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| August 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Apr 12 2010, 09:09 PM (2,832 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | Apr 20 2010, 01:38 PM Post #166 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Mon Aug 25, 2008 8:02 am Linnesse
"Of course, Ione...and be sure to get some rest." The other woman had stumbled just sligtly on the flagstones, betraying, Linnesse thought, either sadness or weariness, or more likely both. In truth, though she wanted to comfort Ione, she was still very tired herself, and wanted to get back to her interrupted sleep. When would this lethargy that seemed to be the only lingering residue of the illness finally pass? The rest of her was fine- no more trace of fever, no more headaches, good appetite, though she was still thinner than she normally was- but she couldn't even do a few hours light chores without being falling-over tired at the end of it. During the move, it wasn't as though she had had to do any more during the move than fold clothes, make a couple of beds, and arrange various small items- but still, it had left her exhausted. Burrowing her shoulders deeper into the blanket- they felt cold whenever she had let it slip just a bit- Linnesse pushed the door the rest of the way shut with a click and, yawning, blew out the candle and wandered in the dark back into the inner bedroom. The dress she left where it was on the table for now- she would put it away properly in the morning, but right now she just wasn't inclined to do anything other than rest. She felt heavy with the news she had had to give Ione, saddened all over again- but mostly just tired. How late was it? It couldn't be that late, if neither Derfel or Linnette had yet returned- and that realization was a comforting one for Linnesse, because it meant she had hours and hours yet to sleep, and maybe by morning she would have shaken this consuming fatigue off. Maybe. Sighing deeply, Linnesse crawled onto the bed again, pulled the second blanket over her as well, and in another moment was once more asleep in her warm nest, curled in a half-ball on her side. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 20 2010, 01:40 PM Post #167 |
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Author: Darya Date: Mon Aug 25, 2008 11:09 am Neeve
“I see…”, the healer murmured quietly and watched the hawk for a bit, silently wondering where her own bird – her beloved raven Dwyn – might be right now. It had been a while since she had seen him circling above her. Well, he had probably found a cosy place in one of the barnes… “Well, I’m sure she’ll be alright again soon. Let me know if you need help with her, okay?”, she added and gave Tristan a nod to underline her words…
Neeve arched an eyebrow at the Sarmatian but before she had the chance to say something, Jols joined them at the table and the Briton found herself using that moment to glance over towards the overly pensive looking Derfel…and Lucius. She took another bite from her apple and was just about to finally react to Tristan’s further words about the mission when Jols spoke…
The raven-haired woman nodded in greeting at the squire and shifted a little to give the older man more space. However, when he addressed Tristan, the healer frowned at his words and looked from him to the scout, honestly curious about the other man’s reply to Jols' question. So it had not only been Merlin not wanting to talk…apparently more had caused the mission to…not be exactly successful by the looks of it... And obviously Jols already had some more details about what had happened. Interesting… |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 20 2010, 01:41 PM Post #168 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Mon Aug 25, 2008 2:24 pm Tristan
That was an interesting way of looking at it...as the squire sat down, Tristan thought about with his mouth twisted thoughtfully and a bit disgustedly to one side, running over in his mind what had happened that afternoon. In the end, though, he came up with only a resigned shrug. "Scipio maybe...he was in charge, shoulda known better. But Barbattus..." Tristan bent to scoop up another mouthful of soup, then slumped grumpily lower in on the bench, leaning his back against the wall. Under the table, his booted feet propped themselves against the opposite table leg. "Any Sarmatian acted like that woulda been whipped," he grumbled as he fished out another, smaller piece of meat for the hawk. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 20 2010, 01:42 PM Post #169 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Mon Aug 25, 2008 2:29 pm Drake and Galahad
For some reason, Drake couldn't imagine Linnette in either of those places. Well, Rome perhaps, but only at the stretch of his imagination. But to imagine her in Egypt was ... strange, to say the least. Perhaps it was because all of his experiences in these places had been something to do with his job, with work and with fighting, protecting. He had never once been to these places because, like Linnette, he had wanted to go there. He had been ordered there, or the tide had taken him there in respect to Jerusalem. But he had never taken off into the wilderness with a thought of 'I want to go there'. The Spaniard looked sideways at the woman, trying to picture here with a cloth about her face to protect her fair skin from the cutting sand in the desert and almost smiled at the image. Yes. Yes she would actually like that, wouldn't she? Ambling along on a camel through the desert from town to town, meeting new people and learning about these places. No doubt she would balance their ledgers whilst there too. When they got to the infirmary Drake went up the steps first, holding the door open for the auburn-haired woman. She seemed reluctant, almost. Hesitant for certain. He saw her brave smile and flinched, wanting to protect her from things she didn't want to face. Was she ready for this? To see her father-in-law so soon? It wasn't his place to interfere like that though. If Linnette wanted to go to Dagonet then he would be there at her back regardless. However, once inside he spotted a familiar, dark-haired figure on a bed sulking in a corner. "Galahad?" he murmured, his mind turning to Alina, wondering why the Knight was here. His green eyes questionningly moved from Galahad to Linnette, puzzled. The Knight had not been injured during the mission, had he? No -- not so far as Drake could recall, he had been there with Alina, hadn't he? So why was he now in the infirmary? Had there been another attack or ... something? The young knight huffed out a petulant breath and turned his head, letting Drake see the bruise on his cheek, the split lip and the surly expression. When he saw Drake looking at him, Galahad harumphed and turned over on his side. Drake cocked an eyebrow at that and approached the bed, a hand to Linnette's back to let her know he was deviating a little -- "You've seen better days..." he commented. Galahad tsked but didn't turn around to look at Drake or Linnette. "Bugger off old man." he murmured. Drake gave a wry grin and glanced over his shoulder at Linnette. Galahad's foul mood did not dissuade him at all but he wouldn't delay Linnette if she had to be with Dagonet. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 20 2010, 01:44 PM Post #170 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Mon Aug 25, 2008 2:47 pm Linnette
Curious, Linnette turned her head at the light touch on her back, then followed Drake over to the bed on which Galahad lay, his grumpiness emanating across the intervening space even from here. She didn't want to linger...but the nervousness was increasing with every step she took towards Dagonet, even though at this point she wasn't even sure if he had seen her yet. She wouldn't stay long...but right now her mind found reason to be curious about Galahad, latching onto the small distraction, even if under normal circumstances she wouldn't have given him much thought. Consequently, as she drew nearer the bed, she noted his visible injuries- a darkening bruise on his cheek, a lip crusted with dried blood around a significant cut. He looked...rather like he had been punched. Not exactly a battle wound, she would think, and from the limited details she remembered from the knights' return from the mission, she hadn't thought he was injured then
Linnette felt a stab of vicarious indignation at that. Bugger off, old man? What kind of greeting was that? Typical of Galahad, who was no more than an overgrown baby anyway, despite being several years older than the polite and responsible Gedeon had been. "That was rude," Linnette informed the injured knight with disgust, looking down on him as though speaking to a child. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 20 2010, 01:46 PM Post #171 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Mon Aug 25, 2008 5:19 pm Malcus Barbattus Malcus sat straight up in his bed, startled. The captain shook his head and rubbed his eyes. Momentarily, he didn't know where he was. Slowly, reality crept its way back into his sleepy mind. He must have fallen asleep while waiting to be summoned by either Arthur or... Malcus couldn't bring himself to call his name. To him, it was no better than raising Satan himself. Barbattus ran his hands through the tangled mass of hair atop his head and swung his long legs over the side of the bed. What a fucking mess this was. He should never have gone on that pitiful mission. He should have known better. But Arthur had ordered him and for Arthur, he would give his life. The captain stood and stretched. He walked over to his basin and splashed cold water on his face again. The hunger pangs in his stomach assaulted him viciously. What in the bloody hell is taking so long? he wondered. He knew he could be punished for insubordination which was absurd. Scipio was a pompous jack ass who would have gotten them all killed. He actually killed one of Merlin's men and how did he think the magician would take to that? Malcus yanked open the door to his room and strode purposefully toward the guards stationed down the hall. "Send someone to fetch me some dinner. Have them bring it to my quarters." Malcus handed the guard a couple of coins. "Oy, captain!" the guard said and saluted. Malcus grunted and saluted back, turning and walking back to his room, slamming the door behind him. He hoped the food would come quickly. At least he would face Arthur on a full stomach. The boy ran into the tavern, looking around for someone to take his order. The guard had told him to hurry, the food was for Captain Barbattus. If he was lucky, he'd be able to get an extra piece of bread for himself. Looking around, he didn't see any of the ladies that he recognized. Not wanting to take too long, he spotted Jols over in the corner talking with Arthur's knights - the scout and Bors. Petri scurried over to where they were sitting. "Jols! Pardon tha bother, but I need ta fetch some eats for Captin Barbattus and real fast too. Kin ya help me?" he asked, wide eyed. Mona Mona groaned as the woads lifted her battered, bruised, bloody body onto the make-shift stretcher. Whatever potion had been shoved down her throat had cleared her mind. A little. Her head lolled back and forth as her countrymen carried her through the forest. Mona stared up at the treetops as they passed overhead. Merlin. Oh, how she loved him. But he only saw favor for that bitch Neeria and his precious little Guinevere. He would pay for ignoring Mona. Of that she was sure. If she couldn't have Merlin for herself, then nobody else would either. She smiled brightly as the first stars of the evening shone from the sky. Titrus After the evening roll call was complete, Titrus decided to head to the tavern for supper. Tidying up the captain's desk, the lieutenant made sure that everything was put in its proper place, just the way Barbattus liked it. He could only imagine what kind of mood Malcus would be in once he and Titrus were finally able to catch up. Titrus gritted his teeth at the thought. Confident that everything was in order, Titrus closed and locked the office door and made his way out of the building. As he crossed the commons, he ran into Quintus. "Quintus! I've just finished the roll call. I was looking for your earlier. I wanted to tell you that my report to Commander Castus went well. I assured him that there would be no possibility of a breach at that gate again." Titrus raised his arm to Quintus to indicated that they walk and talk. "I also wanted to inform you that Captain Barbattus is back. I have not seen him, however. He is sequestered in his quarters," Titrus paused and looked at Quintus. "I don't think that's a good sign. I don't know what happened but it can't be good." "How about getting some supper and seeing what we can find out?" Titrus knew that there may be talk in the tavern that might reveal what happened on the mission. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 20 2010, 01:47 PM Post #172 |
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Author: Starbelle Date: Mon Aug 25, 2008 5:36 pm Jols After asking Tristan his query, Jols swallowed his bite of bread and reaching for his mug, while waiting for the soup to cool slightly, took a few sips of the amber-colored liquid glancing at the Scout over its rim.
"Hmm..interesting. You're right about that." The squire replied musingly after hearing his answer. Placing the mug down and scooping up a spoonful of now cooled soup and swallowing it before making his next comment. "I wonder though.. since it sounded like the mission doesn't go according to Scipio's plan..and if the Commander doesn't like the outcome either...what'll happen next?" He asked Tristan curiously. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 20 2010, 01:48 PM Post #173 |
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Author: SarmatianKnight Date: Tue Aug 26, 2008 4:31 am Lucius Lucius followed the gesture of his new friend and saw the young woman, serving some soldiers. She looked cute. She looked like his sister although slightly more plump. But the resemblance was big enough to be recognised and to remind him what he had lost and what price he paid.
No doubt the offer was a kind one and all Derfel wanted for him was a good night to remember but within the blink of an eye all that Lucius wanted was to get out of here and be alone. He ignored the offered grin of the Saxon. "I say no." With this he stood and left the other man without another explanation about what he did or what was wrong. Fresh air was what he needed right now. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 20 2010, 01:51 PM Post #174 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Tue Aug 26, 2008 9:08 am Merlin Shortly afterward, the now-rather sorry group was on their way. The two dead had been covered by branches- a contrite Guinevere helping- in the shadow of the hut where they had died, and Ash and Mona had been positioned on litters, Ash stoic but grimacing a little from the pain, Mona apparently oblivious to everything, just staring at the sky with a crazy smile on her face. Merlin still didn't quite understand what it all meant- her sudden, unexpected descent into madness, if madness it was, or exactly what role Neeria had played in all this- but right now, his priority was to get everyone to safety, away from this camp whose location was now known to the Romans, even if they did not venture forth from their fort again until morning. Merlin firmly intended to once more melt his people unseen back into the woods, back to their hidden village to the west. There was no more to be gained here. Back at the village, he would plan. He would think, and consult the Gods, and the omens, and his most trusted advisors, and he would determine what his next step in the war against the oppressor should be. And he would make no more truces, no more promises to those who kept none. If defeated, they would retreat and hide, but they would promise nothing, make no treaties. The Gods had showed him in ample measure that such consideration to the conquerors of their sacred land was wrong. When they had been walking along for a while by torchlight, they paused briefly to change litter-bearers, and as the group milled around momentarily, Merlin once more sought out his daughter. He wanted to speak to her more about this, see if she had learned the lesson he wanted her to- and see if she could shed any more light on Mona's behavior. "Guinevere," Merlin greeted her, coming up to stand beside her and gazing over in the direction of Mona's litter. The woman's head was lolling senselessly, her detached, nonsensical smile visible even from where they stood. "When did she start acting strangely? Were there no hints of it before she attacked you?" Merlin rubbed his beard thoughtfully as he spoke, then started walking slowly again as the group got underway. Quintus
"Sure." The centurion nodded his assent and fell into step with Titrus in the direction of the tavern. Food would be welcome- the blocking up of the little gate had been a long job, but it was done well, and the men gone off to a well-deserved rest. The Woads wouldn't be getting in that way again- and the two idiot guards that had let that girl out would be mucking out the stables for a month, in addition to whatever else Captain Barbattus decided for them when he was ready to. But...sequestered? "Sequestered like 'wants to be alone', or sequestered like 'ordered to'?" Quintus asked Titrus skeptically, throwing the other man a sideways glance. Quintus, too, had heard the flying rumors that the mission hadn't gone well, and though no one seemed to know exactly how, there were plenty of vivid descriptions of the Optio's furious face when he had arrived back and stomped off to the Commander's quarters going aroud. And as far as anyone knew, Optio and Commander were still in the latter's quarters, deep in council- or blame-assigning, or whingeing, or whatever officers did behind closed doors. "Sounds like a mess," Quintus added darkly as he pushed the tavern door open and entered the warm, stuffy atmosphere of crowded, eating, drinking, dice-playing humanity. Tristan
"Tchh." Tristan made an inartculate sound of discontent to that- he didn't know what would happen, and he didn't feel at all qualified to speculate on that. The minds of high Roman officers, even Arthur, whom he respected like no other, were largely a mystery to him. Well...actually, maybe he could think of something Arthur would do- not wisely, but he would do it anyway. "Arthur'll go out there himself." Tristan rolled his eyes and shook his head hopelessly, clearly communicating that he thought the whole thing was a waste of time, and possibly dangerous for Arthur, to boot. Woads were Woads, and they weren't interested in keeping promises. Tristan bent for another spoonful of soup, but before anyone could comment further on his gloomy prediction, a messenger boy dashed up to Jols and began bugging him for his help with something, practically dancing around in his excitement and seeming nervousness.
Tristan merely scooped soup and kept his thoughts to himself, but from the boy's attitude and request, it looked like Barbattus was angry- and still confined to quarters. Poor bastard- but he'd get off lightly, Tristan was willing to bet. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 20 2010, 01:52 PM Post #175 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Tue Aug 26, 2008 9:43 am Ione
Ione only looked back at Linnesse from under the hood of her cloak, and was glad that the shadow from the hood had hidden the tears that were beginning to flow again. Her stomach hurt with hunger, and wanted so badly to go to the tavern, but she did not feel like company. Ione turned her head back around and made her way down the corridor, and out into the damp cold night. She raised her head, and looked up into the sky hoping to see the moon, but there was none....only a light through the clouds that told her it was there. Where had all of her happier moments faded to? Where had they gone? Was it because she realized that Javier maybe would not return, or was it that she had betrayed him with Mirtha, a drunk who could care less about her? How could she have done such a thing? All she could do now was dream that someday, a man would love her forever, for who she was, and not take advantage of her again. The future seemed so clouded now, and the only thing that would bring her joy was her unborn child. Sure, there were a lot of handsome Romans and knights and civilians at the fort, but would any othf them even consider... Oh stop it Ione! She corrected herself. Ione realized that she had found Javier without looking so hard, so perhaps it'd work again. Her slow sad steps led her to the tavern where it was pretty busy. Shyly, Ione opened the door tot he tavern and walked inside letting the door close behind her. From under her hood, she scanned a place to sit, and found on in the corner of the room. She had wanted to be alone, but perhaps company would do her good as well. Quietly, she ordered a bowl of soup and some bread with honey, then left her dark eyes wonder about watching others talk amongst themselves. About the time her food arrived, she spotted a young man who looked about as though seeking for some one to help him. Tossing back her hood to let her long auburn hair cascade over her shoulders, Ione watched and wondered for whom the young man was on an errand for. She had worked as a cook in the tavern for a spell, but no longer. Ione watched him a bit longer as she took a bite of her soup. She would help him if needed. Her dark eyes scanned the room again and fell on a group that contained Tristan, Bors, Jols, and Neeve. Well if she was looking for conversation, that seemed to be the table. Cautiously, she got up from where she sat taking her soup and her bread with her, and approached the group just as two other handsome men (Titrus and Quintus) entered the tavern as well, and as she passed them, gave them a sweet smile, or what she could muster, and continued on her way to the others. Stopping a few inches from the group, Ione asked, "Good evening, everyone. Is it okay if I sit here with you?" She did not feel comfortable fearing that others would notice she was upset, and perhaps they enjoyed far more happier company.... |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 21 2010, 09:46 PM Post #176 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Tue Aug 26, 2008 12:52 pm Arthur The Commander watched his Optio intently - the gold flakes in his green eyes particularly prominent and clear despite Arthur’s weariness that should have dulled his brilliant gaze. Scipio appeared to be gathering his thoughts before answering…again, admirable and a clear sign that this Roman was not a foolish man who spoke in haste. And Arthur welcomed the fact that Amadeus was willing to look him in the eye, a sign of confidence and ‘honesty’ in Arthur’s opinion. And Arthur was typically quite good at reading people. However, ‘Too trusting’ as Lancelot would say.
… I had them eliminated… That one comment brought a hint of scorn for Scipio’s choices into Arthur’s liquid green eyes. It was not Arthur’s way to take lives so callously. But in Amadeus’ defense, Arthur had placed the Optio in command of the mission and the other man had to make his own decisions out there. Arthur’s brows slowly crept upwards towards his hairline while continuing to listen to Scipio’s report. The Optio appeared to become more animated and passionate in his words as he continued. Why had Malcus challenged a superior officer in front of others? Especially Merlin?
Barbattus had years of experience, serving Rome longer than Arthur himself and proven time and time again to be steadfast and loyal to his rank. Yet, Arthur knew his friend had a temper…thus all that the Commander could surmise is that something or someone had sparked Malcus’ anger….but why had the Captain chosen to go against protocol right in front of the enemy during a peace treaty mission? Troubled by this news, Arthur reached up to rub a thick finger over his lips and released a tired sigh through his nose. He would speak to Malcus and get to the bottom of it before giving satisfaction to Amadeus on the matter. Arthur was bound by the laws of the Roman army; bound by duty to uphold order among the men…which included his officers. And somehow Arthur began to feel as if he had failed both Malcus and Lancelot for them both to act out against Amadeus as they had recently.
Arthur held Amadeus’ gaze for a long moment until he had been assured of the other man’s sincerity, and in Arthur’s green eyes a hint of sorrow shown mixed with discontent, not anger though – but clear and utter disappointment at the failed mission. Then the Commander turned away from his Optio – not out of any disrespect but out of a need to ‘think’ for a moment. He stepped around the two chairs in front of the fireplace and came to stand at the hearth. Arthur reached out and pressed the palm of his hand against the mantle and stared down into the orange and yellow flames. His wounded side ached and his head throbbed and God help him how was he to fix this? Arthur knew one thing for sure though….he would ride to Merlin himself. He knew the old Woad leader would receive him if nothing else but to chastise Arthur for sending incompetent men in his stead. And perhaps he had. His free hand had come to rest on his hip as Arthur continued to brood over Scipio’s disappointing report for a short time longer. “I have known Merlin for many years….nothing short of seeking an audience with him myself will do to salvage this…if it is not yet too late,” Arthur stated calmly, yet he made a disgruntled sound and twisted his mouth without turning to meet Amadeus’ grey eyes. He had no need to as surely his Roman second in command understood the gravity of the situation with a failed attempt at peace and the risk of further attacks on a weakened fortress. Repairs on the main structures had only just begun from the last Woad attack…let alone the severely under stocked stores. No, Arthur would not send Scipio out again on his own….the Commander knew he had to do this himself. The flames crackled in the fireplace and Arthur attempted to take in their warmth and fiery fortitude….he would need all his wits about him and certainly his strength. And what if I do not return? Who can I entrust with Darya’s safety in my absence? And how can I risk leaving my own child fatherless? Arthur slowly turned his head to look at Amadeus over his shoulder. The disappointment was still quite evident in his eyes….but Arthur truly harbored no anger at the Optio. The man had surely attempted his best today….it had been Arthur’s fault – Arthur’s weaknesses – that had doomed the mission of peace. “There is wine on the table,” Arthur began with a small gesture towards the flask and goblets on a tray in the center of the table. “Please refresh yourself and sit,” Arthur continued evenly; one hand still pressed against the rough mantle while the other returned to carefully cover his wound. “I will send for Captain Barbattus and hear the reasons for his actions,” Arthur stated in a tone that brooked no argument. While he had no doubt that Scipio had grounds for complaint against Malcus…Arthur knew there always to be two sides to any ‘issue’ and he would hear his Captain’s explanation before handing down his judgment or any required punishment. Derfel The knight had seen a few of the others he knew enter the tavern and take up residence of a nearby table. Derfel was actually quite glad to see Bors out and about in particular – considering the burly knight had suffered a pretty nasty leg injury on the mission. Tristan and Jols were with Bors (as was Neeve) so that could only mean that there was no immediate dangers about the fortress to be worrying about tonight.
Derfel smiled back at his Roman friend truly not offended by Lucius’ refusal of his offer. But when the man suddenly stood and rather abruptly exited the tavern; all that Derfel could do was watch the Roman’s retreating form and wonder what had brought on the hasty departure. However, Derfel had imbibed enough ale on an empty stomach to not over-analyze his friend’s behavior. In fact, he could hardly manage to dig enough coin from his pocket to pay for the food when the less than charming serving woman plunked the basket down in front of him just now. Standing up proved to be a little amusing as Derfel’s head seemed to swim with the movement and he swayed on his feet. But after a brief pause to regain his faculties, the knight gathered up the large basket of food and navigated through the rather treacherous – from his ale sodden perspective – path of tables and fellow tavern patrons to reach the door. He briefly gestured a friendly wave at Bors, Jols, Tristan and Neeve but knew better than to keep Linnesse (and most pointedly Linnette) waiting any longer for the meal he carried. And just as Derfel reached to push open the door, he also caught sight of Ione at a corner table as well. He hoped the young woman was well, but again the knight kept moving lest he never would make it back to his ‘new’ quarters. Derfel managed to get down the steps and off towards the apartments where he now lived with Linnesse and her lovely sister without dropping the basket of food. Surely the gods had a hand in him reaching the door to their apartment without incident. But he silently chided himself for drinking so much ale on an empty stomach. Ah well…he’d been quite thirsty and after the day the young knight had had…well…who would begrudge him a little ale and the company of a good friend? Yet, as Derfel reached the door, he slightly grimaced expecting Linnette to snap at him for his tardiness the moment he opened said door. ….and what a sigh of relief as Derfel pushed open the door and found Linnette not on the other side of it. The large room was dark as he entered and Derfel frowned in concern…had the two sisters left? And if so, why? A brief moment of panic that something had happened to Linnesse flooded Derfel’s mind as his blue eyes attempted to adjust to the low light in the apartment. He knew he’d placed a table in front of the couch, but apparently forgot ‘exactly’ where it was…Derfel’s boot connected with the leg of the table making a loud cracking sound…which he promptly cursed at….in his native tongue no less….and then decided it best to sit the basket of food down on the table before he dropped the whole lot and spoiled their meal. “Linnesse?” Derfel called out his lover’s name while deciding to check their room before going back out and in search of the sisters elsewhere. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 21 2010, 11:43 PM Post #177 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Tue Aug 26, 2008 5:56 pm Linnesse
"Mmmmm?" Linnesse was still half asleep, her initial answer only a groan sufficient to indicate her presence. The clumsy sounds from the outer room had intruded on her mind just as she was sinking once more into deeper sleep, and the voice made it clear who was causing them. Why was Derfel banging around, so, though? Confused, Linnesse shook off enough of the fog of sleep to lever herself up off the bed again, once more taking the blanket, and trudge to the doorway between the two rooms, where she stood, blinking, rubbing her eyes, and pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders against the slight draft in the outer room. "Derfel?" she inquired confusedly, so far unenlightened as to what all the noise was about. However, once she managed to open her eyes all the way, she spotted the basket he had brought- plunked down on the table right on top of the dress that Ione had dropped off earlier. Granted, Derfel's vision must not be as used to the dark as hers was at the moment, but could he not have felt that there was something else there? Blowing out a breath of mild exasperation, Linnesse crossed just in front of Derfel and lifted the basket off the dress, setting it down next to it instead. There was food in there, after all- she could smell it, even if the lumpy shapes told her little about the contents- and she didn't want to take any small chance of getting the new dress dirty. "What is it?" she asked him, half-turning and looking up at him over her shoulder. her voice betraying a touch of annoyance. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 21 2010, 11:45 PM Post #178 |
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Author: Starbelle Date: Tue Aug 26, 2008 6:11 pm Jols After eating a bit more soup, Jols listened to Tristan's reply to his musings.
"Hmm. If he does go out there, I hope that he'll at least take some of his Knights out with him, if only to keep himself safe." Jols replied to the Scout in a concerned tone of voice. Working on his own apple, he heard a small, little voice at his knee.
"Hey, there, little one." The squire replied in greeting. "Its no bother. Sure, I definetly can help you out there." He replied with a friendly nod in the young boy's direction. Flagging down a serving girl, Jols ordered a hot meal to go and told her that there'd be an extra coin for her as well if she made sure that it was still hot when he got it. After placing his order, the squire heard another voice by his head. Looking up, he saw Ione standing there.
"Evening, Ione." He replied with a polite bow of his head in her direction. "Sure, its quite alright." Jols said as he scooted over closer in Tristan's direction to give her space enough to let her sit down. Seeing the serving girl return with his to go order, Jols reached into his pouch and pulled out the extra coin for her as he took it from her. "Here you go, little guy, one very hot meal for Captain Barbattus. Carry it carefully and be sure that you hold it level so as not to spill it. No running with it now, ok." The squire instructed the errand boy after handing it over to him. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 21 2010, 11:46 PM Post #179 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Tue Aug 26, 2008 6:32 pm Titrus
The two men began to make their way to the tavern. "From what I can gather," Titrus replied, "he's been ordered to stay there until he's retrieved by either the commander or the optio. That's about all I can get out of anybody."
Titrus nodded and held the tavern door open for Quintus and both men entered. The familiar smells of food, sweat and stale ale filled the air of the room. Titrus removed his heavy cloak and pointed to a table next to a group of people - Jols, Bors, Tristan, the healer Titrus had seen in Arthur's quarters earlier. Titrus didn't see Petri who was standing slightly behind Jols. A very pretty woman crossed in front of the lieutenant and smiled. He smiled back at her and swung his legs over a chair and sat down. "I'll buy your first ale," he yelled at Quintus over the raucus crowd. The lieutenant nodded his head at the others in greeting, "Evening, good people," he said and sat back to relax. Reuben Rueben walked into the tavern and scanned the crowd, dreading what he had been commanded to do by his squad commander. Maybe he wouldn't find who he was looking for. Damn. There he was. Shit. The guard walked slowly over to the table of people, the knot in his throat getting bigger as he got closer. Rueben approached the table and nodded, then looked at Tristan who was just scooping another spoonful of soup into his mouth. Rueben squatted next to the scout and whispered, so only Tristan could hear. The guard was nervous, but his squad commander had ordered him. "Um. Tristan," he said softly. "I'm sorry to bother you. Um. But my squad leader sent me. The prisoner. The woad. Um. She's been screaming for hours. She won't shut up. She's ... um ..." Rueben shifted his weight and his knees cracked "...she's screaming saying she wants to talk to you..." The guard's eyes widened. He quickly added "...um...Captain Barbattus can't be disturbed and nobody knows what to do with her...um...can you come and talk to her?" Reuben looked at Tristan and waited, not knowing what would happen next. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 21 2010, 11:48 PM Post #180 |
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Author: Lancelot Date: Tue Aug 26, 2008 6:40 pm Lancelot Lancelot was rather grateful to be inside a warm room at last. He wondered briefly whose quarters they actually were, but pushed that out of his mind. It did not matter. The blond stirred the fire and Lancelot sighed happily to be out of the damp and away from the infirmary and the drama of the day. His eye throbbed suddenly, and he moved to the wash basin that Catherine was standing next to. She trailed her fingers lazily in the water, and touched his face.
He flashed a grin at her; the light feel of her fingertips on his cheek was intoxicating, and he leaned closer, if only to take in her scent. Find yourself another whore for the night. Lancelot's eyes snapped open, and he licked his dry lips. Catherine was within kissing distance; her bright and clean face upturned toward his. He suddenly could feel every ounce of grime on his body. She wouldn't like that. Not one such as this. He gently took her hand in his and kissed the underside of it, hovering his full mouth over the pulse point, inhaling, trying to force images of Arthur - and that night - away. His green eyes, so trusting, had been almost black with hurt and anger. "Let me clean up. Besides - why rush? The pleasures of the evening can be worth waiting for," he said, his tone low and soft. He swallowed over the annoyance in his throat, and stepped back from the woman, letting go of her hand. He smiled at her, and, never dropping his eyes (or, good eye) from her face, unbuckled the harness that held his swords and removed them, hanging them in their sheath carefully over the edge of a large chair. He pulled his old tunic over his head - now dirty, thanks to the scuffle with Galahad - and flung it carelessly in the corner. Whoever's room this was could have the worn out thing. Taking off his boots next was a welcome action; he sighed happily to be out of the constraining footwear. Continuing to smile hazily at Catherine, he unlaced the front of his very loose leathers and in one motion, shucked them off. He stood in the firelight, the only thing on his body the bandage that covered the arrow wound on his arm. Lancelot had no problems being naked in front of most people. His body was too slender, he thought, but he had a feeling any whore wouldn't care. He lay his trousers over his swords, and cocked an eyebrow at her. "I see a few spare articles of clothing. I hope whomever they belong to can accept donating them to a brave knight in the service of mighty Rome." The sarcasm dripped from his voice. He moved to the corner of the room, and picked up a clean (if large) tunic from atop a dresser. Slinging it over his shoulder, he lay it with his leathers, and then turned to the basin of cool water. He splashed the water over his face and hair, hissing as the liquid burned against his multiple injuries. He was certain his torso and legs held bruises, but he was also certain they were nothing Catherine hadn't seen before. Especially being that she'd probably tumbled more than one knight before. He looked at her out of the corner of his good eye as he picked up a linen towel that had been laying next to the basin. He dunked it in the water, and began to wash the rest of him. The water ran in rivulets from his damp hair down his back, and he shivered without meaning to. He cleaned as best he could, all the while staring at this light and airy butterfly of a girl that had dragged him from the mucky cold into her cocoon. Or perhaps her web, but Lancelot didn't care. Arthur could wait. Arthur would only have sore words for him, would only want to know where the shiner had come from, would only berate him for his 'insubbordination' with Scipio earlier. He wouldn't remember Lancelot caring for him on the way back to Badon, wouldn't remember the kind if small words spoken between them, wouldn't recall the smile they'd shared. A true smile. Lancelot's angular face narrowed into a helpless frown without realizing it. Picking up the other towel that lay at the edge of the basin, he dried off as best he could, and then wrapped the material loosely around his waist. He took the few steps that led to the fire and positioned himself in front of it, his backside warming up as his skin steamed in the damp. "I thank you for your patience, my lady. I feel worlds better." He pursed his lips and regarded her thoughtfully. "You are a pretty thing," he murmured. "What brought you here?" He purposefully left the question vague - how would she answer? And how would she distract his wandering, bruised mind? He found he most definitely desired to find out...even if thoughts of another, intimate night plagued him with a ferocity he hated. |
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