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| July 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Apr 3 2010, 09:33 PM (2,360 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | Apr 9 2010, 10:34 PM Post #91 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Thu Jul 17, 2008 10:02 pm Adian His mind wondered over the memories of a recent past. A past in which he had shared love, given love and had been taught how to live and love life. Thorn was the free spirit and she had opened his heart to a myriad of feelings he never had known he had. She had loved him without question...though after he had seen her with another, he felt she had never quite given herself fully to him. That her free spirit would not let her settle for just one love. Then there was the child she carried. Adian's eyes closed blocking out the view on the other side of the window...trying to picture the son or daughter they would have raised. Even now that he had asked Tatiana to become engaged to him, Adian wondered if he could ever fully let Thorn go. It felt like he had been through so much in the past few weeks: the capture by the woads, Juna whom he never forgot, his freedom...the battle...his injury....Fiona. He had not forgotten their kiss...their friendship. Where had Fiona gone? Was she alright? She was a woad, and gods help her if any Roman found out...tonight he'd go out to find her, and take care of some unfinished business. His life was a blur. The young man's mind came back to the present, and he had glanced over his shoulder briefly to see Tatiana looking at him over the rim of her mug. Aye. He could find it in his heart to love her just as he had Thorn, but it'd take time. How long, he didn't know, but eventually, he'd love Tatiana. For now he liked her and wanted time to get to know her better. There was enough time before Spring to do just that...
"You are welcome, Tatiana," His voice was soft as he looked at the young woman near the fire. "You are welcome to all that I have, except for Thorn's clothing and belongings. Those are hers..." He left out a heavy sigh. He'd store them in a chest at the foot of the bed, he decided...her sword included. After he asked Tatiana to marry him, he saw the look of happiness in her eyes, and hoped that he could find the power to keep her happy...
Still a bit too polite and perhaps a bit too prim and proper for a stable hand....a lot of high breeding in this one...Well she hangs around me enough, she'll loosen up... He liked Tatiana, but well bred women...even ones that acted like it, made him nervous a tad. He liked them romantic, but slightly naughty. Well, Adian decided that Tatiana had the Romance part down pat, but what if he went back to secretly hunting meat for the tavern, and anonymously doing good for others? He hoped he could keep it from her. He had been in trouble a long time ago for doing good, and he was afraid of getting in trouble again for hunting meat for the tavern and doing good for others anonymously... Adian thought he saw her blush, and he almost laughed, but instead turned back toward the scene outside. So much to think about and sort out... He jumped as he felt a tiny hand on his arm, and the other on his shoulder. Turning his head, Adian looked down at Tatiana, smiling slightly, watching her move closer to kiss his cheek.
An eyebrow raised at her statement. She really saw that in him? He had yelled at her. A large calloused hand went to her face and cupped her cheek letting his thumb run over the soft skin, "I have never met anyone like you, Tatiana. I can't even begin to describe you....you suddenly just popped into my life when things were at their worst. You seem to have that knack for looking at life like some sort of dream...a way of blocking out bad things..." He stumbled over the words as if confused. Adian shivered at something Tatiana said...that it was as if Thorn had brought them together. Could she be right? Ione
"I liked the time as well, Mirtha..." She had to laugh with him, but somewhere in that laugh of his was an uneasiness she could not place. Perhaps they were both moving too fast. The fact scared her that she really did not know Mirtha that well, and that perhaps she was looking for someone to take Javier's place. Inwardly she shook her head: There'd be no one like Javier. Ever. He had been the first man to love her completely, not caring about her status at the fort. Inside, Ione felt a twinge of guilt as she recalled how she had vowed to love Javier...she still wore the ring he had placed there, and she swore she'd never remove it. Not even for Mirtha. Ione was not quite sure that she could love Mirtha the way she had loved Javier, but just having him close made her feel safe... Mirtha's hand brushed hers as he took his cloak from her. The young weaver felt conflicted where Mirtha was concerned: She had been raped twice in her life...if Mirtha got drunk enough, would he be the same as they had been? So far, he had not hurt her....Ione had to go and see a healer and talk over various methods and herbs for stopping Mirtha from drinking to access.... Neeve? I wonder if she'd help me with this? As Ione reached out to touch his arm, a look of surprise had come over his face as if this had been the first time she had touched him, and she backed away a bit not knowing what to make of the look....the look that changed into a frown...
After the woad attacked her, Ione realized just how dangerous things were getting with woads and other enemies about. With Javier gone, she felt unsecure...alone and afraid. She could only nod at Mirtha's response. Somehow, Ione felt that she was destined to spend life alone. She could see it in the way he looked down, and had mumbled his answer. Smiling, Ione said, "You don't have to if you don't want to. I cannot force you to do something you are uncomfortable with...." She understood that perhaps he just needed time. She also knew that this was not a time for being naive: She had grown stronger, and more determined, and she'd stay that way. At the thought of Javier, Ione began to rub her stomach which had been a bit queasy. Perhaps it was because she had not eaten, but that she had not had a cycle either and she was sick in the mornings. Ione saw Mirtha's concerned look on his face, and his question made meet his gaze...
Ione looked down at her stomach, then back at Mirtha, "I-I missed my cycle, and my stomach has been a bit jumpy lately....I have been getting sick in the mornings...." Ione turned from Mirtha and looked into the newly stoked fire, her hands still rubbing her stomach. "I am so afraid, Mirtha...I've never been...I mean...I think I am pregnant with Javier's child..." There! It was out! Ione wondered how Mirtha would take the news, and placed her arms about her waiting for him to hit her for not telling him, or just stomping out of the shop. In any case, there were few men at the fort who wanted a woman with a child... ...Bowing her head, Ione's body shook with sobs.... |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 9 2010, 10:47 PM Post #92 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Fri Jul 18, 2008 1:21 pm Amadeus It was hardly bravery or bravado that kept Amadeus meeting Merlin's eyes after the man gave him that look. It was a tenacity that only a true Roman might understand. Amadeus would die than admit fear in the face of a heathen like Merlin in front of all these people. That was not bravery because Amadeus was afraid of Merlin. And rightly so. But he would not admit it - oh no! He did not recognise nor realise that there was silent communications going on between Merlin and the just released men. He glanced up at Mordred giving the man a stiff nod of his head, indicating for him to come forward. He only looked back at Merlin when the woad spoke regarding Tristan.
Perfect. The Optio gave another nod of his head granting this 'comfort' to Merlin. However, when the woad leader went towards the hut door, Scipio looked above his head and lifted his gloved hand ordering Tristan from the hut. Just as he did that Barbattus came forward. Amadeus frowned at the man and followed him inside coming up alongside Malcus. He looked down his narrow nose at the man with a non-chalant expression. "I ordered you outside for a reason Captain. Mordred will accompany me - " he said briskly, beckoning blindly with a movement of his fingers for Mordred to come forward, not taking his eyes off of Malcus except to cast a wary look at Merlin. Amadeus was displeased that Malcus seemed intent on acting against orders, presuming to be in charge despite Arthur so clearly placing his Optio in charge. Of course it would not go unmentioned to Arthur! Oh no - it would be a scathing report that Amadeus would deliver to Arthur with regards his less than exemplary Captain. Galahad Galahad didn't mean to hurt Lancelot all over again. He had gripped onto his arm as a means to secure to himself one person that might defend him against Lavinia. It wasn't that she was an especially horrid woman - she was just ... just... prickly. And she always lectured! And she had bony bloody fingers! Gawain and Lancelot knew that - surely they wouldn't leave him alone with Lavinia - not that.
It was a comfort - but a scant one indeed. Galahad looked up at Gawain and not for the first time he thanked the gods for gifting the fair Knight with copious amounts of patience. It was not a trait that people might associate with Gawain, but where Galahad was concerned the young knight knew he tried and tried and bit and kicked at Gawain's patience all the time and yet he never seemed to lose it. He never seemed to throw his hands up in the air and abandon him. Even when, and Galahad knew this was one of those times, he knew he deserved to be abandonned.
The youngest knight looked up at Lancelot with his mouth hanging open, a drop of blood teetering on the edge of his bottom lip and wavering there though he did not move - just sat staring up at the First Knight in mild disbelief as he turned on the charm... the charm on Lavinia! Was the man cracked? Galahad's hand just recently pried from Lancelot's arm fell limply to his lap and he looked from the Knight to Lavinia then up at Gawain to see if he could shed any light on this. However, when Lancelot started to mock him again the blue-eyed knight gave a defeated snarl and shifted away frmo Lancelot, his head bowed and his brow deeply furrowed. As if things were not shit enough in his life with his girlfriend cheating on him, losing in a fight that he started, getting injured badly enough to be brought to the infirmary and draw the wrath of Lavinia onto his shoulders, he was now having to listen to Lancelot rip the piss out of him. "Prick." he mumbled desolately.
Lavinia was coming. And Fiona tagging along too. Galahad kept his head bowed, pouting childishly as he looked at the palm of his hand on his thigh. He only looked up when he heard Lavinia talk and when he heard what she said it brought about a smile to the young Knight's face. He tried to hold back a snicker but he couldn't - it bubbled from his moist lips and he glanced up at Gawain to see if he found it funny too. It was nice to hear someone giving Lancelot a bit of stick for once! But Galahad's good humour was only to last a short time and Lavinia then turned towards him, fusing him to the bed with the full force of her Christian 'goodness'.
Galahad's intake of breath was almost a gasp. His head snapped up and he parted his lips to defend himself, but the old bat just kept on talking over him - "I'm not... !"
But she put up a good argument. The dark-haired knight didn't look at her at all, instead he looked off to one side in stark disgruntlement over being accused of simpering. His eyes were stony, his fingers about his stomach oozing blood from the wound which did pain awfully - but for some reason Galahad couldn't concentrate on that. He just wanted to throw his hands up in the air and tell the all to leave him alone... Alina would have had it sorted by now. Alina was probably canoodling Kolya right now. Was she going to tend to the old Sarmatian's wounds? Feeling terribly sorry for himself Galahad lowered his head and shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever - I don't care." he muttered and looked up edgeways at Gawain, purposely ignoring Lancelot for his earlier comment about him squealing - "You don't have to stay Gawain. Get back to Neeve." he said quietly and not out of bravery... he just wanted to be on his own now. The harsh facts that Lavinia was the best person to stitch him up, the realisation that Alina was probably going to help Kolya instead of him, the realisation that he had made a gods-damned fool of himself was feeling pretty raw now that the madness was dying down. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 9 2010, 10:48 PM Post #93 |
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Author: Kay Date: Fri Jul 18, 2008 2:26 pm Guinevere The Woad princess shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. She felt uncomfortable standing here with the enemy so close. Her instincts were screaming at her to fight; or to flee; whatever was most prudent. Instead she moved back to stand beside Juna. Mona was still on the ground and Guinvevere glanced at the crazed girl briefly, before addressing Juna. "She still bleeds" Guinevere observed. "She attacked me; it was totally without provacation. I believe she has lost all reason" |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 9 2010, 10:51 PM Post #94 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Fri Jul 18, 2008 5:10 pm Mari Tentative.. Mari didn't really know what that word meant but something about their closeness now was tentative. She could feel something changing and her heart raced. She didn't know what it was and didn't know how to stop it's impending darkness until it had swollen between them creating a wedge. The young woman looked at Milan's hand against hers and then up to his face, worry obviously etched there as she tried to understand why he had been so scared when he was younger.
The movements he made were all wrong. Milan moved away from her with a sobbing cough. Mari's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. He stepped away from her and her hand remained in mid-air, her fingers twitching inwards to empty space where his chest had been. His stuttered words were heartbreaking - Mari watched him with wide brown eyes as he turned away from her. He moved frantically, rubbing at his arm and she had no idea what it was. At first. She cotninued to watch and something triggered in her mind, something remembered from a long time ago. His wrist - a mark upon his wrist. What had that got to do with now? Mari took a step after Milan, hitching a breath to ask him what was wrong when he slumped down on the bed and turned his palm out towards her, warding her off. The young woman was startled by his reaction and when he ordered her not to look she whirled around, turning her back to him. Mari lifted a hand to her mouth and looked wide-eyed at the broken door-frame, her lips moving but no words uttered from her lips as she tried to gather herself. "I'm... I'm sorry, " she mumbled, shaking herh ead looking down at the ground. It took a moment for her to gather her senses and she whirled just as quickly to look at Milan, tottering the few steps forward to the bed and fell to her knees before him, hands clasped on her thighs and her pleading eyes uplifted to his. Seeing him hiding behind his face was a torture and she reached forward and resolutely clasped his wrist, pulling his hand away from his face. "Look at me - look.. please, Milan look at me." Mari whispered. Mari was not the most world-wise person in Badon Hill, but she always moved and acted from the heart. When it came to Milan it was a very pure and wholesome reaction as she skooched forward, trying to reveal his face to her beseeching eyes. "Don't hide from me, you don't have to. I won't... I can't... please tell me why this happens Milan. Whenever we talk about your past you you you... do this, you turn away from me and won't let me know anything about it. Don't you trust me?" the young woman was whispering ever so quietly, her fingers twitching as she hesitated to touch Milan again, worried that he was going to lash out, that he would run off the other direction instead. Saoirse Saoirse hadn't really thought out her idea that no one should know she had been hurt during teh battle. It wasn't really a masochistic thing, not that she was aware of. There had just been so much else going onthat she hadn't seen the right moment to actually stick her hand up and say 'ouch'. So it had festered, lingered and now after a night the wound on her thigh had become a rather nasty looking thing. It was about the size of her little finger and only deep really in the middle - but it was bleeding a hell of alot, and looking at Dagonet's terrified green-grey eyes when he saw the blood made Saoirse realise her mistake. She made to apologise as he hastily hitched up her skirt to view the damage. The Irish woman flinched, not in pain, but embarrassment and a disastrous need not to have him fuss over this. Her cheeks had colored red and she had her hands over her lovers, trying to cover the wound but it was too late.
Dagonet placed a hand over the wound. And it hurt. Saoirse hissed in pain and her fingers clamped down around Dagonet's hand upon her wound, nails digging into the side of his hand as she lifted her blues eyes sharply to the Sarmatians face. She skooched backwards, attempting to move herself away from him, not wanting him to worry but he was already doing it, trying to rise up onto his elbows which he couldn't do. The red head moved back towards him again, instinctively reaching out to help him sit up a little even though doing that would mean he would get a better look at what she was trying to hide. His pleading words struck a chord in her heart and she could not look at him, instead looking down at his too-big hands that seemed to be shaking. "It was the battle - tha's all. Some eejit fell wi' a dagger in his hand an' I was stupidly in his way. It's not as bad as it looks Dagonet. You know how wounds are. It's just not wrapped which is why it's bleedin' s'much. Really, honestly - it's fine, don't worry bout it." the woman said flippantly, ignoring the voice in the back of her head accusing her of being a lying fool, knowing that had she gotten the blasted thing looked at yesterday it would not have had a chance to become swollen and infected the way it was now. "I got him back fer it though." she tried humour, giving the knight a wry smile though there were still lines of worry about her eyes, "He came out of it alot worse than I did..." Saoirse said sliding her hand along Dagonet's hand to his wrist, wrapping her fingers about the limb and trying to soothe his concerns. Kolya Not exactly how he had seen spending his day... Kolya walked off from the brawl the victor, undeniably, but he didn't feel like the victor. He walked off alone after all - it was Galahad who had his brothers around him, who had someone looking over his clumsy, arrogant shoulder to make sure he was ok. No one looked over Kolya's shoulder, no-one cared what happened to him now did they? He was beyond his best. If he was a horse they would have put him out of his misery by now. As the old Sarmatian walked away from the tavern he hobbled a little, favouring one side with an arm slung across his middle. He was sore where he had been punched in the jaw and one of his fists was grazed and bloody from hitting someone - perhaps Galahad? And he had scratched his back off somethign when Galahad had bowled into them all and sent them flying. On top of that he was fucking saturated from the two women thinking it their business to interfere in men's stuff. Lifting his haggard face to the cloudy skies Kolya let out a deep and rasping breath. He lifted his free hand and rubbed his fingertips against his bearded chin, turned a corner and saw Alina. She was standing up on the wall as everyone did when upset, staring out over the plains and pondering on life's cruelties no doubt. Kolya stopped in mid-step and looked back over his shoulder, considering turning away and just leaving her be. She didn't need him in her life - he'd fucked her up enough as it was, why stick around longer and make her life more of a misery? The Sarmatian cleared his throat and flexed his fingers, his hand falling away from his stomach. But all the good intentions in the world could not stop him - they never had before, why would tehy now? Knowing it would be best to turn and leave her be, Kolya put his boot on the first step and went most of the way to the top, stopping about three steps down. He heaved a sigh and turned, leaning his back against the wall and slid down to sit on the step. He looked down at the palm of his hand, his arm resting on his hard kneecap , fingers spread, expression pensive. "It's not what I would have wanted ya know... What happened down there?" he hazarded, not sure if she was in a violent tantrum mood or if she was just zapped of all life altogether. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 9 2010, 10:54 PM Post #95 |
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Author: Lancelot Date: Fri Jul 18, 2008 7:04 pm Lancelot Galahad's expression and his downtrodden face said worlds to Lancelot, but he kept on with the nun, knowing if he didn't hold the momentum of his conversation with Lavinia, any chance he had of getting her to smile and winning the bet was gone. He knew Galahad was probably thinking he was off his rocker for talking to the old woman as he was, but noting Gawain's amused look, he at least figured the other knight got it.
Lancelot turned on Galahad. "I heard that, you little shit. I'm doing this for your benefit, so play nice, otherwise Uncle Lancelot is going to get out his pointy pieces of steel," he said in a harsh whisper between clenched teeth. Then he whipped his head around to face the nun again. "I see you know me, my lady." He laughed, only a bit forced, but as before, the sound did not reflect in the eye that wasn't swollen painfully shut. He looked around the area, thinking perhaps he should at least wipe the now caking and dried blood out of it, when Lavinia got down to it.
Lancelot shot an impatient snort out of his nose. "Gawain - have you ever heard anything more ridiculous in your life? Let the woman help you, pup, otherwise your insides will soon be your outsides and I for one am not having Arthur come down here while he's wounded himself and chastise you as you deserve. I'm sure he'd be very happy to leave you to this good, Christian lady's care, hm?" He rocked back and forth a bit on his heels, and gave Lavinia a concerned face, doing his best to seem innocent and only worried for Galahad. "I'm sure you're the best around," he added confidently, and then winced as his arm and eye twinged at the same moment. "Fucker," he breathed in their own tongue, shooting Galahad an annoyed glance, then switched back to Briton. "Let the nun do as she will, brother. You need the care, and as much as you'd like her to be here, your woman is gone." He sighed heavily and scrubbed at his face, the drying blood itching and his general exhaustion making itself known again. Lancelot, his truth always lurking somewhere behind the mask of annoying bastard he wore all too easily, met Galahad's eyes again. "We need you well," he finished, his tone matching his deadpan face - and he meant it. For once. Actually, as he always did - he just didn't show that side to many. As if I'd tell Arthur the real side of this. You'd have to flog me first. What could I say to him now, at any rate? What can I say to him - He grumbled to himself and stiffly jerked a small stool over to where he could lower his sore body onto it. "You've got me, pup, as much as you don't want me. Do what you need to, Gawain. I'm not leaving." I truly have lost my mind. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 9 2010, 10:55 PM Post #96 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Fri Jul 18, 2008 7:46 pm Tristan and Merlin
Safely out of the Optio’s direct sight- he was standing behind his back, outside the hut’s doorway, as Scipio clearly did not desire his presence within- Tristan allowed himself a small, discreet roll of his eyes as the Optio attempted to arrange things to his liking. Whether Scipio had Mordred in there, or Barbattus, it wouldn’t make much difference, in the scout’s opinion. Merlin was not about to concede anything, and anyone who thought otherwise was a fool. Even now he seemed a bit detached, alert, yes, but just slightly bored with the proceedings necessary to sort out who was to be in the hut, as if the arrangements made no difference to him, either. And they didn’t. He would send his fanatical devil people wherever he damn well wanted them, no matter what he said. The Woads never did otherwise- as the recent attacks proved. “Bloody…” he mouthed as he caught Barbattus’s eyes from the other side of the hut doorway, shaking his head, though he did not finish the curse. This tense standoff was taking its toll on even the scout’s very steady nerves- he could feel it wearing on him, the way that being by himself in the wilderness didn’t. This was talking, at which the scout was no good. Either some action, or they got the hell out of here- that was what Tristan much preferred, but neither seemed likely at the moment. That didn’t keep him from watching, always watching everything, though- he even noted it when Guinevere went over to the Woad healer to confer on the condition of the injured woman, keeping part of an eye on them to see what commenced. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 9 2010, 10:56 PM Post #97 |
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Author: linnet Date: Fri Jul 18, 2008 8:13 pm Juna
Juna didn’t like it at all that Merlin was going into the hut to do more talking with the Roman In-Charge. She suspected trickery, but had no way of knowing who was tricking who. She didn’t like that she wouldn’t be able to see if ‘anyone’ got hurt. And she didn’t like that more Romans than Woads seemed to be entering the hut. The dark haired healer cast an angry glance toward Neeria, who had brought Merlin’s enemies here, and created this anxiety filled situation. The traitor wore an expression of proud contempt. She showed no anxiety, nor regret for what she’d done, only defiance. Juna’s jaw clenched in loathing, a long forgotten feeling she’d experienced years ago whenever she looked at her first ‘husband’. She watched the hut warily, and tried to listen for any alarming sounds from within. Guinevere’s approach broke into Juna’s focus, but it was actually a welcome distraction from her growing nervousness.
Ah, so that explained why Merlin’s daughter had signaled for Juna to let the bloodied woman be. But it left a lot more unexplained. The healer looked questioningly at Guinevere, and moved to kneel beside the wounded Woad. “I think it’s too late to save her, even if I try. She can be left to bleed to death,” Juna said looking up at the royal daughter. “Or she can be killed quickly and spared the agony. Or I can do what little I might to keep her alive.” In the absence of Merlin, Juna would do as Guinevere wished. She had no feelings for this dying crazed woman, and she wasn’t the type of healer who felt compelled to save every hopeless looking patient she encountered. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 9 2010, 10:57 PM Post #98 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Fri Jul 18, 2008 9:01 pm Mona Mona laid in the dirt with her ear pressed firmly on the ground. She thought she heard voices coming from beneath the soil and it fascinated her. The injured woman's breathing was labored and she coughed to clear her full lungs. She turned her head slightly and spit out the blood in her mouth into a beautiful, bright spray. She laughed at the sight of the spew and then put her ear back down to the ground, intent on making out what "they" were saying. Mona was totally oblivious to what was going on around her. With one hand, Mona repeatedly pulled at strands of her long and matted blonde hair, removing them straight from the root. Tiny bits of her scalp clung to the ends of each piece as she happily plucked the tresses from her fingers.
Somewhere in the bowels of her sanity, Mona recognized Guinevere's voice behind her and injured, crazed woman suddenly gnashed her teeth and spat out more blood.
Hearing a second voice, Mona rolled and twisted her body, causing pain to flood her body again. The woman wailed loudly like a wounded animal and the intensity of her injuries washed over her, once again threatening her conscienceness. Somehow, she rolled onto her back so that she could see the other two women. When she saw them, Mona gasped and then choked, throwing herself into a coughing fit. The two women had horns growing from their heads. Mona's mouth dropped open as she watched Juna's antlers sprout from the top of her head. Guinevere's single horn petruded directly from the middle of her forehead, right between her eyes. "What do you want from me?" Mona whispered, wide-eyed and frightened. Suddenly, the injured woman began frantically digging into the earth. She raked her hands across the hard ground, jamming dirt into her nailbeds as she tried to dig a hole. She was going to hide in it. Maybe the voices could help her. "Don't hurt me," she whimpered to the women watching her. Then she continued to dig. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 10 2010, 12:51 AM Post #99 |
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Author: sabor ice Date: Sat Jul 19, 2008 2:25 am Mordred & Ash
Mordred did not presume Merlin to be a man easily intimidated, but he also believed the man to be no fool. The Woad leader had tasted but a sample of what Rome was capable of. With everything to lose and nothing to gain, why did he continue to lead this foolish resistance? Was his following of deranged flea-infested sins against nature storming half-naked and barefoot across Briton lands truly his idea of a magnum opus? Dark eyes swiveled toward a group of Woads not far away, briefly scanning the feral faces of the little blonde mute and her guardian, the wilting form of an injured Woad girl and what he suspected to be a healer trying to tend to her. His soulless gaze hesitated a moment on Juna. Was there nothing in this world the so-called Magician held sacred? Was he so eager and willing to sacrifice all those who had pledged their loyalty to him? Not that Mordred objected to mass genocide, but every man still had his limits, even a self-righteous animosity like Merlin. What was Merlin's weakness? What would it take to break him? Mordred registered Amadeus' silent instruction to advance even before the Optio had called for his company inside of the hut. He stepped past Tristan and Malcus - a mocking and sardonic light to his eyes as he momentarily met the Commander's gaze - before entering after the Optio and coming to stand partially behind him. His hand remained atop the hilt of the re-assuring cool steel at his side, cold and penetrating eyes silently assessing Merlin's man, and then the so-called Magician himself. Waiting. Outside Ash remained alongside his brethren. Mona's theatrics had managed to successfully distract him for a time. He cocked an eyebrow at the bloody mess, not a trace of sympathy for the traitor's safety nor seemingly sudden lack of sanity evident in his dark eyes. As far as he was concerned, Juna was wasting her time. Neeria, the other traitor, lingered nearby, stewing in a stupor of false confusion and innocence. Ash wondered if she'd be foolish enough to try and plead insanity for her conspiratorial involvements with the Romans. The Woad turned his attention back to the Romans in time to see two of them enter the hut - one of them being the dark knight who had taken Eala. Eala still held a fistful of his tunic down at his side, and he raised a hand to rest at the back of her neck, giving her a re-assuring nod then that Merlin would be fine. Ash counted on the Romans' stupidity, but did not doubt Nolan's pre-emptive skill. Merlin was well looked after. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 10 2010, 12:52 AM Post #100 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Sat Jul 19, 2008 12:22 pm Malcus Barbattus Malcus didn't move as Mordred slid past him and stepped inside the hut. The captain's jaw clenched as he felt his blood boil. Up until that moment, he still had no real reason to dislike or to distrust Mordred but the smug look in the knight's eyes as he passed made Malcus angry. What the bloody fuck was going on here? Suddenly, Amadeus' voice flooded the small hut.
Malcus bit the inside of his cheek with such intensity, he tasted his own blood instantly. Unable to contain himself any longer, Malcus squeezed the hilt of the dagger so tightly, his knuckles turned white. Barbattus looked at Tristan once again with the dark storm still brewing on his face, before he approached Amadeus in two full strides. The captain pressed his armor breast plate into Scipio's back and leaned into him so that Malcus' mouth was right at the optio's ear. Barbattus fought for control as his voice quivered. "I don't give two wenches' tits what you ordered. I'm going to remind you sir," he said through gritted teeth, with particular emphasis on the "sir", "that I am on this mission under the direct order of Artorius Castus, Commander of Badon Keep and by his authority, and his alone," Barbattus spat, "I will stand my ground during these negotiations." Then Barbattus pushed his chest just a little farther into Scipio and said, with his hot breath on the other man's skin, just above a whisper, "now get the bloody fuck on with it!" The captain stepped back from the optio, boring his dark eyes into the other man's gray irises and moved back to his position in the threshold of the hut door, his hand trembling. Malcus looked over at Tristan and grunted while they waited to see what the optio would do next. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 10 2010, 12:53 AM Post #101 |
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Author: Unicorn Date: Sat Jul 19, 2008 1:06 pm Dagonet It was obvious that Saoirse wanted to cover her wound and didn't want get her lover worried. But it was already too late. Dagonet was terrified with mere sight of blood, and seeing the blood made his heart beat a little faster. Gods! How could he not know that she was injured? It hurted her... When he touched the wound Saoirse's hand squeezed his large one with such force that Dagonet looked up quickly at her face in horror. He should be more careful about this! He rapidly moved his hands away from the wound and allowed her to help him sit up a little. His side burnt him in sharp pain with those motion and he winced slightly to it, but kept his eyes upon Saoirse's face. His hands were trembling and he felt panic creeping into him fast.
Her gaze left him as he asked the question, and he instantly looked back at the wound. It was red, swollen and bleeding... It looked badly. Normally he would just take the needed items and take care of them himself, right now he found himself not ready to decide anything about it. He looked back into her eyes and shook his head.
Her hand grasped his wrist to assure him, everything was alright. But he knew it was not. He took his sheet and pressed around the wound to clear the blood away... "Saoirse.... This is besides the point!" he said while shaking his head, frustration and rebuke evident in his voice. "Why the hell, you left it like this?? You know how dangerous it is!" He was able finally to calm himself a little, his hands stopped shaking so hard as he gently cleaned the area around the cut itself. It was not deep, but left like this was serious. He firmly pressed his hand to the wound to stop bleeding. He could not take care of this himself... "Any help here?" he asked loudly knowing that some healers should hear him. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 10 2010, 12:55 AM Post #102 |
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Author: linnet Date: Sat Jul 19, 2008 3:33 pm Gawain and Mother Lavinia Gawain grew a little nervous when his advice to Galahad elicited a look of less than normal disdain from Lavinia. That would be all he needed, if she was to smile at something he did or said. Lancelot would undoubtedly claim the credit and Gawain’s finances would be set seriously back.
Actually, the blonde knight thought things were going pretty well at the moment. Galahad had resigned himself to letting the nun fix him up, and that was Gawain’s first priority. An added bonus was that the name-calling and bickering between his friend and Lancelot meant that the Suave Knight wasn’t using the time to soften up Lavinia. And so far, her crabby old face was still hard as granite; wrinkly, saggy granite, but rock solid mean.
Gawain kept his hand on Galahad’s shoulder and looked into his sad hopeless eyes. He just shook his head slowly, not to say no, but out of realization that Galahad was as miserable as he’d ever seen him. Gawain’s instinct was to find Alina and drag her here to look at what she’d caused. Or to knock Kolya unconscious the way he’d had to do with Galahad, but not holding back this time. “I’ll just stick around until Lavinia’s taken care of you,” he said, trying to sound offhand, rather than mothering. “Then if you want to be alone, I’ll go.”
“No one is going anywhere yet,” Lavinia answered sternly. She looked from Lancelot to Gawain. “Both of you need to be checked out and worked on before you leave. So make yourselves comfortable while your reluctant friend is mended.” Then she impatiently shooed away the gaggle of nosy onlookers, with a threatening, “Back to your duties, you dolts.” “Now,” the nun said, turning to the quiet girl who was ‘with’ Gawain. “If you still want to help, young lady, please assist Galahad out of his tunic, and start cleaning the blood from around his wound – very carefully.” She nodded toward a large basin of water and a stack of cloths on a table near the bed. “I have to get a couple of things I’ll need, and will be right back.” With that Lavinia hurried off to her supply room, relieved to temporarily escape the avalanche of random words that occurred every time the Edgy One opened his mouth. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 10 2010, 12:56 AM Post #103 |
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Author: sabor ice Date: Sun Jul 20, 2008 1:47 am Alina
Alina stared out over the wall for what seemed like a lifetime, pondering life and its vindictiveness, searching for answers to questions she should've already knew. Her mind was blind, and she was incapable of finding her way through the tricking darkness. It lied to her, provoking thoughts and emotions to sway one way for the other, swirling them around until she found herself nearly ill with dizziness. Resigned, she closed her eyes with a deep sigh then, taking in what comfort she could from the surrounding silence. She did nothing, thought nothing, just attempted to breathe easy. Solitude provided her with a much needed quantum of solace. It was short lived. A voice broke her concentration. His voice. She sighed again as she drew herself up a bit straighter, tightening the folds of her mucked up cloak around her slender form with one hand, while the other clenched at her side. Her face felt sticky and marred by the dirt and grime drying against her fair skin, but a bath was currently the least of her concerns. Hazy brown eyes stared ahead into the distance. After everything that had just happened, of all times for him to seek her out, he had chosen to do so now. But, that was Kolya for you. Had the woman retained even a single humorous bone in her body, she might've laughed at his foolish audacity. Her former self might've flustered with irritation, gotten angry even. But where decisive emotion should've been, there was nothing. A void had interrupted her myriad of feelings. "Then, why are you here?" she finally asked, her tone reserved. He claimed to have not meant for the fight with Galahad to happen, so why then was he furthermore endangering himself, as well as Galahad, by approaching her? She pivoted and stood near the edge, half-hooded eyes peering down at him on the steps. "I think we've all had quite enough for one day, don't you?" |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 10 2010, 12:58 AM Post #104 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Sun Jul 20, 2008 8:31 am Arthur Arthur’s smile broadened as Darya briefly pressed her soft lips to the top of his knuckles. The corners of his eyes crinkled with genuine affection as Darya shifted closer on the bed and he brought that hand (upon her releasing it) to rest on her hip while accepting her tender kiss. Unfortunately, Arthur’s other hand had to remain pressed over his stitches as the wound continued to ache. But Arthur would not allow his poor physical condition to dominate his expression as he wished to avoid further worrying Darya. Gentle green eyes met brown and remained open even as Darya kissed Arthur again….this time with a hint of passion and perhaps even possession in her touch. Arthur reacted with a flash of darker thoughts again, but quickly shoved them aside as he willingly returned the kiss. He allowed Darya her way simply because her kiss was the intimate touch that Arthur had requested and needed right now. Oh Eyla would have given the Roman any physical ministration that he’d requested of her, for a price of course. But that was not Arthur’s way and Darya was his lover, his…and in his own way, he did love her as well.
I love you, Arthur. And THAT simple little phrase meant ‘everything’ to Arthur. And Darya gave it to him willingly…yet the one who…No, that wound must be allowed to heal over. I cannot keep bleeding for him nor can I allow myself to be that vulnerable ever again. Darya then proceeded to help Arthur forget those heavier thoughts with yet another tender kiss; and thankfully less possessively this time.
Surely it was his exhaustion mixed with the discomforts he still suffered from his wounded side that kept the Roman from hearing the subtle hint in Darya’s words; as it did not occur to Arthur that his lover was or ever could be with child when she’d said ‘we’. Also, Arthur was the appointed Roman Commander of this fortress and thus accustomed – and born with the inherent drive –to protecting those in his charge. His body certainly bore the scars in testament to Arthur’s devotion to those under his command….or truly anyone in need of rescue from harm. “I pray that you need me at least as much as I need you, Angel,” Arthur answered reassuringly in hopes of lessening her obviously serious concerns while he lifted his hand to carefully brush aside a long strand of hair from Darya’s face. For a few moments, Arthur allowed himself to set aside his own concerns over the mission of peace he’d sent Scipio and Barbattus on to Merlin in his stead. He allowed himself to forego brooding over the duty and responsibilities he was bound to in the eyes of God and Rome…..for a few quiet moments alone with the one who loved him. But Arthur’s overwhelming need to fulfill his role as ‘Commander’ and ‘Protector’ would not be silenced for long. I must recover and quickly….Oh merciful God, heal the wounds to my body so that I may show only strength in the face of adversity. And Arthur was certain that he would have a need to be strong again rather quickly….his gut ached with an unnamed apprehension….’something’ worked against peace and against the safe-keeping of the fortress and its inhabitants…Arthur felt dread around him despite not knowing what evil was at work here. And then as Darya lay down beside him, a more personal concern had the lines in his brow thickening…. “Tell me what troubles you….were you injured in the attack? How did you fare?” Arthur asked with concern laced in his quiet tone. Perhaps that was what troubled Darya…she was concealing an injury or perhaps some other distasteful thing from him. Arthur’s green eyes studied his lover’s delicate features with renewed scrutiny…searching for some indication of what she might be hiding behind those dark eyes; his index finger lightly trailed along her jaw and finally halted as the tip brushed over her bottom lip. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 10 2010, 12:59 AM Post #105 |
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Author: Kay Date: Sun Jul 20, 2008 9:17 am Guinevere
Guinevere glanced at Mona again. She had her ear pressed against the ground; she turned and spat out some blood before resuming her stance. The princess shook her head; the girl was clearly insane; she even laughed at the sight of her own blood. And now she was ripping out strands of her own hair and gnashing her teeth. Mona turned to look at the two women and began wailing and whimpering.
The girl was actually digging in the dirt with her bare hands. Guinevere's intincts told her to kill the girl now, to end her misery, for she seemed beyond help, but the princess wanted her father to see the girl for himself, so that he would know why his daughter had been forced to attack her long time comrade. Shuddering, Guinevere turned away from the pitiful sight and spoke quietly to Juna. "Patch her up; if she will let you" she said. "I want my father to see what the girl has become" |
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