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| August 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Apr 12 2010, 09:09 PM (2,831 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | Apr 21 2010, 11:49 PM Post #181 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Tue Aug 26, 2008 8:15 pm Brendyn So far all had been quiet along the wall and as far as Brendyn could see. He stood facing out toward that vast darkness with his spear at his side in an easy grip, and his ex Commander's sword in the sheath at his side. Behind him, Brendyn could make out different voices and people walking here and there he assumed...probably toward the tavern which he assumed most soldiers and civilians went after work. The young soldier scanned the darkness wishing at least for the help of a bright clear moon while his stomach rumbled. Brendyn had had something to eat, but perhaps not enough as he had only had stew and bread with tea. He made it a habit never to drink before night duty or any other duty.... It would almost be time to give the report to the officer in charge, and it would be the same as it had been since he began his shift, but then he considered it good news if they were not under attack. He loved guard duty whether it was in the dungeons or the wall...or even going to battle. To himself, he thought it'd be a good time to pray for Arthur and the men he had become friends with since meeting them....wisdom and discernment were always good things to pray for, or so the monk, Benedict, had told him at Aesica. So Brendyn stood, his one hand clasping his cloak at the waist to keep out the damp and cold while the other held his spear.... "Report Soldier," The officer in Charge demanded. "Still nothing, sir. All is quiet," Brendyn replied. "Good. Good carry one," The officer said as he took a cautious look over the side of the wall, turned and walked back to his post. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 21 2010, 11:50 PM Post #182 |
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Author: sabor ice Date: Wed Aug 27, 2008 2:48 am Milan
Milan realized the moment the words left his mouth how wrong it had all sounded, not the awkward droll of his monotone nor the brutal skewing of all vowels and consonants, but the meaning of the words themselves. The meaning had sounded all wrong. There was a knotting in his stomach as he hesitantly looked to Mari, knowing her reaction would be heartbreaking at the misunderstanding. And, it was horrible. She looked like that same porcelain doll in the firelight, only more fragile. He had feared his touch might somehow cause her to break, but now he realized his words had done the irreparable damage. At any moment he was certain she'd shatter into dust and ash under the dim moonlight. A star brighter than any in the Heavens would be lost to the nothingness of space, and all because of his verbal stupidity. He would murder her yet with his words. "No..." he murmured when she started to say her sorry, reaching out to her but deft fingers quickly curled back into his palm. Milan hung his head as he rounded the side of the bed and sat on the edge, face in his hands, shoulders hunched sorrowfully. Why did everything he tried to say always come out wrong? He had so much on his troubled mind, years of fear and torment and neglect. It was bottled up so tightly that it suffocated him inside out. And, now these new feelings he had for Mari, they laced the poison in sweet remedy, easing the pain. Why couldn't he just let it all out into the open? If anyone needn't love someone, it was Mari. She loved him when she didn't have to. How could he let her know how much better he was now because of the hope she had given and the love she had shown him? "Every..tthing...in...side..." he whispered, his voice desperate for her understanding. He raised apologetic blue eyes to meet hers, and placed a palm against his chest for effect of his words. "...doesn' come out...rrright..." He pressed both hands to his thighs and stood from the bed, his shuffled footsteps nervous as he moved closer to her. Milan touched a gentle hand to her arm, his free hand mirroring the action on her other one as he coaxed her to face him. His face hovered a breath away from hers, causing her to have to tilt back her head just to see him eye-to-eye. The glistening of her brown eyes caused him to instinctively softly brush his thumbs across to wipe away the threatening tears, his hands then catching her sweet face between them. "I-I jus' wanna...luv you...Mari..." Milan told her quietly, focusing on her lips a moment, then he raised his gaze. The middle of his forehead puckered out thoughtfully. "Is that...ok?" Would that be enough for her? It was all he had to give. Would his love be enough? |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 21 2010, 11:51 PM Post #183 |
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Author: Darya Date: Wed Aug 27, 2008 9:26 am Neeve
Neeve had fallen into her usual quiet and observing behaviour without even noticing it. Well, it was part of her personality…despite the fact that she had changed since she had returned to Badon Hill. But the 'listen and learn'-tactic came natural to her…still…and the exchange between Tristan and Jols was highly interesting. What she was hearing definitely explained the Optio’s rather reserved expression in Arthur’s room earlier. After all, the younger Roman would have to report an apparently failed mission to the Commander… Not good. Neither for him nor for Arthur, who’d certainly get even less rest due to this. Neeve growled quietly at this thought, knowing all about the Commander’s injury… When Tristan then mused that Arthur would surely ride out to speak to Merlin himself, the healer raised both eyebrows and glanced skeptically at the scout. She would definitely have a word with the Commander before he got even near his horse should he truly consider going to the Woad leader himself. There mere idea made her clench her teeth already. The Roman was not at his best…not even close to it. He shouldn’t go anywhere… And with that, the idea of a guard in front of the Commander’s room came back to her. Now would it not be convenient if this guard would not only make sure that no one disturbed Arthur but also that the man stayed in his quarters to finally get rest? A corner of the Briton’s mouth twitched slightly at this idea and she took another bite from her apple… …just to notice from the corner of her eyes that Lucius was suddenly – and obviously in a hurry – leaving the tavern…closely followed by a definitely not that sober anymore Derfel. At least the Saxon waved at the small group and Neeve gave him an acknowledging nod in return before watching him exit the building. With her attention on the Saxon, the healer did not really notice the messenger boy, who had approached Jols…and even when she shifted her gaze back to the group around the table, the raven-haired woman merely eyed the boy for a moment before hearing yet someone approaching them…
Neeve lifted her chin slightly in a greeting way as her blue eyes lingered on the weaver for a moment…but then the healer waved at a serving girl and ordered a mug of tea. It would make it easier to get some sleep later. Then the Briton saw Titrus, the Roman who had reported to Arthur about the security breach, and another officer entering the tavern. It was getting crowded. She watched the two men settling down at the table next to the one she was sitting at…and nodded at the Romans when Titrus greeted them. And then her mug of tea arrived and the healer clasped it with both hands…savouring the warmth. Well, good timing…since she was done with her apple by now. “Want some, too?”, the healer then asked Ione, who looked rather…distressed, and lifted the mug, “…as so long as the kitchen has the herbs, we should make use of them…” Neeve managed a faint wry smile even though the topic of herbs was a quite serious one. Some of the herbs in the kitchen could also be used in the infirmary…and should the healers run out of herbs, they would certainly get them from the tavern; and if she had to ask the Commander for permission. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 21 2010, 11:54 PM Post #184 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Wed Aug 27, 2008 12:14 pm Tristan and Quintus
Tristan silently scooted over in his turn as Jols shifted and Ione sat down, then continued steadily, though not hurriedly, scooping his soup into his mouth as Jols flagged down a tray and sent the boy on his way to Barbattus, and Neeve and Ione fell to a discussion of herbs. Those happenings made little difference to him, and between bites his eyes traveled around the tavern- observing Derfel and his soldier companion leaving, in separate directions and both noticeably drunk, and then Lieutenant Titrus and Centurion Quintus entering the tavern, chatting and making a beeline for the table that Derfel had just vacated. However, it was the next arrival- a nervous-looking soldier, that caught his attention more. At first he assumed the man must be looking for one of the two officers, for he was heading in their general direction- but as he came closer, it became clear that his target was not Titrus or Quintus- but apparently Tristan himself.
What? Tristan felt his cheeks heat and his eyes grow wide with uncharacteristic horror that only increased as the man continued his stumbling explanation of the problem. The Woad prisoner…screaming for him? His name? For hours?? It was enough to make Tristan feel like all the blood had drained from his body, like all his limbs had been hacked off, leaving him helpless. Any other torture the Woads could devise would have been preferable- anything! Just the thought of what the crazy woman must look and sound like was agonizing..and the officer down there wanted him to go to her?? Swallowing his last mouthful of soup hard and nearly dropping his spoon- it had slipped from his fingers while he was sitting shocked and he only managed to grab onto it again at the last moment- Tristan threw a look of utter panic across the table to Neeve. She was a woman…a healer…surely she must have some experience dealing with hysterical members of the so-called weaker sex? Tristan sure as hell didn’t!! Why the fuck didn’t they just kill the damn prisoner, anyway? It would save him the trouble of this! In full panic mode, his senses were even more acute- without any reason to, without trying, he heard clearly a snatch of the conversation between Titrus and Quintus at the next table- and noticed with an increasing sense of doom that they were commenting on what the soldier had just said to him. Soon it would be all over the whole fort! The Woad prisoner, convinced that Tristan the scout would comfort her in her extremity…oh, Hadrian’s balls, what a fucking mess.
“Thanks,” grunted the Centurion, flashing the serving girl a brief and unhandsome- but sincere- smile of his own as he pulled towards him one of the mugs that she had set down. It looked good, and smelled better…but as he was raising it to his lips to drink, his attention was caught by the situation apparently developing at the table next door. “Look,” Quintus nudged Titrus in the shoulder and pointed over at the nervous soldier- Reuben, his name was, Quintus thought- trying, incredibly, to convince Arthur’s taciturn and moody scout to go to the aid of the Woad prisoner. “They must really be desperate,” Quintus chuckled, shaking his head at the absurdity of the whole situation- while at the next table, Tristan tensed his jaw to iron, looked at no one, and hoped desperately that Neeve had some brilliant idea for dealing with this. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 21 2010, 11:55 PM Post #185 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Wed Aug 27, 2008 5:07 pm Malcus Barbattus
“Thanks Jols, for helpin’ me.” Petri said, smiling at the squire then hauling ass out off tavern, careful not to spill the hot food. The boy made his way through the commons and back to the barracks, proud of himself for having dropped nothing. It had gotten quite cold outside and the boy’s feet were freezing. “I’ve got the Captin’s food!” he yelled at the sentries who allowed him access to the officer’s side of the building. After checking the contents of his pouch (security had been increased since the last woad attack), they waved him through. Petri scurried down the dark, narrow corridor, finally arriving at Barbattus’ room. The boy pressed his ear to the door first before knocking. Barbattus laid his book down on the small table which served as his desk and rose to answer the door. He was greeted with a wide-eyed, smiling boy holding a pouch. The smell of food permeated the corridor. “Captin, I’ve come with yer food,” Petri said proudly. He was proud that he had been charged with such a responsibility of bringing an officer some grub. Malcus straightened to his full height and narrowed his eyes at the boy. “Is it all there?” he asked sternly. “You didn’t take any did you?” Petri’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open. “Er…no sir! Nothing at all!” he said, handing Malcus the pouch. The captain took the pouch and peered inside. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Then he looked at Petri, with narrowed slits. Petri stood absolutely still. Then Malcus laughed at him. Petri’s small chest caved with relief. Malcus snapped to attention and saluted the young boy. “Well done, my boy. Thank you,” “Oy, Captain!” Petri stood straight and saluted. Malcus chuckled again and gave Petri 2 coins. “Don’t go spending that on ale or women, either,” he said. “No sir!” Petri said with amazement, wide-eyed, staring at the coins in his hand. “Come see me again,” Malcus said and closed the door. The captain went back to his chair and removed the food from the pouch. He sniffed the food once more and began to eat ravenously, thinking of what he would say to Arthur. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 21 2010, 11:57 PM Post #186 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Wed Aug 27, 2008 5:19 pm Ione
Ione returned Neeve's greeting and wave while the healer ordered some tea. "Thank you," Her voice tinged with reminants of the crying she had done, and the sorrow still within her. The loss of friends was never a good thing, and she had so few. She set her soup and bread on the table next to where Jols had moved over for her, then slowly sat down with a sigh. Her dark eyes moved once again to the man (Titrus), and saw his smile.
The Roman's voice was a pleasant one, and she thought she had detected an accent though she could not be sure. Turning back to Neeve, Ione asked, "Who is that man sitting over there?" Ione whispered. She had not met a lot of the Romans at the fort as she was either working....or working. Ione blushed slightly, then moved her gaze back to the group she was with now. The man (Titrus) had a kind face with gentle eyes. Ione gave up dreaming before she began. She just was not ready to give her heart out again....though perhaps being a friend was not such a bad thing....maybe they'd meet sometime, and just talk...Oh stop wishing Ione! You know he's too busy for the likes of you... There was a boy who waited near the table as well on the other side of Jols. As she began to wonder who he was, a wench came back with some food, and Jols paid for it, then handed the food to the boy. The only folks she knew at the fort were her customers, and those at the infirmary as she made blankets for them, but she realized that she knew so few of them...
Ione had to smile slightly at the gesture as Jols had always been that way....or so she had heard. Ione eyed everyone around the table though she had no idea why. They were all of her friends, and she loved every single one of them. Perhaps it was the fact the at least two or three at the table knew of she and Javier, and the way she felt right now, Ione didn't really want to explain that he had gone back to Spain without her. She was in no mood to hear "I told you so s". Javier and she were rarely seen one without the other, and he had become an intrical part of her life: every breath, and thought they had were of each other. She left her gaze drift to the healer, and thought it might be a good idea to have a check up...though as busy as Neeve was, Ione wondered if she'd even have the time. It felt good to be in the company of friends. Especially now. As she listened to the conversation between Bors and Tristan, she frowned. She had come in the middle of it, and really did not understand what was going on, but it didn't sound really good. Something about a mission, Arthur and some bad things that had happened. The weaver loved Arthur and considered him to be like an older brother...one of the kindest and bravest of all the Romans she had met. If only all Roman's were like he. Ione kept her opinion to herself though as she knew little of matters of this sort. Though when a soldier approached the table and addressed Tristan, but Ione could not hear what was said as she was not that close to the two to hear. When Neeve's tea arrived, Ione could not help but inhale the calming aroma of the warm brew....
"I-I would love some, Neeve. Thank you..." Ione's voice trailed off a bit as the sadness still clung to her. Her stomach leaped a bit then seemed to move a bit. Odd feeling. 'It might...calm me and my..my stomach down a bit.' She did not want to come right out and say that she was pregnant, or she thought she was. With a sigh, Ione leaned over toward the healer's ear and whispered so that no one but Neeve could hear, 'I-I think...I am pregnant...' When she had said her piece, Ione looked back around the table only to see Tristan with an odd look on his face gazing over at Neeve. Her eyes flickered from the nervous soldier next to Tristan, then to the knight. Was he in trouble? |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 21 2010, 11:58 PM Post #187 |
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Author: sirgawain Date: Thu Aug 28, 2008 1:20 am Gawain Gawain breathed a sigh of relief as he strode out of the wide doors of the infirmary. It was nice to stretch his feet after having sat on that tiny wooden stool beside the very cranky Galahad for so long. It wasn’t that he minded spending time with his truest friend, or that he felt that Galahad was unjustified in his foul mood, but the fresh air was just what he needed right now. The man had to fight the urge to rub his eyes like a child, switching from the dreary, dank light of the stone walls to the bright outside light. Instead he just blinked a few times, continuing his aimless wandering through the grounds. When he came upon the courtyards, he lifted his eyes to glance around at who was sharing the space with him. Immediately he wished that he had taken a different path, or that he hadn’t lifted his eyes at all, or that he had never left the infirmary at all. Unfortunately, what his eyes had lighted upon when they lifted was the image of his best friend’s mate, Alina, being held on to by none other than the most contemptible Kolya. Had not Lancelot been griping constantly about how this man had been the source of all his grief and annoyance lately, and here he was with his paws on Alina once again. Not to mention, here she was letting him put his paws all over her. A series of very strong emotions coursed through him ranging from complete surprise, furiousness at Alina, loyalty to Galahad, and a strong, very physical need to punch Kolya in the face. However, he restrained himself on the last count, commending himself for his own self control. Instead, he stood there with what he could only imagine would be his most dauntingly dark look upon his face, glaring at Alina. He would make sure she knew just how unhappy he was about this. The next dilemma was, should he tell his friend about this revolting development? Was there really any point at all in compounding an already tense situation? He could already feel the conflict building inside of himself and blamed that on Alina as well, feeling his expression darken further if that was even possible. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 21 2010, 11:59 PM Post #188 |
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Author: Eledhwen Date: Thu Aug 28, 2008 4:07 am Bors Bors dived upon the food as soon as it arrived, barely taking a moment to acknowledge the apple that Neeve passed him. With a slight sideways grin at the dark haired girl he tucked in, tearing chunks of bread and gulping down soup which burned his mouth. He was ravenous, even though Vanora had just fed him, and he didn't waste time standing on ceremony where food was concerned. When their small group was joined by Jols he barely glanced up, nodding at the man shortly before frowning over his soup and meat once more. The usual dull roar and general confusion reined over the tavern as he ate, and Bors didn't let it disturb him. Not even when more bloody Romans approached did he even bother to look up, merely growling quietly to himself and studiously ignoring them. Only two things were more important than food, and Romans weren't either of them. Only when Ione joined them did he pause, always happy to cast his eyes in the direction of a pretty wench. He sucked at the meat between his teeth as she spoke quietly to Neeve, a small frown crossing his rugged features as he took in the worried look about her, and the way she held herself. Not the most observant of people, Bors had been with enough women to know when one was troubled, and generally he kept as far away from them as he could when they were. Belching loudly, he picked up another apple, his appetite satiated for now, and leaned back against a wooden pillar to take a contemplative bite. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 22 2010, 12:00 AM Post #189 |
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Author: Darya Date: Thu Aug 28, 2008 9:52 am Neeve
“Hm?”, the raven-haired woman uttered as it took her a moment to find out who Ione was talking about…but then the healer’s crystal-blue eyes found Titrus. A corner of her mouth twitched slightly and she glanced sideways at Ione. “That is Titrus…”, she said, “…I cannot say that I know him well but he’s one of the reliable Romans around…” With that, the healer cocked her head a little, briefly recalling the man’s report to Arthur earlier this day… However, there was quite a lot of talking going on around her now and Neeve instinctively tried to catch as much from each conversation as possible. Something that kept her pretty busy while she was waiting for her tea to arrive… However, the Briton’s gaze suddenly locked with Tristan’s again, who had been addressed by a nervous Roman soldier just a moment ago…
There was some panic in the usually calm and cool scout’s eyes…even while the soldier was still speaking. Neeve arched an eyebrow and Tristan, silently asking what on earth the other man was talking about. A prisoner? Screaming Tristan’s name and acting totally crazy? And what had Barbattus to do with all that? “Something wrong?”, she then asked the scout quietly, always willing to help – or try to – the knights, who certainly were closest to what she considered friends. And even though Percival – the man who had reminded her so much of her youngest brother – was no more, Neeve still felt a bit more connected to Tristan than to the other knights. Except for Lancelot perhaps, but that had other reasons. It was the quiet observant nature that made her like the scout a lot…as it was her nature as well. With her gaze still on the knight, Ione’s voice suddenly reached the Briton’s ear again...and pretty much at the same time, Neeve’s tea was served… Good. Immediately, the healer clasped the mug with both hands and let it warm her hands…
The raven-haired woman nodded slightly at the first words without looking at the weaver and almost absentmindedly motioned for the serving girl to bring another mug of tea. The wench nodded and hurried of to take care of the order. But Neeve’s attention was mostly still on Tristan… …until Ione continued to speak…very quietly… It took the healer a rather long moment until the other woman’s words registered. “You think?”, she then replied while her head whipped around and therewith shifted her piercing blue eyes to the weaver. Pregnant? Another pregnant one? That would be the third pregnancy Neeve knew of now…and that in winter! A winter with only little food and the like since the Woad attacks had caused quite some damage to the storage barns. The healer briefly eyed Ione up and down…well, if she indeed was pregnant then it was not really showing just yet – or the weaver was wearing really wide clothes to hide it. The Briton puffed out a breath and lifted her mug to her lips, sipping some of the tea as she did so. What a nice little predicament she was in now… Neeve was a healer and therewith should further question Ione about her thoughts and perhaps try to confirm or negate them by discussing some symptoms. But the Briton sensed and saw in Tristan’s eyes that the scout might do well with some support as well. Whoever this crazy prisoner was, the Sarmatian apparently was somewhat lost… |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 22 2010, 12:02 AM Post #190 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Thu Aug 28, 2008 12:15 pm Derfel Derfel heard his name and smiled as he recognized the sound of Linnesse’s gentle voice coming from the smaller room. His grin then widened at seeing his beloved appear wrapped in a blanket as she emerged from the bedroom and approached; the long flaxen strands of her hair seeming to glow even in the dimness of the room. Derfel spread his arms in anticipation of what he imagined in his drunken mind as a zealous welcome by his lover. But instead of a sweet embrace, Linnesse stepped around the knight and went straight for the basket of food instead. He frowned in confusion and attempted to shrug off his embarrassment at assuming incorrectly that she’d be happy to see him by raking a hand through his hair and then ‘casually’ removing his overcoat. Although the garment proved a bit difficult to get off his suddenly long and gangly arms….which in no way had anything to do with the amount of ale he just happened to consume in the tavern.
“What is what, luv?” Derfel answered sweetly once he’d finally got his overcoat off and slung over his shoulder for now. “Oh…the food? Bread, cheese and…I think a beef brisket?” Derfel explained the contents of the basket best he could since he hadn’t inspected the meal yet himself. Hopefully the serving woman had given him what he’d paid for. “Sorry I am a bit late with it, luv. But had a few mugs of ale,” Derfel explained his tardiness with a sheepish grin and then stepped up close behind Linnesse to place an affectionate kiss on the side of her head. He slid an arm around her waist and peered over her shoulder at the basket. He deeply inhaled the heady mixture of fresh food and the sweet scent of his lover’s hair….and grinned in contentment. “Your sister sleepin’? Or do I have you and this fine meal all to meself?” Derfel teased as he greedily pulled Linnesse tighter back against his chest. And while awaiting Linnesse’s answer to the question, Derfel’s eyes ticked in the general direction of where they had placed Linnette’s belongings behind a makeshift screen….and prayed to Bel he could get through this evening without offending the other woman he now shared living quarters with. No doubt Derfel’s large consumption of ale would help in their relations tonight. It had certainly allowed the knight to let go of heavier thoughts for a bit. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 22 2010, 12:04 AM Post #191 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Thu Aug 28, 2008 5:49 pm Tristan
Tristan nodded in response, a tiny, stiff nod to accompany the fear behind his eyes. He was trying desperately both to convey the gravity of his debacle to Neeve, without drawing too many people’s attention to it, though that was probably a lost cause- they had all heard what the soldier said, had they not? Crazy prisoner, screaming for Tristan and wouldn’t shut up…for a second, Tristan thought that maybe Neeve would save him from this damn situation, but from beside the healer, Ione whispered something that Tristan couldn't make out but which was apparently rather surprising, and now all Neeve's attention was on her.
Whatever topic they were discussing seemed urgent...so that might be that as far as Neeve’s help with this went. He, Tristan, was now apparently stranded on his own. Involuntarily he shifted his look of desperate appeal to Bors, now done with most of his food and leaning back against a pillar, but what would the other knight do? Bors wouldn’t be any more willing or able to calm a hysterical prisoner than the scout himself was. Feeling extremely put-upon, Tristan shifted his attention back to the soldier who had carried the message. “I…” He shook his head, denying all ability to help with this. What the hell did the squad commander think he would do, anyway? Riding in on a white horse and saving damsels in distress was Arthur’s sphere, and besides, she was a damn Woad! “I wouldn’t know what to do,” he managed to mumble, his gaze sliding to the side of the man, anything not to make eye contact. Linnesse
That hadn’t been quite what she was asking…once she got the basket situated somewhere where hopefully it wouldn’t either muss the dress or upset the candlestick, she pulled back the napkin covering the top of it, her hand contacting what was unmistakably a loaf of bread. So far so good…then Derfel stepped closer in behind her and pulled her into him, kissing the side of her head and inhaling deeply. Linnesse sighed along with him and leaned her head back contentedly- but couldn’t rid herself of the feeling that he still wasn’t acting quite himself. Her deep breath brought the realization of why to her nostrils, though- at the same time as he explained it.
Ah, ale. That explained it. A few mugs indeed. Linnesse reached for the basket again and with it on one arm, looped her other one around Derfel’s waist, the blanket now only just balancing on her shoulders- but perhaps moving this to their bedroom was the best thing to do. Linnesse started to guide Derfel in the direction of the door, explaining as she walked. “She went to the infirmary to see Dagonet. I was taking a nap until…” Linnesse broke off, not wanting to sound accusatory about the noise. A soft chuckle bubbled up from her lips, and she shook her head ruefully. “You must have enjoyed that ale,” she commented laughingly- but with the next step she took, the blanket started to slide from her shoulders, and she shivered with the sudden increased cold. She dropped Derfel’s hand and reached back for one corner of the blanket, but couldn’t reach the other one and hang onto the basket at the same time. “Um…could you…” she twisted around, trying to nod towards the corner that was slipping off- when in her distracted state the next step took her right into the doorframe between the outer and inner rooms. “OW!” she exclaimed suddenly, as her toes banged into the hard wood, and the basket, which she had involuntarily dropped, crashed to the ground. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 22 2010, 12:05 AM Post #192 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Thu Aug 28, 2008 9:33 pm Adian He sat on a stone wall studying one of the ruined buildings, making mental notes of all that needed to be done to it. It was a wreck like most of the other buildings after the last attack. Well, priority, I suppose... The young carpenter mused to himself. The storage bins still need repairing, and now the infirmary's slight damage, as well as some of the shops and... His thoughts stopped as they took him back to the last time he had been hunting. He had been ill with a slight fever, and had set traps. There was still a food shortage, and he had fallen back on keeping the tavern stocked with meat which was his own secret which he was sure that no one else would ever guess. The young man could not help but recall how much trouble he had gotten into for trying to do good...for going out and catching food so that people could eat... He huddled under the cloak casting a slight glance over at the stables where his horse waited, then looked from where he sat trying to figure out which other gate to use as the normal on was repaired and guarded...his eyes moved over to the next gate then shook his head: he did not want to be detected. The woman in his quarters, he hoped, would understand, as food for these people was still a priority. But where was there another servant's gate he could pass through? How would he get the meat for the next few days. Surely the tavern was running low on food, or.... A ride to the nearest fort? He raised an eyebrow and looked up into the dark of the night as if looking or answers... |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 22 2010, 12:05 AM Post #193 |
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Author: Kay Date: Fri Aug 29, 2008 2:31 am Guinevere
Guinevere looked up to see her father standing before her. She had been deep in thought and for a moment wondered to whom he referred, then she realised he was talking about Mona. The princess was silent for a moment, thinking back to the days she had spent with Mona and the others in the forest. "No, Father" she answered after a pause. "Mona's behaviour seemed perfectly normal right up the moment that she suddenly lunged at me" |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 22 2010, 12:07 AM Post #194 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Fri Aug 29, 2008 7:40 am Merlin
"Hmmm." Merlin paused a moment, thinking about that, and dropped his gaze to the ground where dead leaves crunched under his feet and those of his fellow warriors. They were winding their way deeper into the forest by torchlight, to where the Romans would never find them- where they had never even gone, so great were the dangers to their kind. This, the deep forest, was where the Gods lived, and they were jealous guardians. "Do you think she could be faking?" Merlin asked after that pause, giving voice now to the full extent of his suspicions. Mona's descent into madness seemed awfully convenient...if she had been planning to murder Guinevere all along, and her initial attack had failed, could she then have decided to blame the whole thing on insanity to save her own skin? Cowardly! And where did her revelations about Neeria fit into this? Could any of what she said be trusted- and did it make a difference, anyway? "It seems like convenient timing," Merlin grumbled to Guinevere, giving a sour look up the column to Mona, lolling on her litter aimlessly as others carried her. If he found out that she had been taking advantage of his warriors' strength so, when she was really a murderer who ought to die...well, she would die indeed, and not without a great deal of suffering. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 22 2010, 12:08 AM Post #195 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Fri Aug 29, 2008 10:00 am Reuben The guard began to sweat. Not from the heat of the drunken, smelly bodies in the crowded tavern, but from the way Tristan reacted to his request. Reuben knew this had been a bad idea but the damned woad wouldn't shut up! They didn't have any other choice but to ask Tristan to come or to beat the bitch into submission. The latter wouldn't please Commander Castus, they summized, so the squad leader had sent Reuben to find the scout.
Reuben pulled at the armor around his neck and flexed his jaw. "I don't know either, sir, but maybe you could just tell her to shut the fuck up....?" the guard said genuinely. "We don't want to hurt her, we just want for her to be quiet....um....maybe take her some food?" Reuben was completely out of his depths and by the look of Tristan, the scout was just as confused. Reuben stood to his full height. "Please sir. Please come with me." |
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