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| July 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Apr 3 2010, 09:33 PM (2,359 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | Apr 10 2010, 01:00 AM Post #106 |
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Author: Starbelle Date: Sun Jul 20, 2008 11:56 am Tatiana Seeing the reaction on Adian's face that her words evoked in him and watching as he moved one large hand to encompass her face as his thumb stroked her cheek. She leaned her head into his soft touch and closed her eyes half-way as if she was starved for affection.
Hearing him reply to her words, as well as the almost confused tone of voice that he used, she looked up into his heather gray eyes with her soft green ones. "A wisewoman once told me that things happen for a reason. However, as far as trying to describe me, Adian, its not quite exactly that easy to do." Tatiana replied a mischievious grin softly curling the corners of her lips briefly upward before she moved her tiny hand from its place on his shoulder up into the hair on his neck softly curling her fingers there, and stretching her lithe form, placed a soft kiss on his lips with her own as if sealing a promise. I'll take good care of him for you, Lady Thorn. I promise |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 10 2010, 01:02 AM Post #107 |
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Author: TwistOfShadows Date: Sun Jul 20, 2008 3:30 pm Ceinwyn and Nolan
Ceinwyn was not truly maddened, she was borderline. Her green eyes burnt fervently, and wore the shadows and intensity of the past. The Woad woman had seen numerous battles, and she had witnessed her mother’s death and rape at Roman hands. Her experience at the hands of Lancelot was merely another reason to question reality and push her mind into torment. She had no patience anymore, she had no rational mind…she merely watched the Romans and Woads dance around each other with pretty semantics. The Optio was arrogant, but he was a coward. Ceinwyn turned to him when he addressed her, but her gaze was lazy and completely uncaring. Perhaps they should cut his throat and allow the Sarmatian to lead in politics alongside bravery? Ceinwyn looked at Nolan, and she saw the stoic expression that turned his face to stone. The Woad military leader was losing patience also, but he stood strong alongside Merlin, awaiting order and responsibility.
Nolan was beckoned over, and he moved without hesitation. The Woad watched Tristan lay out the bodies, and his gaze lingered on the Scout. There was something strange about the slave, something enigmatic, but he was a slave. The Woad looked to the Optio, and he stepped in closer to Merlin’s side. The Roman was sarcasm and arrogance personified, but he had no fibre to his words. Almost everyone in the clearing had witnessed his cowardice, his willingness to send a Sarmatian into the crossfire. Honour? He did not know the meaning of the word, and so Nolan did not fear him. The Woad’s eyes glanced down the Roman’s slim form, and he wrinkled his nose in distaste. This man would be cut down easily. He would prove no challenge should be decide against peace today. As they entered the hut, Nolan kept close to Merlin’s side. He was aware of the other presences, but let them try anything…
Nolan turned slowly to Barbattus and raised his eyebrows. These men were squabbling like children, and it looked ridiculous. How could they stand strong, stand bravely, when their own loyalties were battered and bruised? These men were not comrades, they were not even friends, and Nolan was bored of their pettiness. He looked to Merlin, and then to the outside of the hut. Ceinwyn had come closer to the hut, but not close enough to hear anything. She stood strong, and for a moment, Nolan was grateful that her loyalty seemed unwavering. She was mad, and yet made these petty Romans seem ridiculous. The Woad slipped a hand to the hilt of his dagger, and breathed a ragged breath from his lips. The ‘Captain’ was arguing for the sake of arguing, and the Optio clearly lacked control over his men. The situation was stupid. Pathetic. With a sudden and rude movement, Nolan spat on the floor, and spoke to Merlin. In their own tongue. “They squabble like children. They cannot even negotiate between themselves.” |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 10 2010, 01:04 AM Post #108 |
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Author: linnet Date: Sun Jul 20, 2008 8:52 pm Juna
Juna looked with raised eyebrows at Guinevere, as though to say ‘if you’re sure’. She continued to kneel next to the injured woman, who was acting and looking more like a rabid dying animal than a human. The healer grabbed the creature’s wrists to stop her from tearing clumps of hair out by the roots and scalp. Spots of blood oozed from the woman’s head, streaking her blond hair with dark red. A sudden spray of blood erupted from the lunatic’s mouth, and Juna barely managed to move quickly enough to avoid being splattered. Why Merlin should have to witness this madness wasn’t apparent to Juna. But she would do as Guinevere wanted. Killing the woman seemed like the better choice to the healer. She had witnessed countless deaths, but had never killed anyone. She knew she was probably the only person in the Woad community over the age of seven who hadn’t. And she wouldn’t have been able to kill this demented woman either. Someone else’s hand would have to wield the knife. Juna believed in her mind that it would be right to end the dying Woad’s agony. But when she tried to envision standing by and watching as someone slit her throat, the healer’s stomach lurched.
The Woad turned her body and started digging into the earth. Juna pulled the burrowing madwoman over onto her back. “Help hold her still,” she said to Guinevere. “What is her name?” Then she spoke to the crazed female, though with little faith in being comprehended. “I want you to be calm and quiet so I can help you. Do you understand?” Juna took some concoctions and dressings from her bag and did what she could to stem the bleeding from the deepest wounds. She also tried forcing a mildly calming potion down the woman’s throat. Anything to stop the bizarre behavior. Juna’s attention to the injured Woad was far from total. As she worked on the wounds, she kept glancing back at the hut. Seeing the Roman who had been on horseback follow the others inside had her near panic. Merlin’s enemies now had him and his second in command, Nolan, outnumbered, out armed, and out of sight of the Woad warriors. What better way for the Romans to end the Woad resistance than to eliminate the leaders? Juna’s imagination was creating a deadly scenario, and right now there was no evidence to prove her wrong. She finished with the injured Woad and stood, looking nervously toward the hut. She took a few steps toward it, then turned to look at Guinevere. “I’m worried for your father,” she said anxiously. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 10 2010, 02:01 PM Post #109 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Sun Jul 20, 2008 9:26 pm Brendyn The young soldier found the roster noting that he had been placed on guard duty at the wall. Surely this was some mistake as he had not fully finished his punishment, or perhaps it was a reward for finding the gate where the woads had escaped. He wondered if Quintus had filled Titrus in on what they had found...what he had found. He moved to his quarters and over to where he had placed his Spatha, and his spear. Placing the sword in the scabbard at his side, he took the spear and headed toward the chapel. Perhaps it'd be a good time to pray before moving to guard the wall on night duty. Finding the chapel, Brendyn stepped inside closing the door behind him. Before approaching the alter, the soldier removed his helmet, tucked it under his arm before moving forward. Carefully and quietly, he sat the helmet and spear down on the seat next to him, then stood back up as if at attention. Brendyn took both sides of his red cloak, and pulled them in front of his body, his eyes studying the cross on the alter. Brendyn whispered into the dim light of the chapel, his softly accented voice echoing in the quiet: " Ro, a Dhew, dha Wyth, Hag yn Gwyth, Nerth, Hag yn Nerth, Skyans, Hag yn Skyans, Gothvos, Hag yn Gothvos, Gothvos an Ewn, Hag yn Gothvos an Ewn, y Gara, Hag a Gara, Cara pup Bewnans, Hag yn pup Bewnans Cara Dew: Dew ha pup-oll Dader." * His friends came to his mind. The whole legion and Antonius....lost. Brendyn missed them all. A prayer of thanks the god for having found Arthur and the knights after the battle. He did not waver from his thoughts and prayers as he went to one knee and bowed his head. He prayed for his new Commander, Arthur, and the new friends he had made in the knights: Gawain, Galahad...Dagonet... The silence enveloped him, and washed over ever inch of his body. Brendyn prayed for wisdom do do his duty well...and for safety...for Tatiana. *=Grant, O God Your Protection, And in Protection, Power, And in Power, Wisdom, And in Wisdom, Knowledge, And Knowledge, Knowledge of what is Just, And in Knowledge of what is Just, the Love of it, And from Loving, to Love all Existence, And in all Existence to Love God, God and all Goodness. Amen |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 10 2010, 02:02 PM Post #110 |
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Author: sabor ice Date: Mon Jul 21, 2008 12:02 am Nadeem
For a whore, Catherine was willfully refined. She seemed to take great care in moving with a certain element of dignity, and speaking in a tone alluring, but also elegant. At first glance, one might not even register what her trade was, as it was obvious she was a woman who took care of herself. Not all wenches or whores went out of their way to look beautiful for prospective customers. Some were interested only in the payment they'd receive for spreading their legs, but Catherine was different. She reminded him of a courtesan, an appetizing beauty of the highest class of prostitutes, the queen of all mistresses and a man's greatest fantasy, should he be able to afford her services, that was. Courtesans were lovers not for the faint of heart, nor for those unwilling to pay a hefty price for such exotic company. Nadeem was not a rich man, but he was a generous lover. He chuckled at her request, the purr from her inviting lips perfectly exquisite. It had been weeks since the leader had last shared a bed with a woman. And, the last woman certainly had not been anywhere near as lovely as Catherine. "Chaturaji is a game of chance. As you might've anticipated, it requires four players to be official, but I do not much care for this particular game. Luck is obsolete," Nadeem told her. One of the other men, Oded, rolled two dice just then, hooting mockingly in his native tongue toward another as his piece claimed its opponent's. Asi bantered something back, his face screwed up in annoyance, but the others just laughed. Nadeem slammed his emptied mug down onto the table, his features uplifting as he offered Catherine a sardonic grin at his men's tomfoolery. He slid a few coins onto the table as payment for his meal, gesturing with his hand for the blonde whore to walk with him as he joined her. "Let us find peace elsewhere, hm?" Nadeem suggested, and led her toward the exit. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 10 2010, 02:04 PM Post #111 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Mon Jul 21, 2008 2:20 pm Vanora and Bors Shifting her weight to bear Bors a bit more comfortably, Vanora helped the man to steady himself as they left the infirmary. Thankfully, their home was not far off...just across the courtyard, and a bit down from the tavern. They talked as they slowly made their way across the muddy courtyard. Bors groaned a bit, so Vanora stopped, and waited for the man to nod for her to move on. Vanora wryly felt that she might have to place Bors on a diet as he was a tad on the hefty side. Making it to their small home, Vanora opened the door with her free hand, and after helping Bors inside, closed the door behind them. It was just them. "Come one Bors, over here, love," She said as she moved him to sit on the edge of the bed. Bors gratfully lie down on the furs with a groan, then looked at her....He was lucky to have her. Vanora lay a hand on his face then bent down to kiss him. "I love you, you big lummox..." In the dim light her eyes showed a bit of mischief in them.... |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 10 2010, 02:06 PM Post #112 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Mon Jul 21, 2008 5:15 pm Mona Mona was only mildly aware of Juna's attempts at tending to her wounds. The woman was too concentrated on the colorful butterflies flying around the healer's head. "Purple, orange, blue, red..." she said as she smiled at the imaginary creatures. Mona's mind didn't allow the pain that wracked through her body to distract her from her counting the butterflies as they suddenly turned into....the wounded woman gasped as the butterflies turned into something horrible. Their wings seemed to spread, becoming weblike as tiny feet suddenly appeared underneath their rodent-like bodies. They all turned an ashy gray color as fangs sprout from their small mouths and their ears became pointy. Mona imagined the bats to be everywhere. As Juna stepped away from her, Mona became terrified and grabbed Juna's ankle, swatting furiously with her free hand. "You brought them to kill me!" she hissed, "You crone, you brought these creatures. You did this to keep me from Merlin. But it won't work!" Mona turned and looked at Guinevere whose, in her deranged mind, eyes were glowing and had fangs dripping with blood. "You....you...," but the insane woman couldn't complete her thought. Mona held onto the healer's ankle with all the strength she had left. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 10 2010, 02:08 PM Post #113 |
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Author: Kayla Date: Mon Jul 21, 2008 9:27 pm Fiona What Fiona was getting herself into, she was only beginning to realize and think about. She was a generally helpful person, always the one that would be willing to help with anything but almost always ended up under the person's feet instead of actually being able to contribute. Maybe it was her age or that it had usually been around Guinevere or Brianna, who had been older than her and generally didn't want a child messing around in whatever they were getting into, although Bri had been all-around more open to her sister. Or maybe it was just the fact that the people she was willing to help didn't always want what she offered. Almost like now, for instance, although she had sort of pushed her way in anyway.
Fiona saw the woman look from the woad to Gawain and didn't miss the grunt that she gave from her throat. She simply nodded when Lavinia told her to come along, trying to imagine what all the 'talk' that was being threatened would include. It wasn't a very pretty image, considering she had just walked in with a bunch of rowdy looking knights and the fact that she had said that she was 'with' Gawain didn't seem to be much of a help at all.
The knights were talking to each other as the woad and Lavinia stepped closer to the cot that Galahad had been placed on and she shot a look at Lancelot as he tried to work his charm on the nun, who apparently didn't take too kindly to it.
The woad's blue eyes met up with the nun's as she turned her attention towards the girl, giving her directions on what she could do to help. Fiona gave a quiet 'alright' and stepped in the direction of the knight to help him with his tunic first, with almost hesitant steps, as if she didn't know how he would react - he hadn't seemed too thrilled when she had shown up. She cleared her throat and raised her hands a bit, gesturing to his tunic and her eyes lifted to his face, one of her eyebrows quirked a bit. "If you don't mind," she said softly, not wanting to start yanking his shirt off if he didn't want her near him. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 10 2010, 02:10 PM Post #114 |
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Author: sabor ice Date: Tue Jul 22, 2008 1:08 am Milan
He continued to fidget, not as violently as only moments ago, but the awkward uncomfortable twitching remained apparent. He was reluctant to allow her to take his hand away at first, as if the appendage of mere skin and bone was the only thing keeping him safe and hidden from the outside world. Her gentle hold of his wrist coaxed him to eventually comply, but he twisted his face from her pleading brown eyes. Vibrant blue eyes, deep like the sea following rain, turned askew, and his brow formed a hard line, dipping sadly in the middle. She drowned him with her beseeching words, but he could not find it in himself to face her. His misery lied not with the fact that he trusted her, but that she trusted him. He thought he had abandoned his mission, thwarted his dark past into the light, but what he was doing now was exactly what he was meant to be doing from the beginning. Getting close to someone. Meriting their trust. Forging a relationship masked in ultimate deception. Everything, to his horror, was going along swimmingly to plan. Mari had involuntarily become involved in his deadly dance, oblivious to his intentions, willingly succumbing to his deceitful desire. Milan had to warn her, but how? How could he and risk losing her? He was nothing without her. His tear-stricken face lifted, eyes staring blindly toward the hole in the ceiling, his features an indescribable mix of pain and sorrow. His body heaved in uncontrollable sobs, yet no sound came out. His lips moved to form incomprehensible words in his native tongue, the uncanny repetition of two syllables, "Not her." The chanting was at first teary, but then was filled with an undeniable firmness, as if he was now telling instead of asking. A few shaky breaths escaped his lips as he tried to console himself back to reason. Finally, he seemed calmer. He dropped his chin and met his gaze with Mari's. He couldn't read her expression, but he reached out a hand to touch her cheek, and then the other, sliding off the bed onto his knees before her in one smooth movement, his face only inches from hers. "I love you," Milan said simply. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 10 2010, 02:11 PM Post #115 |
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Author: Darya Date: Wed Jul 23, 2008 10:03 am Darya When Arthur returned her kisses and even also seemed to ease a little, Darya closed her eyes to savour this moment It felt good…and the Roman’s gently supporting hand at her waist then also added the much needed feeling of security. The woman sighed quietly…but then re-opened her eyes when her lover spoke…
The Sarmatian tilted her head slightly as if to lean into Arthur’s gentle touch as he brushed a strand of hair out of her face. His words brought another faint smile to her lips. “Now more than ever…”, the woman replied without actually thinking about the words. It was an intuitive answer, implying yet another hint for what was laying so heavily on her mind… But then she carefully lay down next to Arthur and met the Roman’s emerald gaze with her dark one. Not only was she concerned about how the Commander might react to the news…but also about his health. Darya had of course noticed that her lover kept one hand pressed to his injury and resisted the urge to call for Neeve to check on Arthur’s wound again. For now. The healer just had to come by soon…otherwise the dark Sarmatian knew she would find no sleep later. To real were those nightmarish images before her mind’s eye that kept haunting her: the wound getting infected and no one noticing it… And Darya knew how that could end. To even imagine what it would mean if Arthur died was scaring her to the bones already… The dark-haired swallowed roughly in order to shove those thoughts aside for now and then blinked slightly when the man by her side let one finger carefully traced along the line of her jaw…and then found her lips…
Darya parted her lips just a little to prolong the contact of her lover’s index-finger with them and let a moment of silence stretch between them… Her first hint had been too subtle it seemed yet Arthur was on the right path by asking what was troubling her. However, when he mentioned the attack, a corner of the woman’s mouth twitched slightly. Yet it gave her the chance to let the Commander know that Merlin had actually dared to enter the Fortress. Briefly chewing the inside of her cheeks, the dark-haired brought one hand up and took Arthur’s again. She gently moved both their hands until they rested just above her breasts. “There were way more Woads inside the Fortress this time…”, she finally said, never breaking eye-contact with Arthur, “…Guinevere and Merlin were two of them… The old Woad told me that the Gods have told him to break the truce when I stood face to face with him…” Darya shook her head slightly, still not sure if she should be amused or confused by Merlin’s words back then. However, the Woad leader’s eyes had burnt themselves into her memory…especially since she had never seen the man himself before that attack. “He stopped Guinevere and me from doing more than just arguing when I confronted her”, she added with a wry grin, yet her hand flexed slightly about Arthur’s as Darya spoke, “…however, I just have a small scratch on my arm as direct reminder of the attack, no worries…” Then there was another moment of silence, which the female Sarmatian used to gently urge their joined hands further down until they were resting on her tummy. “But the attack is not what is troubling me…not only…”, Darya continued, determined to finally tell Arthur about the changes in her…in their lives. “You remember that I was not so well lately, don’t you?”, she asked and again, her small hand flexed slightly about her lover’s, “…I spoke to Isolde about that…and…” Gods, this was harder than she would have ever imagined. “And…she came to the conclusion that…right now…there’s three persons…souls…here in this bed…”, the woman ended, suddenly feeling a strange shiver crawl down her spine as she could not hold Arthur’s gaze any longer but glanced down at their joined hands instead. Had she been direct enough for the Roman to get the message? And if so, how would he react? |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 10 2010, 02:20 PM Post #116 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Wed Jul 23, 2008 1:50 pm Galahad
Galahad didn't react to Lancelot's threat. He tsked gently, rolling his blue eyes upwards. What did it matter if Lancelot stabbed him right now? It would mean he wasn't a burden on Gawain, a hindrance to Alina's happiness or a pain in the arse for Lavinia. All in all, wouldn't everyone be better off if he were dead? The young Sarmatian felt a maniac twist of laughter in his gut at how pitiful he sounded to himself.. but he kept a lid on it, his cheeks bulging a little as he continued looking at nothing in particular.
Only four words actually bounded around the inside of Galahad's head and it showed in his sad blue eyes when he turned them towards Gawain.
Your woman is gone. Galahad looked like Alina was indeed gone, and gone for good. And he didn't look much pleased with this news. He couldn't tell Lancelot that. The bristly prick would crack some crude joke or make a mockery of him not being able to keep even a tame thing like Alina. And that is how Galahad looked at it too. She had not been a demanding lover, she had not been disrespectful or awkward at all - she had been beautifully perfect and he had somehow managed to screw it all up! How?!
The old nun babbled about beside him and ushered Fiona to the fore in order to clean his wounds. Galahad sighed, shutting his eyes and lay back down on the bed he had been placed on. He shut tilted his head back, his Adam's apple bobbing beneath the dark bristles on his neck as he held back the wealth of tears that threatened to spill. And not for the physical pain. It was more for the embarassment about everything. Everything. Lancelot was right - Arthur didn't need this kind of thing right now. Gawain was right - he shouldn't have started a fight with Kolya. Lavinia was right - he needed mending. And in being such a klutz about things he had also managed to get Lancelot and Gawain 'caught' having to get their own hurts looked at when they would have been more than happy to just look after them themselves. Better off dead... he thought again grimly, tilting his head to look at the young face of Fiona as she came to stand near to him. She looked hesitant. Did she think he was going to lash out at her too? That he'd start a fight with her like he had done with Kolya? That he'd end up elbowing her in the eye the way he had with Lancelot?
She gestured to his tunic. Galahad sighed and shrugged. He brought himself into a sitting position, shoulders slumped and reached back awkwardly to the shoulders of his tunic. He then pulled it forward, upwards over his head, mussing up his dark curls but it got stuck half way, his injured stomach making it impossible for him to complete the function without spewing a kidney onto the mattress. And it hurt like a bitch too. Galahad hissed in pain and his shoulders tensed. Despite being the baby of the group he still had an impressive physique and his sinewy body beneath the tunic tensed all over, muscles rippling in a spasm of pain as his shoulders sagged, the tunic half over his head and from within the wet wool there came a muffled voice. "Stuck." Amadeus
That was entirely the wrong way to react. Amadeus heard teh man's boots and wondered for a split second why it had been that easy to dismiss him. But of course the man had been raised by Castus' standards! The man knew nothing of proper etiquette! In the Roman army on the continent he would not have lasted two days let alone the years he had lasted here in Britain. The Optio stiffened as the Captain spoke close to his ear and with a seething fury burning in his grey eyes he gave a distracted, embarrassed smile to Merlin and turned to glare fiercely across at Barbattus. He moved over towards the man and looked down his narrow nose directly into his eyes. "What?" he hissed, aware of the shuffling behind him as the Woads observed this act of idiocy from Barbattus. It was as if the man thought that he was exempt from his Commander's rule. It was as if the man was fool enough to think that, despite Arthur Castus himself ordering Amadeus Scipio as the leader of this party, that he was somehow ... somehow not under the umbrella of his orders. It was idiocy in all it's pitiful splendour. Arthur had ordered Barbattus to accompany them? Of course he had - but he had ordered, explicitly, that Amadeus Scipio was in charge. Did Barbattus miss that? Amadeus had every intention of ensuring this particular welp would not see promotion, pay-packet or time off for the next six-months for this outrage. "Fool! All you do is cut the earth from beneath me and ridicule me, me!, you, the Sarmatian and Lord Mordred with this idiocy. Should things not go the way Arthur has deemed they should then he will know precisely who undermined our stand here, Captain.. Now stand down." Amadeus said under his breath. Saoirse Saoirse knew it had been a bad idea not to get it tended to immediately. But at that time she had been rather caught up in Rafe's damn injury - the one on his thigh that had been bleeding out much worse than her own was. Her own was a scratch compared to what RAfe had suffered. And it was her nature to dismiss her own hurts. She always had. Saoirse had made it her habit to turn aside that which is good for her and look for that which is bad. She always made the wrong decisions. Which is why she found this love so hard to cope with. It was so right for her, so comforting and so perfect - so she bucked against it.
The red head flinched, shifting her arse to the side with a hiss of pain when Dagonet pressed the sheet against the steady dribble of blood from her inflamed wound. She looked over at his furious grey-green eyes and saw a calm come over him as he got himself under control, his voice scolding her for her foolishness and rightly so. Saoirse could do nothing but sit there and take the rebuke with as much dignity as she could muster. She bowed her head, looking at Dagonet's huge, weathered hand against her milky pale leg and she sighed. When he callled out for help it startled her and she shook her head about to tell him not to be so hasty in assuming it needed outside help when a passing nurse paused and glanced towards them. Saoirse gave her a cuttign glance and the woman raised an eyebrow. "Wha'?" Saoirse snapped. The nun got a chilly look about her eyes at the red-heads snippy tone and turned to face them both, looking over Saoirse's head at Dagonet then down at Saoirse's bloody leg. The Irish woman scowled, shifting sideways and placing her hand over the sheet that was weakly stemming the blood. "That looks like it needs treating." the nun said. Saoirse glowered and looked over at Dagonet, obviously disgruntled about this turn of events. "He needs feedin' more than I need bandagin'." she commented coldly, throwing her legs over the side of the bed but when she went to stand her wounded leg buckled weakly and she fell backwards, barely catching herself onto the mattress once more. Saoirse held her breath, holding herself still. She could feel Dagonet's annoyance prickling behind her and cleared her throat, self consciously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before turning to look at him sheepishly. "Alrigh' - so maybe it could do wi' a poultice or somethin'...." she conceded. The nun sniffed and came around to prod at Saoirse's thigh. The red head was sitting on the edge of the bed and leaned back with a defeated sigh, laying her body against Dagonet's, her head against his head. She tipped her head back and looked up at his eyes beyond the bristle on his chin. "Sorry..." she whispered to him sincerely, not wanting to be another thing for him to worry about. Kolya
Zapped of all life-force it was. At least it was the closest of the two. There was something glinting in her eyes that made the old Sarmatian think, that engaged his brain. Something there was vivid and bright, something lurked behind her eyes that was burning and he didn't know what it was. He cuold be cocky and think it was a longing for him but he knew that was silly. What woman in her right mind, and Alina was in her right mind, would want a man like him? Old, battered, broken in more ways than one. He was a hazard and he had just proven that outside the tavern. And yet when she first spoke he knew exactly the answer to her first question. Why was he here? Why had he accidentally turned up in her life and fucked it up only to find her at her weakest, saddest ebb and offer her a surge of excitement? Granted it was the kind of excitement a loyal woman could do without given that she already had a lover but still. Life had surged in her. Life had been tangible in the beat of her pulse when she had been with him. Had he not given her what she had wanted? Granted there was no chivalry in cuckolding another fellow Sarmatian but Kolya could only regret that little fact and nothing else. When he peered sideways at Alina his blue eyes were narrowed. "I don't know..." he replied to her second question and rose up from the cold steps. He brushed the back of his trousers lightly and walked over towards Alina with his head bowed. He pursed his lips as he came to stand before her, his thumb pressing into the side of his index finger as he looked into her eyes and he then brushed his knuckle lightly over her cheek. "Have you had enough of me for today?" he asked in a quiet, husky tone of voice Drake Drake was patient. At least he was in most matters. He had had his little tantrum in the room and now sat quietly on the bed staring at nothing. He wasn't listening in deliberately but at some point during the afternoon he had heard Linnette speaking in hushed tones and she just happened to be doing so close to the wall that adjoined his. The realisation that this was how thin the walls were made Drake groan and he tipped his head forward into his spread palms. He shook his head, mussing up his short dark hair a little before throwing his head back and looking straight at the ceiling with a cast of resignation about his features. "Fuck." he muttered under his breath and then he caught a hint of what was being spoken of. A hand -- fingers, slamming, wall ... The Spaniard's ears almost pricked to attention and he held his breath, waiting for the inevitable outrage when his part was made known to Linnesse. But it never was - or at least she did not react in rage. Drake could not hear every word spoken but he had heard enough to know that either Linnette had not mentioned him in that fiasco or Linnesse had taken the news uncharateristically well. The old soldier got up off the bed and went to the saddlebags that he had flung unceremoniously on the ground earlier. He gave them a kick, gently, and hunkered down, patiently, quietly starting to remove items that he would need now that he was not going to Jerusalem as planned. It only took a short while and he got distracted as he came upon a small book that he had brought with him from Spain about one man's travels through the most easterly points of the Roman Empire. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 10 2010, 02:22 PM Post #117 |
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Author: Lancelot Date: Wed Jul 23, 2008 6:32 pm Lancelot Lancelot kept both eyes on the nun after he finished his declaration - he wasn't leaving Galahad alone to be poked and prodded by those in charge. Not without a fellow Sarmatian hanging about to make sure things didn't turn - uglier.
And she hustled away without so much as a by-your-leave, and worst of all, without even a hint of a smile. Lancelot sighed roughly, and turned back to face Galahad and the Woad girl who had been ordered by the oh so tough nun - I'll get her to crack...I will - to help. He cocked the eyebrow over his uninjured eye as he looked at Gawain.
"You don't want to stick around and watch me win the old ... charming woman over?" he flashed his teeth, wincing again as the wounds in his face pulled with the motion. "Don't fret, my friend, she will crack. I will perservere." Truth was, Lancelot was beginning to doubt his abilities. His exhaustion and his wounds and his dark thoughts regarding a specific Roman were dragging his normal charm down, and seeing Galahad like this, obviously out of sorts and honestly ... crushed, yes, that was the word, was making Lancelot either want to growl and hit something else, or to just crawl into a ball after drinking an entire bottle of wine and sleeping for several weeks. He blew out a breath, and scrubbed a hand over his hair, making the damp curls spring in strange whorls around his head. He shifted, and his swords bit into his back, fighting against his movements. That was odd - they were almost as much a part of him as his own skin was. They only complained when he was thinking too much or out of sorts. Arthur Castus. We are not finished, you and I. Lancelot bit the inside of his cheek until his eyes - both of them - watered. He watched Galahad struggle with his tunic after Fiona asked for permission to help him, and then sighed again as the pup got snagged in his own clothing.
A small smile crossed Lancelot's dirty features, and he rose creakily, leaning over Galahad, and took up the other man's shirt in his hands, gently disengaging the knight from his clothing. "You are hopeless, little brother," he said quietly, and turned away, clothing in hand. He looked at the Woad girl and pursed his lips, the flesh red and inviting and his face conveying every bit of haughtiness he knew he possessed. He also knew most women found it an attractive quality - his inner bastard was apparently desirable. "Young miss, he's all yours," he said, his tone only a tad mocking, and swept a fancy bow. Instead of reseating himself, however, he approached Gawain and stood next to the other man. "Think we can figure out a way to sneak out of here before she gets her fingers on us?" His leathers began to slide again, and he used one hand to surreptitiously hitch them up. Gods damn the asshole who'd stolen his "new" leathers to all the fires of eternal torture! Now he'd have to spend some of his slim amounts of money on clothing. Gods. Maybe Arthur had an old pair about.... |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 10 2010, 02:25 PM Post #118 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Wed Jul 23, 2008 7:33 pm Merlin
"No." Merlin shook his head and muttered his agreement to Nolan's words, his eyes on the two Romans, who were still arguing, Scipio now snapping back a retort at his not-so-subordinate subordinate. Ridiculous...the two of them couldn't even decide between themselves who was to do the talking. If they- who were Romans and therefore valued rank and structure above all things- could not even decide that, how could anything else they said be trusted. Merlin sneered openly now in response to Scipio's embarrassed half-smile. He was not going to simply tolerate this, then negotiate with whoever came out the winner of this little dispute. Merlin was done here. There was clearly nothing to be gained by talking to so divided an enemy, and with the strife between them he was confident that the four could be easily seen off of Woad land. His mind made up, Merlin beckoned with a small, imperious gesture for Nolan to follow him, then stepped back out of the hut, and disdainfully around Scipio, who was still trying to impose his will on the other man.
“I think all of us may stand down, as it were,” Merlin broke in smoothly, with mock pleasantness, and a shrug as though he regretted what could not be helped- but also with steel under his voice that brooked no argument. He was done with these two ridiculous strutting popinjays, and their two silent accomplices, too. There would be no negotiations today- only flight, or blood. “There seems no need for us to talk until you decide who is empowered to do so. And since that may take a while…” Merlin favored the two Romans with an evil smirk, one that saw through all their petty squabbling and right to their souls. They were scum, and they weren’t even organized. Unusual of Castus to send out two such idiots in his place- the fort commander must be badly wounded indeed. “…in the meantime, you will remove yourselves from our land.” Another gesture, anticipated by the two score Woads who ringed the clearing, and as one they reached for bows and arrows, neither of which were far away, and brought them up with a soft, ominous creak of wood, all pointing at one of the four riders from the fort. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 10 2010, 02:26 PM Post #119 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Wed Jul 23, 2008 8:26 pm Adian He watched her every movement: the way her cheek rested in the palm of his calloused hand...the way her eyes closed. Adian kind of guessed that this might be a new set of feelings for the young woman, and he reminded himself to move slowly. To go slowly and make sure they knew each other better before the right time came. Late Spring/Early Summer he guessed would be a right amount of time. Still, thoughts of Thorn haunted his mind. Her voice, her touch, the way she had moved under him on those nights when they shared love... In truth, he really knew little about the woman he had just proposed to. How odd that this woman had shown up in his life while he was still grieving over a woman who had shared his life? Tatiana as nothing at all like Thorn, but there was something about her that he couldn't place a finger on. Loyalty? It had been the only fault Thorn had had, and somehow, Adian kept thinking that he should have followed her and the knight she was with. Who had the man been, and who else had she slept with while professing her love to him alone? Adian's dark gray eyes looked at the delicate creature as she spoke...
"A wise woman? She must have been wise indeed," Adian whispered as he watched her eyes meet his plus the mischievous grin that accompanied it. The feel of her hand moving from his shoulder to the back of his neck made Adian shiver, her body stretching to allow her to place a kiss on his lips. Both of his hands went to her face, continuing the kiss she had started. The young man moaned softly. Was Tatiana seducing him? Was she even aware of what she was doing...what effect she had on him? "Tatiana..." his hands went from her face and moved to her neck, caressing the soft skin there. Despite his grief which was still very new, Adian felt his body change at Tatiana's closeness. He moved his head to kiss at her neck where his hands ran over the flesh there... But he would not go lower of further until she gave him permission to do so. So many bad things happened when one rushed a situation, and he was determined not to ruin this... |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 10 2010, 02:28 PM Post #120 |
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Author: sabor ice Date: Thu Jul 24, 2008 3:58 am Alina
She watched as he rose from the steps, and intangible emotion surged through her at the miserable sight of him coming toward her. What it was, though, she couldn't say. Concern? Horror? Anger? It could've been a many number of things, but every fleeting possibility didn't seem suffice for describing how she was feeling now. It was so internally damaging not knowing what or how to feel. Nothing felt in the right. Kolya came to stand before Alina, and troubled brown eyes lifted to meet disarming blue ones. The stroke of his knuckles lightly grazing her skin brought a momentary touch of warmth to her pale cheek. Nothing substantial. Nothing permanent. Just a touch. Just a touch, but she had felt it. The deep, dark waters of her ancient heart had spared her that much. She pulled her face away, faltering back a step and shaking her head. "Don't do that," she whispered, maneuvering around him then. Her hands dropped to her thighs, grasping and manipulating the material of her dress well above her ankles as she traipsed down the stairs. Her movements were not rushed, but borderlined precariousness. On the third to last step the woman miscalculated the distance and slipped, tumbling ungracefully forward onto the unforgiving cold ground below with a groan. On one of her hands held an abrasion from where it caught on the wall, the other was wrist deep in muck. Alina groaned, this time in frustration over her clumsiness, using her soiled hand and knees to push herself off the ground while the other cradled at her chest. She got as far as propping herself against the last step, then used her palms to hoist herself up onto it. She hunkered forward and placed an unsteady hand against her right ankle, hissing through her teeth at the throbbing pain there. It was sprained. "Damn it," she sighed, defeated. Resting her chin against her shoulder, the healer stared down at the mess she had made of herself. And, then something inexplicable happened. She started laughing - it was not happy sounding, more maniacal than anything - but laughter nonetheless. Then, she quieted abruptly, remembering that Kolya was still somewhere behind her. She raised her head but didn't look back. "Not a word," Alina said. |
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