur wanted peace…and truth…and at the moment a few hours rest. Then he would sort out the Optio’s request for satisfaction and any other matters requiring his attention this day. And Arthur would pray for the success of the Optio’s mission of peace to Merlin. “Go on, my friend, we will speak again later tonight,” Arthur said in parting. He slowly albeit stiffly slid back down and fully stretched out on the bed again. But Arthur turned his head to the side; his green eyes sought out Lancelot one last time before the knight had exited the room. “And perhaps after you have enjoyed a generous amount of ale, you will then share with me what still troubles you, hm?” Arthur added a gentle reminder that he was yet aware that Lancelot had ‘something’ distressful on his mind. And although the Roman would not push his friend for the moment, he had no intention of letting it go completely. Later. And without further hesitation, Arthur gently crossed his arms over his abdomen and closed his weary eyes. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 27 2010, 11:37 PM Post #95 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Mon Jun 09, 2008 5:14 pm Titrus
Titrus followed the blond down the long dark corridor. She was slightly ahead of him, holding his hand. He let his eyes to drift down her back to the soft mound of her bottom. He watched her derriere move beneath the cloth of her dress and his erection stiffened again, straining against the soft leather of his trousers. When they arrived just outside what appeared to be a small room, the woman turned around and cast Titrus a playful yet seductive look, still twirling a wisp of curl in her fingers. Titrus looked at her creamy bosom again and smiled. Catherine opened the door to the room and Titrus stepped inside, looking around with his hand on the hilt of sword. Even in his lust, the Roman knew he should be careful following a whore into a secret place. It could certainly be a trap. Titrus walked over and opened the door to what he found to be a closet. Confident that all was well, Titrus released his grip on his sword, turned around and smiled again. Catherine closed the door with a click, making sure it was locked.
Catherine closed the short distance between them and pressed her womanhood against him. Titrus fought the urge to grind his hips. The woman twisted her fingers around his with one hand and touched his collarbone with the other. Titrus smiled at her. “I have seen you before,” he answered, “but I am just recently widowed. My wife died just 3 seasons ago. It has been quite a while since I’ve held the company of a woman. You will be my first lover since her death.” To show the woman that it was not sympathy he sought, Titrus lowered his head to her neck, taking in her scent. She smelled of spring flowers during a rain storm - God how he felt the burning desire in his loins. Titrus grabbed a handful of the woman’s hair causing her to tilt her neck, exposing her long and beautiful neck. Titrus smiled again and slowly, oh so slowly licked her pulse, running his tongue from just below her earlobe down to her collarbone. With his other hand, he removed the woman’s hand from his own chest and pinned it behind her. “I want to kiss you. Is that okay?” Titrus knew that some…working women…preferred not to kiss. They considered the action far too personal. But Titrus longed for the closeness of a kiss. He may have been shy to confront the woman, but Titrus knew he was a skilled lover and now that they were in the privacy of the small room, he wanted to take control. Titrus was a man who derived pleasure from pleasing a woman almost more than receiving pleasure himself. Deeta had taught him many things about pleasure and pleasing a woman was the only way Titrus knew. The lieutenant cupped Catherine’s breast and rubbed his thumb over her nipple, slowly, until it strained to show itself against the fabric of her dress. Releasing her hair, he lowered his other hand and gently squeezed her bottom, pulling her closer to what he had to offer. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 27 2010, 11:38 PM Post #96 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Mon Jun 09, 2008 5:19 pm Derfel Derfel looked on as Dagonet spoke softly to Saoirse when the red head joined the tall Sarmatian on his bed. She still looked a bit shaken up to Derfel, but surely Dagonet would sort out whatever it was. But of course the younger knight was willing to help out if Saoirse should need anything while Dagonet was laid up here in the infirmary. And speaking of…Linnette might need looking in on again. And as if Dagonet had read Derfel’s thoughts….
“You are most welcome, my friend. And the only duty you be keeping me from is looking in on Linnesse and Linnette,” Derfel answered with gentle blue eyes for his friend. No doubt Dagonet still suffered greatly at the loss of Gedeon. Derfel still carried the weight of that particular loss himself, not to mention Aelle’s. He blew out a breath and then opened his mouth to ask Saoirse something when a young girl fluttered into the space between where he stood and the end of Dagonet’s bed. Derfel could not suppress a wide smile at the child, recalling seeing her in the tavern a few times before. “M’lady Saoirse, anything you be needin’? I am on my way to the tavern with Lucius here,” Derfel briefly gestured towards the Roman soldier standing at his side. “So if there is anything…I’d be glad to fetch it for ya,” He finished with a warm smile for Dagonet’s lady. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 27 2010, 11:40 PM Post #97 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Mon Jun 09, 2008 7:33 pm Mona Mona shifted her weight. She and Guinevere had been crouched down for what seemed like an eternity since they’d heard Neeria’s voice. Two men who were obviously Roman soldiers had gone into the stables just a short while ago. Mona shifted again and started thinking about her plan to get rid of Guinevere. She would obviously have to make her move soon. If they were actually successful in rescuing Neeria, Mona may lose her opportunity. Out of the corner of her eye, she looked at Guinevere with pure hatred. Suddenly, the barn doors opened and several riders came out. Instantly Mona recognized the men whom had just gone inside the stable. But there was another man also who also appeared to be a Roman soldier. Next to him was a rugged-looking man carrying Neeria on his horse! Mona blinked just to make sure she was seeing correctly. What was Neeria doing on a horse with these men? What was going on and where were they going? Mona looked at Guinevere in genuine surprise, confused by what she was watching. “What’s going on?” she whispered. “We have to follow them!” |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 27 2010, 11:41 PM Post #98 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Tue Jun 10, 2008 4:33 pm Tristan As the Optio questioned the Captain, Mordred sat his horse nearby looking slightly studiously attentive and respectful, and Neeria shifted uncomfortably in front of Tristan- though not too far in any one direction, owing to the fact that he kept a tight grip on her- the scout became aware of something else in the courtyard- something that was not quite right. The rain was beginning to let up, and people were starting to move about the courtyard a bit more- but most of them drew neither Tristan's attention nor his suspicion. What did was the deep archway protecting a little-used entrance to the weapons stores, just around the corner of the courtyard from where he and the others stood. Someone was in there. Two someones, in fact, and they were taking care not to come out of the shadowed part of the archway into the full exposure of the courtyard. From this angle and in this relatively dim, cloudy light, Tristan could not tell who they were- it could have been anyone, even just kids playing around. But the rather furtive behavior was what triggered the rise of hair on the back of his neck. Whoever in there was acting as though they had some reason to hide, and whether that reason was some sort of game, or whether it was real, was anyone's guess. But considering the prisoner who rode before Tristan on his saddle, the scout was not inclined to shrug it off. Making sure once again that his grip on Neeria was secure, Tristan stole a glance at the Optio and the Captain. Talk- no more than talk going on there as yet. No one else seemed to have noticed what he had as yet. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 27 2010, 11:42 PM Post #99 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Tue Jun 10, 2008 7:37 pm Neeria Neeria strained to reach for Tristan but in her terror, all she did was make things more difficult. The pain in her side was throbbing, which also didn’t help matters. Finally, Tristan reached over and literally pulled the shrieking woman onto his horse, situating her in front of him in the saddle. Neeria squeezed her eyes shut and breathed heavily, almost hyperventilating. She pressed back into Tristan’s chest, trembling, still grabbing at his hands and rambling in her native language.
Tristan’s gruff voice reverberated in Neeria’s ear. She nodded her head, trying to pull herself together. When Tristan shifted, the woman panicked all over and once again dug her fingers into the scout as he slowly guided his horse out of the stable. Tristan’s grip around her middle was tight and his forearm pressed hard into her wounded side. Neeria had trouble breathing but didn’t dare protest. Tristan might’ve thrown her from the horse. The woad peered down at the ground and gasped at how high up they were. She wiped the tears from her eyes and tried desperately to regain her composure. She had a splitting headache and her whole body ached. Neeria looked at the other men on horses - all Romans. Surprisingly, she wasn’t frightened. She was more afraid of the horse. Once again, Neeria pressed her head back into Tristan to keep herself steady. As the procession made its way to the courtyard, Neeria wondered what had happened to Ash. Was he still behind the Wall? Would he attempt a rescue? How many were with him? As the questions flooded her mind, Neeria looked around. Two shadows in an alleyway suddenly caught her eye. She fought the urge to sit upright and she held back her gasp. Neeria recognized the forms, both female, even in the shadows. After all, they were her war sisters. Neeria knew without a doubt that she was seeing Guinevere and Mona. They had come for her. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 27 2010, 11:43 PM Post #100 |
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Author: linnet Date: Tue Jun 10, 2008 7:59 pm Mother Lavinia After successfully disposing of the slovenly knight and the sullen knight, Lavinia made her way to where she had left Dagonet and Bors resting. She saw that Jols had indeed snuck by while she’d been distracted. But he was sitting beside the big knight, and they were talking so quietly, not even waking Bors, that she decided to let them be. She resumed her patrol of the infirmary, making mental notes of who occupied the cots, and what housekeeping needed to be done. The nun didn’t stop to examine or tend to any of the patients. This was strictly an administrative inspection. Instead she took stock of which of her staff appeared to be doing their job with some degree of proficiency. For those on staff who were nowhere to be seen, a special list was compiled in the old woman’s brain. Halfway through her tour, Lavinia’s attention was grabbed by a ruckus taking place under the covers of a bed. Lumps of various sizes moved up, down, and sideways. The nun watched with a scowl. One could only imagine what was going on under there, and it all seemed nasty. She was about to intervene by pulling back the covers and chastising the offender publicly, when a girl emerged. The child tossed a piece of clothing on the floor, and sat looking pleased at the garment she now wore. Lavinia knew the girl to be the older of the two sisters who had been brought in a few days earlier with the fever. Neither child seemed seriously ill now, and Lavinia remembered that they had appeared to be up to something that morning when the Woads were brought in. The thought of the Woads made Lavinia want nothing more to do with any children for a while. Still, it was troubling that these two girls seemed to have no family or other adults in attendance. She looked around for the younger one, but didn’t see her, and hoped that she was only off somewhere within the infirmary. Trying to rearrange her face to not-quite-so-crabby, Lavinia approached the thin girl. The old woman had not treated her fever personally, but she trusted that the youngster would recognize that she was a healer. “How are you feeling, child?” she asked, placing her hand on the girl’s forehead to check for fever. “I believe you are well enough to leave soon. Will someone be coming who can take you and your sister home?” |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 27 2010, 11:44 PM Post #101 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Tue Jun 10, 2008 8:13 pm Adian
Adian normally liked his women to be more mysterious, and it seemed to him that Tatiana was more than willing to give out information on her background...or so it seemed. He only gave her a smile, not wanting to divulge too much about his own background. If she is full of pranks and such, bet she's a real fun one in....He stopped his thoughts for it was too soon for him to even think of that. Adian felt the soaking wet cat huddle closer inside his cloak. Llawen was mewing and sneezing...shivering. Obviously, the grey cat and Ione had become separated as they were inseparable....
Adian agreed and followed her out of the gardens with the cat wrapped in the cloak. He had met the smithy, and was glad that Tatiana had thought to lead them there. Once inside, he waited for Tatiana to enter before shutting the door. The smithy looked up from his work and was surprised to see the three enter. Putting down his hammer, the husky man approached them, then his eyes fell to the cat who was purring comfortably and contentedly. Petting the wet fur, he addressed the little animal, 'Well champ, what'dya wanna go outside for...?' The man was big built but took the cat from Adian and placed it on a woolen blanket near a warm fire. 'He's been camping out here for a long time now....kills the rats and mice, ' The man returned to Adian and Tatiana. 'I'll take good care of him....good companion that one.' |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 27 2010, 11:47 PM Post #102 |
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Author: sabor ice Date: Wed Jun 11, 2008 12:06 am Fleur Fleur was not necessarily an eavesdropper - she was just curious. People simply interested her. She liked to know about people she wasn't familiar with; she liked to talk with them. It never occurred to her that not everybody cared for children, nor that some strangers would purposely seek to harm her, and for no reason at all at times. In her eyes, everybody was good, everybody was equal, and everybody was the hero. The adults around her conversed amongst themselves, and Fleur naturally tuned out most of the 'grown-up' talk. Selective hearing was an inevitably impressionable childhood tool. The little girl closed one eye and cupped her hands around her open one, imitating the use of a telescope as she silently observed. The bed-ridden man glanced in her direction, but he did not smile at her. Instead he studied her with an unfathomable expression, and it ultimately made Fleur frown and quietly go 'hmm...' through locked lips. The woman with her 'hair on fire' was solely focused on him. Fleur rotated her abdomen and looked up through her 'hand-made' telescope at the fair-haired man beside her. He smiled brightly down at her, and it encouraged a small giggle to bubble up from Fleur's throat. Past the fair-haired man was a dark-haired one, and his face was astonishingly familiar to the little blonde. Fleur pursed her lips in thought, narrowing her blue eyes as she intently scrutinized the soldier. Finally her features softened and then lit up in recognition. She pointed a finger at Lucius. "Hey, I know you!" Fleur squeaked delightedly. She put on a playful pout and pounded her little fists onto her hips. "You wouldn't lemme see your sword that one time in the 'davern'," she chided matter-of-factly, bringing up a finger to scratch an itch on the side of her nose in the meantime. Fleur shrugged her shoulders up to her ears and smiled innocently. "That's ok, but I was just lookin' y'know. I wan'ed you to know that I was just...lookin'." Cassidy
Child. Cassidy scowled at that word, immediately forgetting the slight sense of accomplishment she had felt managing to change dresses without showing her secrets to the world. Her brow frowned into a sharp 'v' and she jerked her head away defiantly when the old healer with the pinched face tried to place a palm there. Cassidy wasn't as intimidated of Lavinia as she probably should've been, and that showed through on the girl's soured features. She didn't like the way the woman looked down on her, seemingly judging her more deeply than just from a healer's perspective. The blonde defensively crossed her arms over her chest. "No," Cassidy replied, curtly. She lifted her chin, blue eyes penetrating Lavinia's, essentially staring her down, challenging her even. Her tone was flat as she added: "They're all dead." Well, perhaps that was not entirely true, but who was to know? Her mother was dead, that Cassidy was positive about. As for her father, she had been almost too young to recall the events leading up to his departure - although she supposed it was possible his departure had not included death. He had simply...gone. Vanished. Abandoned his family. Her mouth ran dry. Her father was no more...dead to her. "I take care of my sister," she added, matter-of-factly. Cassidy threw the covers off of her lap and swung her legs over the bedside opposite where Lavinia was. She stood and glanced pointedly back at the old healer. Her voice was tight, her tone sounding final, dismissive: "We're fine. Thank you." |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 27 2010, 11:48 PM Post #103 |
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Author: Kay Date: Wed Jun 11, 2008 1:26 am Guinevere Guinevere watched as the group of riders came out into the courtyard, instantly spying her friend.
The Woad princess made a mental note of the number of Romans surrounding the horse on which Neeria was sitting. They could not attempt to rescue her here; they were outnumbered. Even if, by some miracle, they could kill the Romans and get close to Neeria, she was being held in the clutches of one of the Sarmatians. Guinevere knew the scout of old; the man was a fearsome warrior and Neeria would be dead long before they got near. Guinevere had to admit that Mona was right; the only option was follow the group and hope that a chance for rescue would arise once outside the fortress. Neeria was looking around now and Guinevere tensed, for she saw her friend glance in their direction, saw the recognition on her face! Neeria had seen them! At least now she knew that they had not abandoned her. Guinevere retreated back further into the shadows, for if Neeria could seen them, then it was possible that the sharp eyed scout would spot them, too. She pulled Mona back with her. "Neeria has seen us" Guinevere whispered. "As soon as the horses move, we will follow them" |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 27 2010, 11:49 PM Post #104 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Wed Jun 11, 2008 12:20 pm Amadeus Amadeus was not concerned about the other woad. Not in the normal decent way at least. He was just curious as to what Arthur intended on doing with a bloody woad-child. He should have had her killed by now as she served no purpose and would only grow up to be a damn woad warrior and royal pain in the arse at a later date. Was it just him that saw this problem?
The Optio listened with distant interest, his grey eyes scanning Mordred and then he looked towards the woad wench sitting on Tristan's saddle. He clicked his tongue and nodded his head at Barbattus' answer, ignoring the man's suggestively insolent tone. He did quirk an eyebrow however, giving a mocking grin to the Captain - "Sympathy for the enemy, Captain? A woad child will grow into a woad adult. Do not forget it." he said tersely, then gestured towards the woad on Tristan's saddle, speaking to Barbattus for he would nto lower himself to speak to the Sarmatian dog. "One wrong move from her and she is to be bound." he added non-chalantly, kicking his horse forward and heading towards the courtyard. Once he reached the threshold, Amadeus kicked his horse to a faster pace. Outisde the rain was finally easing off which the Roman saw as a good omen for this mission. He turned the grey stallion he rode towards the gates of Badon Hill, gesturing for them to be opened. He galloped along the edge of the wall before striking out across country, setting a relatively easy pace. Amadeus did not bother to keep a look out around him - that is what Barbattus and Tristan were for after all. He cast a cautionary look towards Mordred however, nodding his head at the man in silent communication that this was their time, their opportunity. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 27 2010, 11:51 PM Post #105 |
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Author: TwistOfShadows Date: Wed Jun 11, 2008 3:46 pm Eyla Burning, aching thighs… Oh yes, that was the perfect way to end the day. It didn’t matter that her knees were half useless beneath her skirts, nor did it matter that her hair tumbled down over her rounded bosom. It was all for show, and such a beautiful show she made! Dark eyes peaked out from thick eyelashes, and they were liquid black, satisfied. Her small lips were curled into a satisfied smile, and her hips swayed to the perfect rhythm of her seduction. Eyla loved life. She loved its rudeness, its impatience, its lack of community…and most of all, she loved its flirtations. Eyla was a whore; let no-one paint her otherwise. Prostitute, wench, filthy little woman with a talent for seduction. It mattered not, because she enjoyed it. She lived for it. Her body hummed with the aftermath of love-making, such job satisfaction! She wondered if the barmaids felt the same after a shift? She doubted it, and purred a low hum of satisfaction in her throat. She glanced down at her tiny fingers, and felt the softness of the skin. No calluses, no scratches. Eyla had the hands of a noble woman…a woman who dwelt in silk and satin, not drunken men and pitchers of ale… “Eyla, you are perfect…” She spoke sweetly to herself, not caring for her surroundings. The fortress of Badon Hill was shadowed by a large sheet of graying afternoon sky, and Eyla could smell rain in the air. She glanced down at her slippered feet, and quickened her pace. A drunken and rather smelly man lay slumped against the wall of the tavern, and Eyla paused…almost tempted to take any coin he might have. It was tempting. Drunken men were easy prey, and she usually took pride in seducing them and charging extra. Indeed, she had learnt that masculine wit and intellect was rare. They were simply good at one thing, and Eyla reaped the benefits. Oh yes, she did. She felt her pleasured nipples rub against the inside of her bodice, and raked her fingers back through her hair. No, she didn’t have time to seduce….she had a duty. Duty? Eyla nearly laughed aloud at that word, and ducked into the corridor leading to Artorius’ quarters. She was a maid to the Roman Commander of Badon Hill, but only because she fancied a quick session beneath his breeches. The whore fancied he’d feel quite satisfactory beneath his tunic. She’d nearly had him once, oh so nearly! She remembered that night well. It had been one of the only sensual experiences worth remembering. They’d lain together before the raging fire, the prostitute and the Roman Commander. It was folly! Truly! Eyla did not dream like other girls. She did not care for fanciful dreams or aspirations…she knew her worth, and yet, Artorius was a project. She found his company entertaining, and his impatience with her mannerisms was delectable. But recently? He had been away, and life had been quite dull at the fortress. Eyla enjoyed her other patrons, but Artorius was a challenge. He did not melt infront of her. He wasn’t…pathetic… He wasn’t…easy. And damn him for it. Stopping at Artorius’ quarters, she lifted a delicate hand to knock. And then changed her mind. Well, he wasn’t here was he? Politeness was amusing, and a novelty. Eyla didn’t deal in kindness….well, maybe a little bit… With a swish of skirts and a quiet squeak of door, Eyla entered. She hummed quietly, a pleasant tune….until she noticed the roaring fire. Eyla halted sharply, but rather than gasping at her rude entrance…she laughed. It was a pretty sound, falling from her lips in a celebration of femininity, and she shoved the door loudly. When did he return? She hated to admit it, but she was excited! Her pretty features brightened visibly, and she almost ran into the room… And then she saw him. Such a picture of…defeat? She was not sure, and a small frown began to play upon the woman’s forehead. Artorius was sleeping, but he did not look comfortable. He lay atop his furs, and his face gleamed with fevered sweat. His strong cheekbones were paled with fatigue and…illness? Eyla took a step forwards, almost cautious of her movements. The Roman Commander did not look well…not well at all, and Eyla wondered whether she should be here at all? Would she be caught, and accused of causing this…horrible scene? Eyla glanced backwards to the door, firmly shut, and bit her lip…but could she leave him? Indeed, she could not. Artorius was not family, nor particularly friend either…but he had attempted to save her soul by offering her an ‘honest’ position in the fortress… Honest? It didn’t sit well with Eyla. Not at all. Eyla approached the bed slowly, knowing she would regret it! Damn Roman! Why could he not take care of himself? Was it that difficult? She was a maid, not a bloody healer…and yet she found herself considering something sinful. Sinful? Humph! It would have been sinful…if she’d wanted to feel him between her thighs right now. But no… Breathing in deeply, her bosom rose in her bodice and she leant over the Commander. Her small hands reached to the bottom of his tunic, and she began to tug it upwards. Slowly, hesitantly. Her only thought was to make him more comfortable…but god, how would this appear? She knew exactly how it would appear! And for the first time in her life, she was innocent… |
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