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August 2008
Topic Started: Apr 12 2010, 09:09 PM (2,829 Views)
golden_trillium

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Summary here
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golden_trillium

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Author: sabor ice
Date: Fri Aug 01, 2008 3:03 am
Milan


Milan didn't expect Mari to understand the darkness in his
life. He, himself, found it difficult to fully grasp. It was
like a parasite that had long ago latched onto him, and slowly
over time it had ebbed away at his life-force, eating him from
the inside out. The darkness had always been an inescapable
part of his life, and on some morbid level, he had found
solace in that constant. Mari had provided him with renewed
hope. She was beginning to fill in the hole in his soul with
her love and her light. She had become his new constant. To
ever lose her would've been mortally devastating for Milan.

When she pulled away and sat back on her heels, so did he. He
cocked his head to the side inquisitively at the sudden
enthusiasm that lit up her pretty face. He wondered what she
was thinking.

Mari
 
"Come on - if we start now we might have our own little
place in a few days."


She was absolutely serious about this, wasn't she? She seemed
so certain they could do this, that they could fix up the
cottage. Milan, by nature, didn't immediately share her
optimism. It wasn't that he thought the endeavor impossible,
or that he didn't desire to engage in a project that would not
only make Mari happy, but also benefit them both by eventually
resulting in a quiet place for them to live together - Milan
was just curious as to how such a feat was to be accomplished.
The cottage was not even a remnant of a home just now. Would
it truly ever be anything more than rubble?

He saw the undeniable faith in Mari's eyes and sighed, nodding
in agreement.

It didn't take as long as he had earlier anticipated to clear
a good majority of the debris with Mari's help. Most of the
furniture was among the scraps to be thrown out, as it was all
damaged or rotted through. The bed would need to be replaced
eventually, too, but as long as the piece was holding out
decently enough, Milan wasn't going to bother.

Once they finished, Milan went to start a fire in the hearth
for the two of them. He snatched the coverlet off of the bed
and lay it on the floor before the warm blaze for Mari to sit
on. He retrieved the other blanket and then went to join her,
wrapping the material around them both as he snuggled in close
beside her. A stray strand of hair fell against her pale
cheek, and instinctively Milan raised a hand to brush it back
into place, his finger lightly tracing over the shell of her
delicate ear. He looked back at her, a soft half-smile tugging
at the corner of his mouth.
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golden_trillium

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Author: lady ione
Date: Fri Aug 01, 2008 11:48 am
Brendyn


He reverently made the sign of the cross, bowed, and then
reached for the helmet and spear he had brought with him.
Somehow it seemed disrespecful to bring such items into a holy
place, but he felt God's blessing should be placed also on the
tools of his trade. Looking once more that the crucifix,
Brendyn turned and left the chapel. He had not checked on
Tyranus since he had arrived and wanted to make sure the coal
black steed was taken care of.

The day was still gray, and morose looking. It had been a busy
day for him, and perhaps it all seemed like one bad dream.
Would Titrus be disappointed that he had not finished out his
punishment? What would Quintus tell him? That a stinky smelly
young soldier had been running about the fort looking of a
little impish woad? He could not afford to make many mistakes
so he had prayed for wisdom. He made his way to the stables
mindful of the position of the sun through the clouds.

All he could pray for now was that the wall was quiet and free
of incident...
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golden_trillium

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Author: Pinkie
Date: Fri Aug 01, 2008 3:14 pm
Galahad


Galahad was of the rather noble and ludicrous notion that his
wounds were all that bad. He was more wounded inside than out
so being here in the infirmary was just a pain in the arse
inflicted by his well-meaning brothers in arms. The young
knight wanted nothing more than to just curl up away from eyes
and away from people wondering, he wanted to forget about
Alina and Kolya for a little while. He wanted to pretend that
he hadn't just made a total arse of himself too...

When Fiona came to stand over him, her soft touches with the
cold cloth against his feverish, hard stomach made the knight
flinch. He hissed in a breath and glared down at the contact,
frowning deeply before banging his head back onto the mattress
and staring desolately at the ceiling. The muscles in his
abdomen clenched when the woads contact pained him, but he
tried not make any more noise.

Fiona
 
"Isn't it obvious?, I'm here to help. Why else would I
stick around?"


Wasn't it obvious?

Well, to Galahad, no.

Having spent the best part of his youth and all of his
adulthood in a life of servitude this idea of wanting to help
just for the sake of helping was rather obscure to him. When
Fiona looked at him he found himself looking straight into her
rather rivetting blue eyes. His nose twitched and he sniffed
when she looked away, tilting his head back, his adam's apple
bobbing against his pale neck. His look of composure was only
broken when a swipe of the cloth was felt hotly in the wound
on his stomach and Galahad clenched his muscles, his body
shifting slightly to one side to move away from the touch but
relaxed again shortly after.

Gawain
 
“I’ll be right back,”


Gawain's voice broke through Galahad's momentary spasm of pain
and he gave his Sarmatian friend a nod of his head, a
miserable nod, before sighing and once more taking up his
glare at the ceiling. He really didn't want Gawain hanging
around on his behalf. It was bad enough that Galahad had
little choice but to sit there and take Lavinia's
ministrations, it was entierly different for the other two to
remain. Speaking of two... Galahad lifted his head to see
where the prick was and saw him talking to a rather delicious
looking female. The young Sarmatian wheezed a laugh and
flopped his head back onto the bed for a third time, lifting a
hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

Fiona
 
"So ... what exactly happened?"


Now it was the little woad's voice that intercepted Galahad's
attempt to sink into oblivion. His mirthless laugh choked to
an end and he felt the emotion swell viciously in his throat.
His eyes were already shut, his head tilted far enough back
that Fiona would only see his face scrunch up a little and his
chest suddenly stopped it's rhythmic rise and fall as he held
his breath.

What exactly happened eh?

Well, he had been a fool for a start. A fool who was taken for
a ride in believing that someone like Alina might love him
despite all his faults, and they were many, as Lancelot liked
to remind him. He had then been a fool twice over by thinking
he could, as Gawain suggested, fight for her. And a fool three
times over by actually going ahead and, physically, fighting
for her against a man he knew he had no chance.

Releasing a pent breath, Galahad's hand lashed downwards
without warning, snapping tight about Fiona's wrist as she
tended to his wound. He halted her hand and peered down at her
with teary, blood-shot eyes, his chin tucked to his shoulder
to look at her, hoping that at this angle she might not see
the obvious upset in his eyes. His lips parted and a breath
caught in his throat. His fingers softened on her wrist and he
sniffed, the fight going out of him and his grip slid
downwards to her hand. The calloused tips of his fingers
traced over the back of Fiona's wet hand and Galahad shook his
head, turning his face away from her but leaving his fingers
where they were --

"Nothing." he lied poorly.









Eala

Eala followed the scenario as best she could but soon got lost
in all the goings on. She was only sure of one thing -- Ash.
He stood behind her with a reassuring hand at the nape of her
neck, the warmth of his flesh mingling with her own as she
tried to keep up. She was also sure that soon they would go
back to Badon and soon, very soon, she would avenge her
brother's death.

Black eyes darted left to right, watching Merlin with awe and
Guinevere with admiration. She couldn't keep up with any
speaking because no one was making a point of speaking to her
or taking their time to ensure she understood so she just
tried to decipher happenings by actions alone, and it was
difficult.

Mona was acting very strange and Eala cast a curious look to
Juna, the healer, to see if she would help her. But just then
movement frmo the hut where Merlin was speaking with the
Romans drew her eyes and she watched as one stormed out,
followed by the one who had put her onto the horse.

Pale teeth were bared as the men mounted and Eala glanced back
towards Ash as he retreated to a quiet corner. She remained
put, watching intently as things swirled around her. Unable to
keep up she dipped her head and backed off, watching the
Romans warily. She turned and ran into the bushes after Ash,
wanting to ask him what was going on, what she had missed. She
missed the Romans leaving - stepping around a fallen
tree-trunk as she came to hunker down close to Ash.

The little blonde draped her arms over her legs, her knees in
her armpits, fingers dangling on the ground. Not able to hear
had her looking over her shoulder to make sure no one was
coming and when she looked back at Ash she frowned, gesturing
to his stmoach with a questionning grunt.









Saoirse

It was one thing that Saoirse had learned the hard way with
fighting and living a man's life... it lead to the
inevitability of receiving men's wounds. Her teacher in the
art of battle had been ... well, whilst lenient would imply
far too much, he certainly had not ever drawn blood if he
could have avoided it. So it was only when she started
fighting in the real world and not the protected one inside
the walls of Leinster's finest castle, did Saoirse truly learn
about wounds. And she had learned ... alot.

She remained still as the nurse tended to her thigh, looking
upwards at Dagonet, her blue eyes roving about his haggard
face, wishing she could take away some of his pain, wishing
she cuold bring a smile to his face once more. He was a man
hurt deeply, hurt deep inside. He had surrendered his soul to
pain because it was much too hard to hold onto his soul whilst
it suffered. All she could do was hope that darkness would
deliver his soul back to him at the end of his grieving.

The nurse was finishing her bandaging...

Dagonet
 
"I think I need a shave also... Don't do anything like
that ever again, love"


The red head looked down at the off-white bandage about her
slender, pale thigh and flexed her knee tenatively. It bent
relatively well and only caused a minor ache to the wound, the
bandage remaining in place. Sighing, the Irish woman glanced
up sheepishly at Dagonet and turned to sit with one knee
hitched up onto the bed, her other leg dangling over the side.
Her hand reached out to his once more and she nodded her head,
looking rebuked and rogueish in rebuke.

"Promise." she told him, crawling forward to wrap her arms
about his neck and lay her head against his shoulder, brushing
her lips just beneath his ear and smoothed a hand up the back
of his head against his shorn hair. "I didn' mean t'worry ye."
she told him quietly, then withdrew a little, smiling at him
though there was no happiness in her smile.

"Wha's say I go get wha' we need?" Saoirse asked, seeking
solace in industry, looking to keep herself busy to avoid
dwelling on morbid matters which were still so close to the
surface. And as she spoke she was extricating herself from the
Sarmatians arms, careful not to antagonise her recently
bandaged leg. Both their clothes were ruined with the blood so
she would have to get a change of clothes from their room for
them both. Blue eyes narrowed as she looked at Dagonet, her
body poised over him in the process of moving away --

"Dagonet... ?" she asked quietly, "Y'll be alrigh' again won't
ye?" Saoirse's voice was barely above a whisper and filled
with the youthful, sorrowful pain of a woman who has already
lost one love too early in life.
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golden_trillium

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Author: LadyCastus
Date: Fri Aug 01, 2008 6:53 pm
Titrus


Titrus stood from his place on the bottom step at the base of
the ramparts. He shook the dirt from his cloak and ran a weary
hand through his thick hair, sighing. What a mess. And all of
it while the captain was away on orders. First the woad girl
escaped, then the brawl in the tavern and if that weren’t
enough, then finding out that the wall had been breached by a
broken side gate. Thank God for Quintus. He’d helped Titrus
hold things together, along with the help of Brendyn. Titrus
would be sure to tell the captain about both of them upon
Barbattus’ return. The guards who’d left the cell door open
would have to deal with the captain’s punishment when
Barbattus returned. Titrus cringed at the thought.

The lieutenant gave final orders of the day to the squad
commanders, making sure they were aware of the evening’s
rosters and all of the duties that were expected of them.
Titrus sighed again when he thought of the task, perhaps his
last for the day that now lay before him. In the captain’s
absence, Titrus would have to relay all the recent events to
the Commander Castus, himself. He was not excited about that
task at all. Titrus knew Arthur was a fair man, but he dreaded
having to be the bearer of such bleak news. Especially since
hearing the commander had been badly wounded in the last
campaign. Adjusting his cloak tighter around his shoulders
against the late-day cold wind, Titrus headed toward the
barracks. He kept his head lowered and his shoulders squared
while concentrating on the words he would use to tell the
commander about the escape. He imagined Arthur would be
furious in knowing the compound had been compromised by
god-knows-how-many rebels.

“Short, precise and to the point,” Titrus said aloud as he
quickened his pace through the commons, practicing his
presentation. “Facts. That’s all he needs or wants - is
facts.”

As Titrus walked inside the barracks, he half-saluted at the
sentries on duty. Once inside, he brushed off his cloak again
and adjusted his armor. He straightened his weapons then ran
his large hands through his hair once more. A cold chill ran
down his spine which he doubted was caused by the wind
outside.

The barracks were already dark inside and as Titrus walked
past the sconces that held the torches mounted on the stone
walls, lighting the way, shadows danced beside him, making the
passage eerie and unfriendly. The lieutenant made his way down
the long corridor toward Arthur’s quarters. When he got to the
commander’s door, he cleared his throat and moved his lips –
trying one last time to practice the words he was going to say
to Commander Castus. After a few moments, he raised a hand to
the massive door and knocked loudly. Then he stepped back and
waited until he was acknowledged.









Mona

Mona felt her grip slip from around the healer’s ankle. The
crazed woman gritted her teeth and rolled onto her side again,
curling into the fetal position. ‘They’ were all out to get
her, she knew it. She would just wait for Merlin to come to
her. Merlin would make it right for her. All she had to do
was…

Mona jumped when looked up as Guinevere slowly approached her.
In her mind, Guinevere had the head of an animal and her eyes
were glowing. Mona wanted to scream but no sound came out. Her
mouth was open but there was no noise. Suddenly, Guinevere was
on top of her, forcing some bitter thick liquid down her
throat. Mona gasped and gurgled and choked, but she couldn’t
stop the substance from sliding slowly down her throat. The
injured woman had no fight left in her so she fell limply into
Guinevere’s arms and swallowed the substance. Mona lay back
down on the ground. She couldn’t hear the voices in the ground
any more, they’d gone and left her all alone. Slowly, she
began to feel warm all over. Mona stopped shivering as the
liquid filled her veins. Her breathing became even and
regular. Mona looked at Guinevere again and saw the princess’s
real face again for the first time in a long time. The crazed
woman smiled at the other woad woman, which quickly faded to a
grimace.

“Forgive me, my princess,” she whispered and slowly closed her
eyes.
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golden_trillium

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Author: Unicorn
Date: Sat Aug 02, 2008 1:43 am

Mirtha


Ione
 
"I liked the time as well, Mirtha..."


He heard her words... and her laugh. It brightened a little
his heart and mind. Took him away from the dark thoughts. But
only for a moment. He should not come here in the first place.
Eventually it would bring her pain, because of his doings. He
was sure of it. He could not handle the world, the people...
anything while he was drunk, and while he was sober also. He
was trying to stop drinking. He was trying to change, but his
tries came up empty.

He had no motivation to do so. He was alone for so long that
he had lost himself, under the mask he wore... The mask of
tough man, not easly spoken to. He was hidden so deep behind
it that he forgott how to act like himself anymore.

But Ione said she wanted to help him. Was this even possible?
Could he stop drinking and drop the mask?

Probably fucking no! This was not possible for a man addicted
to alkohol for so many long years to stop this. It was too
late for him.

Why Ione could not see this?

Ione
 
"You don't have to if you don't want to. I cannot force
you to do something you are uncomfortable with...."


Sure.... Hell... He felt uneasy with this topic.

Uncomfortable? Yes, he felt uncomfortable about the situation.
He should not live with a gentle woman, while there was risk
of geting drukn and hurting her. He probably should not risk
this.

But somehow his heart ached for this.

He made his mind, already... He could not...

Ione
 
"I-I missed my cycle, and my stomach has been a bit
jumpy lately....I have been getting sick in the
mornings...."


Her worried face turned his thoughts around and he felt
concerned and responsible for her right now. His frown
deepened. Cycle? What the hell was that?

Those moments when woman is bleeding?

Yhea! He was an idiot when it comes to a women topics.

Ione
 
"I am so afraid, Mirtha...I've never been...I mean...I
think I am pregnant with Javier's child..."


Pregnant????????

He was looking directly at her with a deep frown. What was she
saying? How was it possible that she allowed him to make love
to her, while she was with child??

Was she aware of it?

No, she just said she thinks that she is pregnant. He shook
his head in desbieleve.

"What??"

He breathed out frustrated. That was the last thing he would
expect to hear from her right now. He looked away and threw
his cloak to the floor.. Was he angry?

Maybe...

Maybe disapointed in himself to crawl into a bed with a
pregnant woman!

Angry at himself... for possibilty of hurting her.

He looked back at her and saw that she was sobbing.

"Are..." he came closer. "Are you crying?" he asked, gently
puting a hand over her back.
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golden_trillium

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Author: Elessars Girl
Date: Sat Aug 02, 2008 6:51 am

Arthur


All other matters (even his own physical pains) had suddenly
fled from Arthur’s mind. Time seemed to stand still despite
the thunderous sound of his own pulse echoing inside of
Arthur’s head.

Every second that Darya withheld a response to Arthur’s
question only worked to intensify his apprehension….if she was
truly pregnant - with my child?? - then it would change
everything. Arthur felt Darya’s slender hand press over the
top of his where it rested on her stomach as if in silent
confirmation.

Darya
 
“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…”


“I see,” Arthur quietly acknowledged Darya’s explanation once
she finally spoke. He was certain that her voice gave away her
own apprehension at this new and very serious development in
their relationship.

Darya
 
“…and she was so very certain in the end…so certain that
I…that I am…that…”


Pregnant. The word echoed in his mind as Arthur finished
Darya’s sentence silently in his head and once again roughly
swallowed as the weight of that word – her condition - pressed
down on his conscience. Of course he would see to Darya’s
needs and support both her and their child….but how in God’s
name would Arthur be able to protect them from his enemies?
And he would need to make provisions for them both for the day
he would not return from battle….which Arthur knew was
inevitable. His life was forfeit and thus Artorius Castus
would leave his own child fatherless much as Uther had in
Arthur’s youth. It was a family tradition.

Darya had yet to meet Arthur’s discerning gaze, and was that
avoidance an indication that she was concealing some detail in
the matter? Yet as the Sarmatian leaned even closer to Arthur,
his skepticism was quickly replaced with compassion….for the
woman that he loved and who was now carrying his child.

Darya
 
“Gods, I cannot even say it…I cannot even say it…”


And as Darya finally turned up her eyes to meet Arthur’s gaze,
he shifted over on his side and brought the hand that had been
cupped over Darya’s abdomen to brush the loose strands of hair
from her face. Unfortunately, it was his wounded side that
Arthur now had pressed to the bed…but he masked the discomfort
from Darya’s view. Instead, he offered a gentle smile despite
his pain and the obvious reservations they both had about
Darya’s delicate condition. Her dark eyes appeared to be
flooded with doubt and fear….was she afraid that Arthur was
angry with her or would simply abandon her?

Darya
 
“I am so not prepared for this, Arthur…”


Arthur exhaled a breath through his nose in empathy while he
tenderly smoothed his hand over Darya’s brow. Having children
was something the two lovers had never discussed before….it
had never seemed possible – the Roman Commander and his female
Sarmatian ‘warrior’ becoming parents.

“Angel, we shall…” Arthur began soothingly but hesitantly as
he truly had no words. This new development still had the
typically stoic Roman flustered. “…manage it together, I
promise,” Arthur said while cupping at her cheek with all the
reassurances he could muster both in his touch and in his
liquid green eyes. Arthur then leaned in to place an almost
chaste kiss at the corner of Darya’s mouth. Despite his
outward show of strength and calm….Arthur’s gut was still taut
with his own apprehension….a child…now? God’s
punishment….surely.

In a perfect world, Arthur would have no need to constantly
beg God’s forgiveness for his sins….in a perfect world, he
would rejoice in the news of the impending birth of his first
child…in a perfect world….

…and then a firm knock came at the door to bring reality and
duty flooding back into the room.

Arthur outwardly groaned at the sound. But he had been
expecting the return of his officers at any moment, and God
willing, with news of a successful peace treaty mission.

“Forgive me, Angel,” Arthur murmured with apologetic eyes as
he forced himself to pull away from Darya; another groan at
his physical aches and pains as the Commander shifted off the
bed and stood to greet whoever was at his door.

“Come!” Arthur called out with authority while his hands
tugged at his black tunic to straighten his appearance before
the door would open. His side twinged and his head swam….no
doubt the Commander was still in need of bed rest, but duty
called….and always would.
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golden_trillium

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Author: Unicorn
Date: Sat Aug 02, 2008 7:07 am
Dagonet


Dagonet was looking at nurse's work instead of looking at
Saoirse, so he was not aware of the look of her eyes asthey
examined his face. He was not thinking right now about how bad
his situation was... He was not thinking about anything at
all. Just allowed himself a moment of breathing. Pain still
squeezing his chest, but in a smaller grasp. He just let
himself be numb for a moment.

When nurse went away, Dagonet looked back at Saoirse and the
way she tried her leg. Once her hand squeezed his, the tall
knight looked down at it.

Saoirse
 
"Promise. I didn' mean t'worry ye."


She wrapped her arms around his neck and put her head upon his
shoulder... murmuring her words. In this brief moment Dagonet
closed his eyes, both because he found a comfort in her
presence and that she promised to look after that kind of
things in the future.

When she backed away slightly, there was a smile upon her
face. Not a happy one, just a simple smile. His arms went
slowly around her slender form, weakly feeling her body. And
he would give a lifetime for this moment to last forever. Even
if it was not completely happiest moment it made his heart
ache for her... This moment made him believe there was
something more to live for. That he could make a slight
difference around him. If it was only the way to make her
smile. That there was still something worth seeing it. Like
her smile... Like her eyes...

Saoirse
 
"Wha's say I go get wha' we need?"


She moved away slowly, minding her own wound and also his
state. Dagonet allowed her this watching her leg, carefuly
watching her injured leg... He wanted to insure that nothing
else bad happens to her.

Saoirse
 
"Dagonet... ? Y'll be alrigh' again won't ye?"


Her question caught him offguard. He looked back into her face
with surprise in his eyes.

Alright? Again?

He was for a moment motionless, his eyes deep into hers.
Suffering of his heart evident in his look, in his face. So
deep suffering that he had never felt and never anybody had
endured. Was he going to be alright again? Ever?

He let this moment last for a longer time. This on the other
hand was not the thing he wanted to see forever.... He did not
want this question linger between them. Linger in him. This
was the time to answer this question - without hesitation,
without doubts. It was the time to give answer of his future
life.

Was he going to be alright?

"Aye... Little one." he whispered in the similar way as
Saoirse did, just a little above whisper. He would not be
again the same man as before. "I'll be alright... somehow...."

He swallowed in difficulty of this statement and the things he
had to do to be alright again. To be guardian of others once
more. To mend his broken heart.

"I just need time....."
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golden_trillium

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Author: TwistOfShadows
Date: Sat Aug 02, 2008 9:20 am

Eyla


Oh, but Eyla played! She had come to the infirmary to receive
her herbs, but Lancelot had been a delectable discovery. The
dark knight was handsome, and the harlot smiled up at him. Her
lips lilted into a feline smile, and her eyes sparkled with
intent. She knew this man very well, and was not ashamed.
Lancelot’s touch was heavenly, and his talent for charm
was…positively arousing. There were few men who could talk
like Lancelot, and Eyla favoured that. She liked the
challenge, the competition, the verbal duelling that came
before pleasure. The woman curled a tendril of hair around her
finger, feeling the silken hair tease across her skin. She
stood taller, arching her back into a more sensual and
petulant shape. She wanted him to fall at her feet, but in
truth, he was more clever than that. This conversation was not
all about seduction. Lancelot wanted to know about his
commander, and he would. At a price…

The knight took her hair from her fingers, and Eyla did not
protest. Her hand dropped to her side…but when he pulled at
it? Oh gods, her hand gripped her skirts hard, and she hissed
a gasp through her teeth. Her head fell back slightly,
exposing the most perfect neck. Pain? Just slightly, but
enough to send a shiver down her spine. Her lips parted.

Lancelot
 
"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? Come
come, sweeting, let's have some true gossip."


He released her hair, and Eyla’s lips shut slowly. She blinked
heavily up at him, the arousal evident in her eyes. He was
good, because he knew how to play her. They had pleasured each
other many times, and there was a familiarity there. He knew
her body, he knew how to make her want. But this was very
different. Lancelot was using her needs, to find out
something. But what? Oh, but if Eyla had understood the nature
of Arthur and Lancelot’s relationship, she might have
manipulated it. She might have understood. But the harlot did
not, and so she merely smiled up at the man. Eyla assumed this
was another game, and she loved to play…

Did he have a right to know gossip? Was he that bored? Eyla
arched an elegant eyebrow at him, and laughed. It was sweet,
but almost mocking…

“Good gods Lancelot, I had no idea you were so important…”
Eyla grinned. Her dark eyes sparkled, and she laughed again.
Her hand curled tighter into the folds of her skirt,
attempting to calm her excitement, and she whispered up at
him. Her voice was low, purring. “I had better be very careful
what I say then. I would hate to get into trouble…hmmm…?”

Oh, she would not tell him anything for free. He knew her
nature…

Lancelot
 
"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."


“Pitiably injured and abed? He is quite…capable…” Eyla smiled
cheekily, and laughed. She released her skirts, and touched
his chest again. Her small fingers tugged lightly at his
tunic, wantonly, and she did not take her eyes off him. He
seemed so very concerned with the Commander’s wellbeing, and
it intrigued her. Was the first knight growing soft? Gods, she
hoped not. Indeed, she hinted at pleasuring Arthur. She
played, because she knew no harm in it. The woman spoke again,
softly. “Artorius can be terribly demanding. His quarters are
such a mess, and I do so enjoy his company. He keeps me busy,
lover…and sometimes I have naught time for anything else…”

Eyla feigned exhaustion, but then burst into feminine
laughter. She tipped her head back slightly, her dark hair
curling about her shoulders.

“His woman does not like me much…” Eyla laughed, gripping
Lancelot’s tunic tighter. She moved closer to the knight,
pressing her small body against his lean and muscular form.
Her mind strayed to the image of Darya, stood moodily and
highly suspicious. Gods, but she was wonderful! Jealousy was
such an amusing emotion, such a delectable weakness. Looking
up at Lancelot, she pressed her mouth against his jaw. Just
gently. “Although I am always keen for your distractions, I do
not feel you can fully interrogate me here…”

Eyla smile suggestively.
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golden_trillium

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Author: Lancelot
Date: Sat Aug 02, 2008 11:34 am

Lancelot


The self professed first knight smiled at Eyla's reaction when
he let go the strand of hair he'd gently pulled on. It
promised much, but gave away nothing. He knew her; he knew her
lusts and desires and he also knew she was a master
manipulater if there was something she wanted. He also knew
that she knew him; they'd seen much of each other in the past
and fit well together in times of pure passion. Lancelot's
smile broadened at a particular memory as the harlot's mouth
parted slightly, her head dropping back to expose the long
line of beautiful throat. The knight shifted a bit as he
rested his hands on his hips - a pretty sight to be sure, but
one that wasn't new. He wasn't in the mood to play her type of
games - but he knew he'd have to if he wanted her to confess
what she knew about Arthur.

Eyla
 
“Good gods Lancelot, I had no idea you were so
important… I had better be very careful what I say then.
I would hate to get into trouble…hmmm…?”


His smile dropped from his battered face at her teasing. The
dark brows lowered and his eyes narrowed to sparkling slits -
he knew Eyla didn't mean anything by it, but his words with
the Optio earlier still burned and twisted inside.

Eyla
 
“Pitiably injured and abed? He is quite…capable…Artorius
can be terribly demanding. His quarters are such a mess,
and I do so enjoy his company. He keeps me busy,
lover…and sometimes I have naught time for anything
else…”


Lancelot's angular face seemed even sharper at her words - he
glanced down at her hold on his tunic, and had the sudden
thought of taking this woman, here in the middle of the
infirmary, in front of everyone - including Gawain, who she'd
had the audacity to 'check over' when he was standing right in
front of her. He highly doubted Arthur had ever done anything
with Eyla, other than to feel guilt at any attraction to her
and rush off to pray for his sins. Lancelot had been here, had
bedded her, and had given her as much pleasure as she had him.
Arthur was too loyal and too innocent to stoop to their level.
He was too righteous and too good to lower himself next to
Lancelot - to allow for Lancelot's past, to acknowledge the
blackness in the first knight that only Arthur had been
allowed to see the reasons for.

Lancelot barely surpressed a snarl; luckily, Eyla's laughter
covered the noise.

Eyla
 
“His woman does not like me much…”


A dark, rumbling laugh erupted from Lancelot, and he felt it
against Eyla's body as she stepped closer to him. "For good
reason, I think, my darling. Sarmatian women are not always
the most patient of our kind." He smiled, and shuttered his
emotions with the expression. Fuck Arthur. Lancelot would deal
with that .... issue later. When he'd had a bath, some food, a
rest, and perhaps Eyla bouncing under him. And not necessarily
in that order. His body tightened in anticipation, the anger
he felt toward their shared 'concern' only dampening a bit. It
would serve Arthur right if he fucked the man's maid to get
information the commander was hesitant to share with Lancelot
himself. Lancelot - the only man that had knowingly come to
love Arthur after hating him from the beginning.

Love. Gods damn him. And me.

Eyla
 
"Although I am always keen for your distractions, I do
not feel you can fully interrogate me here…”


Her warm lips were against his jaw, and it was all Lancelot
could do to not sling her over his shoulder and take her
against the wall. His anger boiled inside him - green eyes
haunted and tormented him, even as he turned his head and
breathed deeply of the harlot who'd just come from Arthur's
bed. He feathered his own mouth over her cheek, and pressed a
long fingered hand against her back. "How can I be sure you'll
give me what I want?"

His voice was low and guttural, and he pulled back, separating
their bodies. Her power lay in touch and manipulation, and he
wasn't going to give himself over that easily.

Something appeared in the corner of his good eye, and he
grunted in shock as the crotchety nun was suddenly next to
him, slapping something wet over his swollen shiner.

Mother Lavinia
 
“Hold that compress to your eye. It will help. 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."


All of Lancelot's carefully planned words flew out the window;
his hand rose helplessly and held the stinking poltice to his
black eye. He glared at Gawain, who had followed the nun over.
"I see you found her," he gritted. "I cannot thank you
enough." The sarcasm in his tone dripped from his lips, and he
turned his gaze on Eyla as the nun chastised her as well.
You'll receive what you came for?

Oh, this just got more interesting. Had Arthur sent Eyla to
retrieve some type of medicine for him - without telling
Lancelot about it? Was the commander worse than Lancelot
believed?

This day couldn't possibly get any worse.
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golden_trillium

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Author: Kay
Date: Sat Aug 02, 2008 4:17 pm
Guinevere


The princess watched as the potion took effect, but just then
a sudden noise caught her attention. A scream. Neeria's
scream!

Guinevere whirled around just in time to see her friend being
dragged atop a horse with one of the Romans. She stared in
horror as the speeding animal galloped away, taking Neeria
with it.

Mona
 
“Forgive me, my princess,”


The princess turned back to the injured girl. Mona's voice was
no more than a whisper. Guinevere saw a glimpse of the warrior
she had known in the girl's eyes as she looked up at the
princess. Then Mona's eyelids drooped and she lay still, but
the steady rise and fall of her chest were sure signs that she
still lived. The princess hoped that Mona would regain her
wits whilst she slept. One of their finest female warriors
seemed lost now; speeding away on an enemy horse; Guinevere
did not want to lose another.
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golden_trillium

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Author: lady ione
Date: Sat Aug 02, 2008 4:34 pm

Ione


As she placed her own cloak about her shoulders getting ready
to go find something to eat, Ione could tell things were
already not what she thought they'd be. Damn it! She had
betrayed Javier's love with a man who she knew little about.
What was she? Some sort of ninny? The memory of lying in
Javier's arms while he placed the still present ring on her
finger...it weighed like gold on her soul...so precious. Ione
had hoped that Mirtha would understand, but all she saw was a
frown. The feeling that she had said something wrong. The same
feeling she had gotten once before.

Ione cursed herself for placing her love on such rocky ground.
A free spirit like Mirtha would never settle down, and why had
she offered to help him anyway? Each man created his (or her)
own destiny, and Mirtha seemed to have set his course firmly.
She always cared too much. The way his frown deepened. The
shake of his head...

Mirtha
 
"What??"


Ione's eyes now became wide as Mirtha turned from her and
threw his cloak on the ground, and the voice that had once
professed her love for this man was now shaking, "I-I said I
think I am pregnant..." Ione felt Javier's spirit close to her
giving her strength. Gods above! She should have left with him
for Spain when she had the chance. She loved him so much! How
could she possibly love anyone else as much? Plus she refused
to take off his ring, and she was going to have a child.
Javier's child. The young weaver could not force Mirtha to
stay and take care of someone else's child... it was not fair
to Mirtha nor to Javier....

Mirtha
 
"Are..." "Are you crying?"


"Mirtha..." Ione felt tears in her eyes, and his hand on her
back. Ione moved away from him, and went to stand by the door.
He had to understand and hear what she had to say. "I don't
think it'd be right for you to stay here, and look after me
and Javier's child. I love Javier still with all of my heart,
and...will never take off his ring. I will be alright..." Ione
opened the door to the fading light of the day, and turned to
the man she had given herself to twice. "All I ask of you...is
to just be my friend like you always have been. You told me
once that you were a free spirit, and I cannot take that from
you...I just feel that it is wrong to give myself to you while
my thoughts are still with Javier..." Shit Ione! Ye should
have thought of that before you thought stupidly The young
woman was thoroughly angry at herself, and she needed to be
alone.

Somewhere inside, Ione still hoped that Javier would come back
for her, though she had already felt that she'd be a single
mother. As a matter of fact, she needed no one's help. Ione
was sick of blindly falling in love, and decided that she had
had enough of being hurt....

"I am going for a walk...I just need to be alone right now..."
Ione took a few steps into the dimming gray of late afternoon,
and began walking...
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golden_trillium

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Author: linnet
Date: Sat Aug 02, 2008 8:37 pm

Juna


Merlin’s smile of satisfaction directed at Juna did not escape
her attention. Not much involving Merlin ever escaped her
attention. The smile flashed just a hint of cockiness, and she
savored it like the warmth of the sun. She herself smiled in
deep appreciation of his charismatic power. And she smiled in
relief. There had been no violence or bloodshed between the
Woads and the Romans here. She trusted that meant Merlin could
keep his promise of peace. She had no delusions it could be a
permanent peace, but right now more warfare would be
disastrous to his people, and thus to Merlin.

Movement and some sound behind her shifted Juna’s attention
momentarily from Merlin. Ash was moving away from the others,
and as he walked by Mona, he unceremoniously rolled her aside
with his foot. Juna’s already favorable opinion of the quiet
young warrior was solidly reinforced. She watched as he found
an isolated place to sit, and it was easy to see that the
wound she had helped him with yesterday had been aggravated.
Eala too left the others to be with Ash. Juna looked once more
at Merlin who was giving an order as the last of the Romans
were about to leave. She’d just have to miss seeing the rest
of his triumph, because Ash needed her.

With her bag slung over her shoulder, she skirted around
Guinevere and Mona. Merlin’s daughter was just about to give
some of the potion to the lunatic. It would keep the woman
quiet one way or the other, the healer thought. She tried to
approach Ash slowly so as not to startle Eala. “Ash,” she
said, nodding her reserved greeting as she set her bag on the
ground. She looked into Eala’s dark worried eyes and smiled to
reassure the girl. Juna was very grateful that Ash had
succeeded in rescuing Eala from the fort. And she found it sad
that he was here now, hurting, when he should be receiving
praise and honor. She trusted that Merlin would officially
recognize the young man’s bravery as soon as he was able.

The healer knelt beside Ash, and carefully began to remove the
tattered, dirty remnants of the bandage she had applied to his
wound previously. She worked as gently as possible, knowing
the pain involved in pulling away the bits of cloth soaked
into the bloody gashed flesh and later dried. She tried to
keep her own expression relaxed for Eala’s sake.

Malcus
 
“We’ll just take back what we offered until you’re ready
to talk.”


Neeria
 
“NO!!!! NO!!!!!”


Juna’s neutral expression turned to a concerned frown as she
glanced at Ash before standing to look back at what was
happening. She saw Neeria being carried away on horseback,
slumped in the grasp of one of the Romans. She couldn’t
continue to watch what would happen. Her priority right now
was getting Ash out of danger. She knelt down again and went
back to work on the injury. “Today has convinced me that
Merlin’s female warriors are far more trouble than they are
worth. Women can be fierce but we’re an unstable, emotional
lot, Ash.”
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golden_trillium

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Author: sabor ice
Date: Sun Aug 03, 2008 2:01 am
Ash


Juna would get to him as soon as she was able, and until then
he would just wait. Ash was not a dramatic person. He'd didn't
linger and make a scene of himself in front of the others. If
possible, Ash was one to avoid fuss altogether. He had
suffered innumerable cruelties throughout his lifetime. His
sanity had been challenged, his faith tested, his body
battered, and his spirit broken. At times the world was a
dismal place - a trickster, a liar - that blindsided him into
believing there was no hope at all. Throughout trial and
tribulation, however, Ash had learned to endure, to rise above
his troubles and prevail. The impairment that poisoned him now
was just another trial to endure, to rise above. He wasn't
about to throw salt into his own wound by convulsing into
unnecessary hysterics. What didn't kill him would only make
him stronger.

He lethargically turned his head against the fallen log he
rested in front of, watching Eala as she hunkered down and
gestured worriedly to his bloody mid-section. She had
re-defined what it meant to him to be stronger. Strength came
from a place much deeper than physicality. It came from the
heart. It came from compassion. The irony, Ash doted upon, for
he had always viewed himself as a selfish being. Perhaps he
still was despite his sacrifices. He needed her more than she
needed him, or maybe he just needed to be needed. To feel
again. Ash didn't recall when he had first become one of the
fallen.

Juna
 
“Ash. Today has convinced me that Merlin’s female
warriors are far more trouble than they are worth. Women
can be fierce but we’re an unstable, emotional lot,
Ash.”


Unstable and emotional or not, Juna was an angel of mercy.

He removed his hand from keeping pressure on his side and
reached behind his head to tug off his soiled tunic, allowing
the healer easier access to the wound in question. The cold
did not bother him - in fact the nullifying sensation was
quite welcome under the circumstances. He almost couldn't feel
a thing. Almost. She peeled away the filthy leather strips
that had once been Eala's wristbands, the ones he had holed up
the gash with after the stitches there had completely burst.

"Ah!" he hissed, color flooding to his pale cheeks. He grit
his teeth, causing the columns in his neck to visibly strain.

An indistinct shout momentarily distracted Juna, but Ash's
attention remained fixated on the grotesque opening in his
side. His body involuntarily shuddered, not from the cold, but
from the pain he was in. The physical agony was not even half
as bad as he felt on the inside. The sick feeling that had
been washing over him since leaving Badon was borderline
unbearable. It had never occurred to him how quickly an
infection might settle into a wound such as his from prolonged
exposure. His unsteady hand briefly hovered over the opening,
his fingers curling inward to his palm then and the fist
dropping aside again. He swallowed hard, allowing his head to
loll against the fallen trunk behind him as Juna returned to
her ministrations.

"Don't worry," Ash told Eala, watching her with half-lidded
eyes. He gave a weak wry smile. "You won't get rid of me that
easily."

He didn't plan on dying today, and he certainly wasn't going
to even consider it while Eala was watching. Besides, he had
faith in Juna's healing capabilities. Ash was certain he had
been worse off many-a-time before. He'd make it as always. He
was a fighter.
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golden_trillium

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Author: Darya
Date: Sun Aug 03, 2008 3:19 am
Darya


How strange that in a situation where so much could…or
should…be said, there was mainly silence. The dark Sarmatian
sensed that her lover apparently was just as shocked and
surprised as she had been…or still was. However, Darya
interpreted it as a good sign that Arthur did not withdraw
from her immediately and assumed that he was perhaps silently
talking to his God. She knew he did that very often… It was
something she did not always understand…but had accepted and
learned to respect. But then there came his quiet
acknowledgment of her words and it encouraged her to finally
let her dark gaze meet his emerald one.

Arthur
 
“Angel, we shall…manage it together, I promise,”


Darya held her lover’s gaze for a bit longer, but when he
cupped her cheek and briefly pressed his lips to the corner of
her mouth, the dark-haired closed her eyes and unconsciously
clenched her jaw slightly. Maybe she should have waited a bit
longer…maybe she should not have told Arthur already. He was
in pain, the Woads were still a threat…he and the knights had
just returned from battle… All this plus her pregnancy
certainly being the most unexpected of all possible news she
could have given him suddenly sent a jolt of guilt through her
mind. But on the other hand…Arthur was the father and
therewith the first one who should know…as soon as possible.
That was how it should be, was it not? Gods, how should she
know? No one had ever told her how to deal with such a
situation.

“I’m sorry…”, she finally murmured and briefly but gently
brushed her nose against Arthur’s…and her lips parted to add
something…

…when a firm knock came at the door. Darya re-opened her eyes
at the noise and Arthur’s reaction to it. She just looked at
the Roman, her eyes still flooded with emotions, but she did
not say anything. Their private moment was over…

Arthur
 
“Forgive me, Angel.  Come!”


The Sarmatian could not tell if she wanted to curse whoever it
was who had just interrupted them by knocking at the door or
if she was even grateful for the distraction. Now that she had
told Arthur what was going…now that he knew, Darya
felt…strange. To actually talk about the latest development in
her life for the first time since Isolde had confirmed that
she was not ill but with child finally made the dark-haired
realize it. A lot would change for her…for her and Arthur, she
guessed. And yet Darya was still not sure how to handle her
own new condition. Since Sarmatia had been run over by Rome
and since she had come to Britain, there had not been a single
moment of her even considering having children one day. Under
Corvus' command she could have died any day…and even though
that had somewhat changed by now, this island was still a
dangerous place. Not to mention the fact that the life she had
lived so far had mainly been one with no space for such a
fragile creature like a child. Back home in Sarmatia, yes…that
would have worked…but here? In this life as a warrior? As the
assassin she knew was still inside her?

Again Darya blinked and gave Arthur an understanding nod after
having shot a brief glance towards the door. She knew it was
not Lancelot standing in front of it for the First Knight
usually entered without knocking or waiting for permission for
that matter. Perhaps the Optio was back already? Or maybe it
was Neeve, who had finally returned with food and to check on
the Commander’s injury again?

The Sarmatian took a deep breath and schooled her features to
neutrality to mask her inner emotional turmoil. She shifted on
the bed and stood as well, silently scanning her lover as she
did so. He was all the Commander again now…but as her eyes
lingered on where she knew his injury was, Darya almost
thought she could feel his physical pain for a moment. And no
doubt her news was not really helpful to make him feel better.
Not in that life the two of them were living. She knew the
Roman well enough to know that it would keep his mind
busy…very busy…and not necessarily in a positive way only.
Sighing quietly, the woman brushed her hands over her dress to
straighten out the thick drapery and prepared herself to leave
if it was indeed the Optio who had returned…or any other
urgent duty call for Artorius Castus, the Commander. Dark eyes
lingered on the heavy door…waiting to see who would enter the
room…
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