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| July 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Apr 3 2010, 09:33 PM (2,356 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | Apr 11 2010, 03:43 PM Post #136 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Mon Jul 28, 2008 8:40 pm Adian What the hell am I doing anyway? I have just proposed to a woman I hardly know, and have almost promised her the world....as though Thorn had never existed. How could I do that to her? Adian's mind became Fogged with thoughts...notions rather...a feeling that he was leading Tatiana on which was unfair to her. He had done the same to Fiona. Was it because he had loved Thorn so completely, and so faithfully that he wanted to find another to take her place? Under Tatiana's touches and kiss, Adian felt himself shiver....A betrayal of the heart he had promised to his love. He moaned Tatiana's name, and he heard her respond...
...felt her shiver in response as he feasted on her skin. The way her head tipped back to allow him more. He took more greedily as her eyes closed. Tatiana shifted her body to get closer, softly gasping. Damn it all! What kind of jerk am I?! I'd rather kill myself then take advantage of her though she is willing... Adian completed his kiss, and stepped back from her. She was too sweet to just take advantage of which was exactly what he was doing. With soft dark heather gray eyes, Adian placed his hands on her shoulders, pushed back a few strands of copper colored hair, then looked down and sadly turned away. The young man's arms went around his lean athletic body, and refused to look at her. With a heavy sigh, Adian raised his head as if searching for answers on the ceiling of the room, "I am such a heel, Tatiana....I..." He turned to her, "I want to marry you, but...this was moving too fast and I am sorry...Thorn is barely gone and here I am promising my heart to another...." Looking over at the sword near the wall, Adian tried to think of a way to make Tatiana understand what he was feeling right now. "I want to marry you, but first I have to do a period of grieving for my lost love...Thorn meant the world to me, and I feel that I owe her some time of respect..." His eyes went back to hers. "I want to wait until I know you better....I just...I would not have felt right taking advantage of you," An honest light shone in his eyes which sorrow had clouded over again. He could feel Thorn's presence in the room, and it gave him comfort. Okay so he was babbling, and there were other things to get done before night fell... First was to find a make shift grave site, someplace Thorn would have loved and set up a monument to her.... Her sword. He had noticed other swords in the field: men who had died in battle, so why should she not be honored like that as well? |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 11 2010, 03:44 PM Post #137 |
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Author: Kay Date: Tue Jul 29, 2008 1:52 am Guinevere The crazed girl was now making bizarre movements with her hand and then she grabbed Juna by the ankle.
Guinevere moved around a little so that Mona was hidden from the view of the others by the princess' body. "We have to do something to shut her up" Guinevere said to Juna. "If our enemies see her madness, it will look bad for my father. Do you have a sleeping draught to knock her out?" |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 11 2010, 03:45 PM Post #138 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Tue Jul 29, 2008 1:15 pm Amadeus
Amadeus knew that it was a lost cause once Merlin spoke the first time. He glowered bitterly as Barbattus flogged a dying horse by stepping forward after the magician, thinking he might be able to back track pathetically now. The damage, however, Amadeus knew, had been done. He knew that if the roles were reversed he would have done precisely that which Merlin had just done now. He would not treat with an incompetent imbecile which is precisely what Barbattus had made them all appear to be. His grey eyes were flinty as he looked at Merlin, taking in that sliver of a smile and knowing the threat that lurked behind it. Tensing his angular jaw, the Optio stalked forward around Barbattus, willing to leave the man there, more than happy to leave him there. He did not speak a word as he walked right in front of Merlin, grey eyes fixed on his horse. He clicked his tongue and threw himself into the saddle with a hiss of pain as the old scar on his thigh gave a protesting twinge. Amadeus grabbed the reins and turned his horse abruptly, clicking his tongue as he urged his horse onwards, not ordering his men to follow simply because he would be more than happy for the woads to put a hole in them all. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 11 2010, 03:48 PM Post #139 |
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Author: TwistOfShadows Date: Tue Jul 29, 2008 2:39 pm Ceinwyn and Nolan
Nolan watched the patience ebb from Merlin. The Woads had allowed the Optio and his minions a moment’s peace to talk, negotiate, and what had they achieved? Nothing. They could barely negotiate amongst themselves, and that made them weak. Where was the famous rigidity of the Roman hierarchy? Nolan sneered as the Optio and Barbattus threw insults at each other, and raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. In truth, he had expected them to be clever, to be sly and attempt manipulation. The military leader had witnessed Artorius in battle, and that commander was not lightly underestimated. Arthur commanded with mere presence, and this coward Optio had much to learn. There was a deep set respect for Arthur. His mother was a Briton, he had British blood in his veins and it made him strong. But this Optio? He had hidden within the hut like a limp and frightened dog. Nolan could not respect cowardice. He killed cowards, and Rome was cowardice. As they left the hut, Nolan glanced momentarily at Merlin. He recognized the power of that thin smile, an age old mockery that did not die… The Optio jumped onto his horse. He did not attempt argument, and Nolan was not surprised. They appeared fools, all of them, and now they were held at arrow point. The Roman did not even order his men to follow. Ah, injured pride perhaps? Arthur would surely not send this fool again to do his bidding… Turning slowly to Merlin, Nolan’s jaw was hard. His green eyes looked distant, unaffected, and he spoke roughly. “Rome grows more pathetic every day. The gods must surely laugh at their…talents for negotiation…” The Woad looked to the remaining Romans around them, to Tristan, and drummed his fingers against the leather of his dagger hilt. “…And yet the slaves still obey them.” Ceinwyn’s voice was cold from the side, and her green eyes focused upon Tristan, the scout. She did not care if he paid her heed, she did not care for his reaction. Not truly. She spoke harshly, and her tongue spat each syllable with vehemence. The red-haired Woad growled. She had not heard their conversation within the hut, but her hatred for Sarmatians had never weakened. Her fingers trembled at her side, and she turned to walk closer to Nolan, standing beside him. Eyla Eyla did not like the infirmary. It had a rotten smell about it, with an unsubtle hint of herb and tonic. The harlot was born lowly, but she had very high standards. The room was not pretty enough. How could injured men be cured and comforted here? It seemed absolute folly. Indeed, she came to acquire herbs to halt her seasoning, but she did not like the task. The nuns and healers knew her career, and they did not agree that a woman should be taking the power of God into her own hands. But she did. Eyla did not fancy pregnancy, nor growing fat. She had money to earn, a reputation to uphold. Bearing children would rudely interrupt both tasks, and so the woman brazenly entered the infirmary. Her soft skirts whispered around her ankles, and her golden skin was shadowed by the dull light inside. The woman looked ahead, confidently and almost challenging anyone to send her away. Eyla had endured awkward conversations with the healers on numerous occasions, and indeed, she must argue her case. Most ardently. Would she be expected to appear humble to God’s word and will? The woman pouted coltishly. God should reward her for making his sons happy…not condemn the perfect swell of her feminine bosom.
Oh, she knew that voice. She recognized the masculine drawl. Rough…with a generous helping of charm. Eyla looked up ahead, and was not disappointed. The famous First Knight, and reputable lover of all the virgins in the fortress…Lancelot. Eyla smiled when she saw him, and it was a pretty smile. Her dark eyes glittered up at him…and then she noticed it. He had one eye. Gods, but the other was sealed shut with a hideous and black bruise. Eyla did not hide her surprise; she halted sharply in her steps and wrinkled her nose at him. Lancelot had such a pretty face, why must he mark it so? The harlot was bemused by the clumsiness…and carelessness…of men.
Eyla stared blankly at the bruise on Lancelot’s face, barely registering the shy smile that Gawain offered her. Eyla had bedded Lancelot, many times, but Gawain? He could have been a new challenge, he could be pursued. The woman glanced quickly to Gawain, and she beamed a flirtatious smile at him. Her eyes wondered down his tall and handsome figure…before turning back to Lancelot. To the bruise. It was bloody horrible, and she wrinkled her nose again, before shaking her head in dismay. The woman stood small before him, and she…dragged her eyes away from the injury. She blinked lazily up at him, her long eyelashes brushing her cheekbones suggestively. Reaching one hand into her hair, she curled a long tendril around one finger…and pulled it taut over her exposed bosom. ’Something for our injured commander?’ It was the first time Eyla had ever heard consideration in Lancelot’s voice, concern for another…and it was amusing. Eyla laughed sweetly, and then pouted her lips. “My darling Lancelot, I do believe you are prying into another’s business. How very naughty of you…” Eyla spun the words like honey, and a teasing smile played upon her mouth. She smirked up at him, and twisted her hair around her finger. Toying, playing. She spoke again. “Come now, you know my nature. Everything will always cost you, information included, and your currency is always so sweet…” The woman suggested, she flirted. Would he take the bait? She reached a hand forward, and laid it gently against his chest. Her small fingers curled into the tunic, but it was not demanding. Not truly… |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 11 2010, 03:49 PM Post #140 |
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Author: linnet Date: Tue Jul 29, 2008 5:13 pm Juna
Juna was stopped in her tracks, literally, as she began to walk toward the hut where Merlin, Nolan, and the men from the fort were doing who knew what. The lunatic woman, who she had just finished trying to keep alive, grabbed the healer’s ankle and held it firmly. Juna’s forward momentum was stopped in mid-step, and she staggered awkwardly to keep from falling forward. She gave a look of annoyance to Guinevere who had moved to prevent others from seeing the scene being caused by the lunatic. Juna set her jaw and narrowed her eyes, as she reached down to pry Mona’s fingers from her ankle. “Let go, damn it,” she cursed angrily, addressing the hand itself. The crazed woman’s grip yielded only when Juna dug her fingernails deep into each clenched finger and peeled the hand away. She stood looking scornfully downward at the harpy. There was no sense responding to the woman’s ranting words. Juna believed Mona was far beyond comprehending. Although it was difficult to hold back after being called a crone, and being ‘challenged?’ for Merlin. A hard slap would have been Juna’s response of choice, were the woman in her right mind.
No, Juna shook her head at Guinevere’s words. The healer was done with this case. “Knock her out however you like,” she answered disgustedly. She moved farther away from the berserk Woad, reached in her bag, and took out a small jar of liquid. “This numbs the body and the mind. Give her however much you want. It will either make her unconscious or kill her.” She handed the potion to Guinevere and moved even farther away. Juna couldn’t be bothered right now with a dying zombie. Merlin was coming out of the hut, looking more regal and imperious than ever, wearing a grin like a fox fresh out of the henhouse. The Woad warriors responded as one to his signal to aim at the Roman delegation. And the Roman leader was mounting his horse. This was exciting, and she smiled slightly in appreciation of the dramatic and Woad favoring scene. She also cast a look toward Neeria to see how the traitor was reacting to the turn of events. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 11 2010, 03:52 PM Post #141 |
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Author: Lancelot Date: Tue Jul 29, 2008 7:07 pm Lancelot As Lancelot's one eye gazed admiringly at Eyla - oh yes, he'd been there before - he heard Gawain grump past him.
"Yes, you will," Lancelot murmured in reply, although not loud enough for the knight to hear him. His attention was now on Eyla - and aside from the pleasant view her countenance provided, she might have some information Lancelot was interested in. He also noticed the harlot's up and down flirtatious look at Gawain. Perhaps she'd never had the other man. Ah well, there was time enough for that later. Lancelot was the one here now, and he needed information that the very easily distracting woman in front of him must have. After all, she was supposed to be caring for Arthur's quarters - surely she'd seen the man? Gawain could find the nun; Lancelot would get back over to his little group just as soon as he'd finished here.
The first knight smiled elegantly, his teeth flashing in the grime of his face. He shoved his hair back again, the curls whorling around his head now that they were drying, and his eyes...er, eye, followed the motion of Eyla's hand as she toyed with a piece of hair against her bosom. He noted the slight look of distaste on her pretty face as she stared at his injury. The shiner was going to be spectular. Fucking Galahad.
Lancelot laughed, a deep rumble that echoed through his chest when the woman grasped lightly at his tunic. He reached out his own hand and took the curl that she'd been twirling into his fingers, and pulled at it. Just a bit hard. Hard enough to promise something that might come later. "I am the first knight, and his second, no matter what that Optio might believe. Surely you think I have a right to any information you might have...dear?" He dropped the hair and traced a light fingernail over the edge of her collarbone, and twisted his mouth in a wry grin. "Come come, sweeting, let's have some true gossip." She knows something - and I'll be damned if I let this one charm me out of information. Especially when I am her equal. He dropped his hand and cocked a hip, looking at her as best he could with the swollen eye not wanting to cooperate. He knew he looked a mess, what with his leathers too big and the rest of his clothing probably torn and dirty - fucking Galahad! - but he still carried big swords and he was gods damned Lancelot. And he'd had this one already. More than once. And goodness, but she smelled.... like incense. Or lavender. Things that reminded Lancelot of Arthur's quarters. He frowned without meaning to. "I haven't seen you about in a while, lovely one. Whatever have you been doing with yourself - surely caring for Arthur can't be that exciting, especially now, him being so pitiably injured and abed." Tell me, Eyla. I may have a good reward planned for you if you comply. ....maybe. Lancelot licked his suddenly dry lips. There was no doubt the harlot was gorgeous and he had certainly spent plenty of pleasurable nights between her plump thighs. But...something about his normal desire for her seemed...off. What in the bloody fuck did that mean? Perhaps it was the injuries. Perhaps he was just too tired. Lancelot let a pathetic laugh escape, and rubbed his hand over his face, hissing as he pressed on his bruised eye. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 11 2010, 03:54 PM Post #142 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Tue Jul 29, 2008 9:08 pm Arthur Silence filled the small space between them for a moment and Darya shifted Arthur’s hand to rest his palm just above the bodice line of her dress. Her skin felt as soft as fine Persian silk as Arthur’s fingers slightly feathered over Darya’s exposed flesh; that coupled with her familiar musky earthen scent which readily permeated his nostrils nearly had Arthur forgetting….
….Arthur’s fingers flexed over his wound and on Darya’s skin as he listened to her words; his troubled eyes briefly ticked to her arm at the mention of a scratch there…..the ease the Roman had allowed himself to feel had been fleeting…..Arthur set his jaw….the bone nearly cracked under the pressure as anger instantly replaced his earlier contentment. Merlin and Guinevere were here inside the fortress walls? How could Scipio have allowed such a breach in their defenses? Annoyance flared in Arthur’s brilliant green eyes, but not at Darya….anger and disappointment in the officers he’d left in charge while away on the mission. And he would damn well have a word with the Optio about this matter the moment the man returned tonight…..whether peace was reached anew or not. Merlin could have taken one more precious thing away from Arthur….the Woad leader could have seriously injured Darya or even taken her life….and Arthur had not been here to protect her. Again. Anger twisted over to guilt and Arthur’s fervent gaze softened again allowing Darya to continue….there was more? Arthur was far too focused on Darya’s mouth, and what other revelations she was now poised to reveal, to realize that she’d shifted his hand down to cover her abdomen.
Please God, I beg you…. All that Arthur could imagine was that Darya was about to share with him that she suffered from disease or some other complication that would take her from him. That God could only be punishing Arthur Castus for his sins against His teachings….punishing him by taking Darya from this world. Arthur suddenly felt a flood of nausea rise up inside of him and was forced to swallow roughly to keep the bile at bay. His mind was churning with what must be done…send for the best medicus in the Roman Empire….pray for God’s forgiveness….pray…..Take me, not her….I beg you.
What? Arthur’s pulse was suddenly rumbling in his ears. And for a brief moment, his gaze broke from Darya to scour their surroundings expecting to find Isolde in the room with them on the corner of this very bed. His hand moved from where it covered his wound and threaded in his own thick hair…..and his fingers knotted at the roots as Arthur began to ‘comprehend’ Darya’s cryptic words…....we....need you…. I was not so well lately…. Three souls meant three……he silently calculated……stomach instantly twisting and churning…..head throbbing and heart pounding…. …..his hand dropped back down to cover his wound despite the fact that Arthur could no longer feel anything but…..pure shock. Arthur then stared at Darya, wide-eyed and uncharacteristically tongue-tied. Fortunately for him….or perhaps her…the Sarmatian’s gaze had fallen to their joined hands over her stomach and thus Darya did not see the shock and distress that had flashed through Arthur’s green eyes at the realization…..she was with child. His child?? His mouth opened; nothing came out; mouth snapped shut again. Is it my child?? No, this could not be happening….not now, not while Arthur was likely to die on a battlefield any given day. He was not ready for a family. He did not deserve his own family as he had taken too many lives and destroyed too many other families. And he had not even given thought to marriage at this point in his life…Hell…Arthur had purposely hidden the intimate nature of his relationship with Darya from nearly everyone in order to protect her. And now he was faced with the need to shield his lover and ‘child’ from harm. Arthur did the only thing he could in response; he gently squeezed at Darya’s fingers and briefly shut his eyes in silent prayer for God’s mercy, guidance and for strength. “Are you certain?” Arthur whispered at last, surprise quite evident in his voice and green eyes filled with concern as he looked to her pale expression. Perhaps it is only an illness….he would have Neeve or a Roman medicus examine Darya to be sure of her condition. Yes, that would be the best course….and deal with….ohGodhelpme…the possibility of becoming a parent once it had been confirmed. Arthur’s hand then gently cupped at Darya’s abdomen…as if he might feel whether a child grew in her womb or not. He knew that he should show only joy at this news…for Darya’s sake. But certainly this had to be the troublesome matter that had been nagging at the Roman’s subconscious for days now. And somehow all that Arthur could see was Lancelot’s face….wearing a broad smirk at the news to cover much darker thoughts….and accusations. I am blessed and I am cursed. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 11 2010, 03:55 PM Post #143 |
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Author: sabor ice Date: Wed Jul 30, 2008 2:22 am Mordred & Ash
Mordred gave an indignant snort at Barbattus' imbecilic bravado. The Captain had an unruly tenaciousness that even the Gods would not favor him for. His talent for mindless underminment and loose verbatim was intellectually obscure, a pompous idiocy that insulted one's intelligence. Barbattus was damaging to their reputation, to their image - Rome's image - and the fact that his obvious taste for being an unsavory liability had still earned him a place on this mission was incredibly irritating. He had successfully made them all appear as inferior, bumbling simpletons before Merlin and his people. Even the Sarmatian slave seemed to retain better sense. How now must the enemy view Rome? Despite the knight's bemusement toward Merlin's unwillingness to participate any longer, he found he could not fault the magician, for he would've done the same. The cause was lost. The chance to make any kind of progress between themselves and the Woads had been sullied beyond redemption. There was nothing left to be done - for now.
The dark knight listened no longer. Without a word he made a beeline for Lucifer, hoisting himself up into the saddle with one fluid movement, before directing the black steed to follow after Amadeus toward Badon. Ash gave a quiet snort of disgust, his nearly flint black eyes following the movements of the Romans as each of them fled the scene. What cowards and fools made up Rome's finest. The Woad found it astonishing they managed to dress themselves let alone orchestrate any will or deed. Ash did not quite understand Merlin's decision to let them leave, but he was certain the leader must have had an agenda, and so it was not questioned. The Woad glanced down at Eala from the corner of his eye, a wry smile touching his features at the savage determination on the young girl's face, her hand still wrapped about the hilt of her tiny knife. She was assertive and waiting for any chance to prove herself. Her spirit was more impressive than most half her age, himself included. His hand dropped from its place at the back of Eala's neck and wrapped around his front - palm against his bleeding side - as he turned and paced away a few steps. Mona was still moaning like an animal dying, pathetically scrambling to reach out and keep hold onto Juna. The healer appeared annoyed and nearly expired over the entire ordeal as she managed to slip away and join Guinevere nearby. Ash side-glanced Mona with a bored look, unceremoniously hooking the side of his foot up under her ribcage, using minimal effort to shove her trembling form aside. She was a traitor after all, so why should he care how she was treated? He passed by the blonde train-wreck and weaved between some others, disappearing behind the crowd to find a place to sit and rest until his wounds could be looked after. He wasn't feeling well at all. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 11 2010, 03:56 PM Post #144 |
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Author: Darya Date: Wed Jul 30, 2008 12:17 pm Darya Silence. There was nothing but silence in the room all for sudden and Darya could have sworn that not even their breathing could be heard. The female Sarmatian did not dare to look at Arthur. Her dark gaze focused on the Roman’s and her hand resting on her stomach… She had been so afraid of this moment, had imagined all kinds of possible reactions coming from her lover…even this total silence. But now that it was there…the moment of truth as well as the silence, the dark-haired tensed and was at a total loss about whether or not she should do or say something. She could sense Arthur’s tension, which only added to her own, and blinked a few times, not even daring to brush a tiny strand of hair out of her face, which had fallen across her cheek and was tickling her skin. Normally, she would most likely have not paid any attention to this…but right now, she was ever so aware of this little detail. And all that because her senses were at high alert…attempting to replace her eyes in catching an additional reaction from Arthur…something other than this…silence…
Finally the silence was broken and Darya closed her eyes, a corner of her mouth twitching slightly…rather sadly…as she did so. She recalled the night Isolde and her had discussed the possible reasons for her ailment… Gods, and she definitely recalled how she had felt the panic embrace her body when the Irish healer had come to the final conclusion. And that strange chill threatened to crawl down her spine yet again. The dark-haired took a deep breath and let her hand cover Arthur’s, which was cupping her abdomen. His voice was loaded with surprise, understandably of course…as the news had been a surprise for her as well back then. And yet Darya tried to scrutinize those three words Arthur had spoken and the way he had spoken them for more… Was he annoyed? Or feeling as lost as she was? The woman swallowed roughly, preparing herself to do her part in breaking the silence… “Isolde and I went through all symptoms…and I pestered her for hours to make sure that this…was the only logic and possible answer…”, the Sarmatian replied quietly, still not daring to meet her lover’s emerald gaze, “…and she was so very certain in the end…so certain that I…that I am…that…” The woman’s voice trailed off and she let her head loll back, leaning it heavily against Arthur’s shoulders. “Gods, I cannot even say it…I cannot even say it…”, Darya hawed and bit her lower lip painfully to silence and calm herself for a moment. And only then did she finally meet the Roman’s gaze with her dark one. Forgotten was the Woad problem…and even her injured or dead countrymen for now. All that counted for her in this very moment was how she – how they – could deal with this new situation. New to her at least…for the Sarmatian had no idea if Arthur had ever been confronted with this before. Deep inside, she doubted it for some reasons…yet she could not be sure, could she? Then the dark-haired attempted a smile to ease things…but she failed miserably. She should be happy about this, should she not? It was the natural way of life, right? No matter how complicated things sometimes were between the man and the woman. Yet Darya would not even be able to describe how she was feeling if asked. She was lost, she was afraid…and more, which she simply could not put a finger on. Brushing her free hand over her pale face, the dark Sarmatian sighed quietly and turned her head at bit to be even closer to Arthur. “I am so not prepared for this, Arthur…”, she whispered and pressed her lips into a thin line as she tried to draw strength from her lover’s eyes and his nearness. Strength she knew she would need so dearly…no matter what the Roman would do or say now. Arthur of all people certainly knew that a child was something that had never been a topic or possibility in her strange life… …until now. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 11 2010, 03:58 PM Post #145 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Wed Jul 30, 2008 7:10 pm Merlin and Tristan
“Ridiculous, is it not?” Though the rhetorical question was in response to Nolan and Ceinwyn’s words, Merlin aimed his barbed answer at the Sarmatian slave who was now warily and scowlingly urging his horse into motion in Scipio’s wake. The scout’s eyes met Merlin’s only briefly, but lingered on Ceinwyn’s for a second longer- and then, just as he passed her, he spat contemptuously on the ground. Ahhh…his pride rebelled against that jibe. Good. Perhaps one day, if the Gods willed it, he and his countrymen would rebel against the Romans all together and do some of the Woads work for them. Or failing that, maybe Merlin’s warriors would have the satisfaction of spilling all of their blood someday. Foolish, brave, slaves of the empire. Merlin turned his head as he spotted a movement out of the corner of his eye and gave Juna, who had just returned to the main group, a small, almost cocky half-smile of satisfaction with the way things were going. The Romans were leaving, defeated without even a scuffle- and now the Woads could make their final disappearance, into the woods and back to their village. No one else would be sent from the fort so late in the day, and by tomorrow, the Woads would be virtually undetectable again. Mission rather neatly accomplished. “Give them a warning shot to hurry them- at his feet.” Merlin spoke to one of the warriors that stood nearest him, on the other side of him from Nolan, nodding towards Barbattus, the one who had seemed least eager to leave… |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 11 2010, 04:00 PM Post #146 |
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Author: sabor ice Date: Thu Jul 31, 2008 1:00 am Alina
His audacity was ebbing at her defenses. She could feel her walls - walls she never realized she had - starting to crumble all around her. The more Alina felt exposed, the more she pulled away. The more she felt vulnerable, the further she ventured into a state of denial. Kolya seemed to see that, and so he continued to push her. He continued to push her, and she didn't want to give in. She didn't want to let him inside because she still loved Galahad. For someone who had always been level-headed, who had always been realistic, it just seemed implausible to her to love two men at once. Her heart was a battleground. He situated himself on the step behind her and placed a hand at the nape of her neck, a simple gesture, but relatively intimate at that. A familiar touch, but unwelcome under the circumstances. She shrugged his hand away. She felt no comfort, only uncertainty, over their closeness, but she was powerless to escape. Divine intervention had seen to her prompt immobilization when she twisted her ankle. The woman snorted quietly and hunkered forward, joining her hands beneath her legs and resting the side of her face against her lap. "It's funny...I always thought it'd be different somehow..." she remarked wryly. "...life." Nothing is what it seems, nothing is as it should be...
Alina lifted her head and threw an incredulous glance back at the former knight. Again with the pushing. She slowly shook her head to herself and looked away again, shrugging her shoulders up to her ears a moment. "What do you want me to say, Kolya? Do you want me to say I want you around? That I need you? That I love you? Tell me what you want me to say, and I'll say it," she said quietly, brow creased sadly. "It won't change anything. Whatever you want Kolya, I can't give you." |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 11 2010, 04:00 PM Post #147 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Thu Jul 31, 2008 4:38 am Mari Mari didn't understand the worry and darkness in Milan's life. She would never understand it until it presented itself in whatever form it was bound to do. How could she understand it? Even when bad things happened in her own life her very unique disposition enabled Mari to put a gentler spin on things. And if she cuold not put a gentler spin on something then she promptly pushed it to the back of her mind, she refused to think about it and in time she would explain it away in her own gentle manner. Milan's soft lips touched hers and Mari nodded her head, signalling that she had seen him agree to tell her what it was that terrified him before it was too late. She didn't know what it might be too late for but she was certain that something from his past was not quite passed and that someday someone would come looking for him. As the young man embraced her, Mari let her head loll forward and she smiled, letting time slide by at an easy pace, without worry and without consideration, just for a little while. Milan kissed her neck. She slid her hands up his shoulders and idly brushed her fingers up against the hair at the nape of his neck, her eyes shut. A soft murmur of a song whispered from her pursed lips after a while until finally Mari sat back on her heels and looked up at Milan, her expression bright and all vestige of bleakness disappeared as if it had never been there. "Come on - if we start now we might have our own little place in a few days." the innocent suggested, gesturing to the debris from the house that would need to be cleared. They wuold have to get someone in to fix the roof - it was something that neither of them had experience with, but Mordred's foul deed had left Mari financially capable of affording this and if it meant that she and Milan could have a quiet life, a peaceful existence together then it was money well spent. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 11 2010, 04:03 PM Post #148 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Thu Jul 31, 2008 9:14 am Neeria and Malcus Barbattus Neeria strained to hear what was going on inside the hut but she was unable to make out what was being said. She scanned the throng of people, her people. Some looked bruised and weary, others looked fierce and angry. Neeria felt all of that and more. The reality of the loss of her husband, Mikel, was falling down on her like a dark cloud, weighting her with a heavy sorrow. She felt weary and tired. Neeria looked over at the clump on the ground that was once her friend, Mona. Clearly, she’d gone mad and was now laying there, discarded and shunned by her own people, like a stray dog. Then there was Ceinwyn, another victim to what appeared to be insanity. What had happened to her? What demons tormented her? What kind of life, of existence was that? Again, Neeria looked around at the faces and wondered – who exactly is the enemy here? The blue people were so ready to blindly kill her, their own, without knowing facts? What had they become? Savages, like the Romans called them? She watched the blank expressions of the assassins as they strained their bows, waiting for the order to cut down the Romans. And Tristan. Her gaze slid over back to the hut but she could not see the Sarmatian in the darkness of the small structure. Neeria looked back on her people. Some of them were so young. Neeria had fought with most of them and for most of them all of her life, yet they were ready to kill her without even giving her a chance to speak? They were easily convinced that her loyalties were that frivolous? Already they had been proven wrong by Guinevere! But turning on her and taking the word of a Roman over her own? They disgusted her. All of them. Anger flashed in her dark eyes. It was she that could not trust them! Maybe they were animals, creatures of the wood, simply living for the kill. The warrior sighed heavily when suddenly, she heard Merlin’s voice. Neeria watched as Merlin came from the hut, the one they called ‘optio’, behind him.
The grey eyed Roman exited the hut, as did the ‘other’ dark knight. The optio mounted his horse without a word and sinister-looking knight followed suit as they both led their horses from the clearing. Neeria’s eyes were on Merlin. Her leader. She would soon be united with him again so that they may talk and sort things out. She was hopeful about that. Malcus watched as Scipio walked out of the hut like a mutt with his tail between his legs. Giving up! Defeated without even an effort to talk with Merlin, with his lacky, Mordred, in tow. How the optio had risen to his level of command baffled Malcus. How Rome would have rewarded such a defeatist was beyond Malcus’ realm of comprehension. Arthur would hear of Scipio’s cowardice and Mordred’s slacky.
Malcus finally left the hut, catching another whiff of fertile earth which was Merlin, and walked over to Falco. As Tristan urged his mount, the scout suddenly spat on the ground at the feet of a feral, rabid-looking woad woman. Good for him, Malcus thought. That must have angered Merlin because before Barbattus could raise his foot to the stirrup, Merlin gave the order that the captain did not want to hear.
Almost instantaneously, before Merlin seemed to even get the last syllable out his mouth, Barbattus heard the shattering snap of bow that had been stretched to near breaking point, followed by the screaming hiss of an airborne arrow. Malcus barely had time to curse when the arrow impaled the ground just beside his right foot. The captain was vaguely aware that he was actually impressed by the efficiency of the command and action. Barbattus realized that there was nothing to prevent Merlin from striking both Malcus and Tristan down, shooting them both right in the back. Especially since Scipio and the knight had deserted them. They were on their own. Acting instinctively, Malcus grabbed Neeria around the waist and literally threw the small woman over his saddle, climbing up right behind her. Pinning the startled woman against him, he yelled at the magician. “We’ll just take back what we offered until you’re ready to talk.” Neeria never saw it coming. Suddenly, she was swept off her feet and violently slung back onto a horse, the impact crushing her side. Without having to look, she knew her wound had reopened. The pain was blinding. “NO!!!!” she screamed, panicking. “NO!!!!!” Hot tears burned her eyes as the ripped wound scorched her through to her soul. Her breathing became labored as Neeria began to kick her legs and flail her arms, trying desperately to break free. Falco reared but the Roman held fast to both the woad and the reigns of the frightened horse. Neeria tried to bite and scratch, but the man held her tightly against his breast as the mount finally gathered his legs under him and sped through the trees. Neeria lolled her head to the side and wretched. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 12 2010, 09:07 PM Post #149 |
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Author: Kay Date: Thu Jul 31, 2008 10:22 am Guinevere
Juna handed Guinevere a small jar, filled with liquid. The princess took the potion, and then watched as Juna moved away. Turning her gaze back to the pathetic, bleeding woman who had once been a proud Woad warrior, Guinevere advanced toward Mona and forced the potion down her throat. That done, the princess stood back and waited for the infusion to take effect. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 12 2010, 09:08 PM Post #150 |
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Author: linnet Date: Thu Jul 31, 2008 8:50 pm Gawain and Mother Lavinia The blond knight’s eyes rested on Eyla just long enough to register the once over appraisal and suggestive smile she gave him. He was long past being naïve enough to read anything into it other than a business calling card. Still, there was no denying that such a look from a beautiful woman kicked a man’s self-image up a notch. And it was doubly satisfying because Gawain considered Eyla to be a whore out of his league; a confection reserved for the powerful and influential. Her quickly re-focused attention on Lancelot confirmed that he was right about the woman’s priorities. He reciprocated with his own evaluating gaze over Eyla’s fine assets, with just the hint of a smile curving one side of his mouth. Then he walked off to fetch Lavinia. His thoughts were pulled to Catherine. How many men had she pleased so far today with a smile much like Eyla’s? How many coins and exotic stories had she received in exchange for everything her smile promised? He tried to shake her from his mind. He’d talked with her exactly twice. She was a prostitute. He was crazy to dwell on her, and he wouldn’t. Then he pictured her happily drawing a map with her finger, and smiling sincerely as she told him about elephants and leopards. The door to what Gawain believed was Lavinia’s office was closed. He knocked. “Go away. I’m busy,” the preoccupied nun demanded. The knight opened the door and intruded only a couple of steps. Lavinia was seated at her desk, with her face nearly buried in the pages of a book lying open in front of her. Gawain attempted to remind the nun that she was needed elsewhere. “Galahad …,” he began. “Oh, it’s you,” Lavinia interrupted sharply, looking up. “Come here and tell me what this says.” She picked up the book and held it as far from her face as her arms would allow, then brought it back right up to her nose, trying to find a point that would bring things into focus. “The devil's small print!” “I can’t read,” the blond knight said apologetically. What was the crazy old healer doing reading a book when Galahad was bleeding and in pain? Gawain decided he’d have to find some other healer in a hurry, since despite all her talk about being the best, Lavinia had apparently lost it. “Of course, you can’t read,” the nun said matter of factly. “Can you count?” Gawain nodded yes. “Good,” Lavinia said. “Tell me how many straight up and down lines this measurement symbol has.” She pointed her gnarled finger at some marks on the page. “Two,” Gawain told her. The old woman’s eyesight must be awful, he thought, since two lines were easy for him to see. The nun closed the book, filled a small spoon twice with some mixture that she deposited onto a piece of cloth, then folded the cloth into a compact square. This she added to her large pockets, already filled with the supplies she needed to take care of Galahad. “Let’s go,” she said, nearly pushing Gawain out the door in front of her. “You should be ashamed of yourself, corrupting such a young girl. Have you no morals at all?” The knight was pondering an answer to her accusations about Fiona when Lavinia caught sight of Lancelot and the fallen woman, Eyla. “Mother Mary and Joseph!” she cried. “Now my infirmary is being turned into a brothel.” Marching resolutely to confront the offending pair with no hesitation at interrupting them, Lavinia took the folded cloth and plastered it against Lancelot’s battered eye. “Hold that compress to your eye. It will help,” she ordered. Turning to Eyla, the nun just shook her head. “I’m in no mood to lecture you today, madam. I already have someone else waiting to be chastised. You’ll receive what you came for when I finish with the Sarmatians. Try to stay away from my patients while you wait." |
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