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| August 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Apr 12 2010, 09:09 PM (2,842 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | Apr 12 2010, 09:32 PM Post #16 |
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Author: TwistOfShadows Date: Sun Aug 03, 2008 10:04 am Eyla Lancelot was a charmer, but he was more fun when moody. Eyla watched his eyes narrow, into dark and sparkling slits, and her smirk remained playful, teasing. Her brown eyes glittered up at him, and she blinked lazily. Her eyelashes were thick, elegantly placed to appear sultry, and Eyla knew it. She was Heaven. She knew men wanted her, she knew they’d pay well for her talents, so why be ashamed? Why be modest? There was little modesty in her full and rounded bosom, pressed suggestively against her bodice. She was built for pleasure. Her golden skin was flawless, and her face was striking. The harlot was expensive, and renound for bedding rich lovers. But she always had time for the First Knight, because he was wonderful. His body moulded perfectly to hers, his taste was potent and full of promise, and he was strong enough to satisfy all her needs. Indeed, but things were different now. He was using her for information, and she should have been offended. Thousands of women would have…but Eyla? She had been used for worst things in the past, and she was selfish. She wanted to bed Lancelot, and she would. It was simple. She knew how to play him, she knew how to inspire the masculinity that made her whimper and breathe his name…
Oh, there was a change in him. Eyla could not understand it, but she cared not. He was smiling, and she felt her thighs warm beneath her skirts. The harlot smiled up at him, feigning innocence, and gods, she appeared virginal. She had the beauty of a virgin, the potential for self-preservation, but there was something about her smile. Her lips lilted mischievously, and a naughty smile continually lingered upon her mouth. Eyla thought upon Darya, the beautiful dark Sarmatian. The harlot had shared her bed too. What a delectable and amusing situation! Sarmatian women were not patient, nor particularly cheerful, but they were stubborn in matters of the flesh. Eyla remembered Darya parting her thighs. It was only for a second, but it was still submission… As Eyla kissed his jaw, she felt his hand upon her back. It was strong, it was an overwhelming reminder of the pleasure his fingers could invoke. Eyla felt his lips touch her cheek, and her smile widened. She closed her eyes for a second, and breathed him in. Musky, dusty, and gods, but he smelt strong and Eyla wanted him between her thighs. She leant into him, and the tops of her breasts rubbed against his tunic. His rough tunic. It grazed over her silken skin like heaven, and the harlot felt her breasts tighten in response. Gods, but she wanted him…
Eyla parted her lips to speak. Oh there was no guarantee he’d get what he wanted, but Eyla didn’t care for bargaining. She’d give him something. She could push Lancelot into sweet surrender, she knew that, and maybe loosen her lips for a little gossip, a few lies…where was the harm? Honesty was boring. It was for Christians, not whores…
Eyla’s eyes opened, sharply. Lancelot stepped away from her and suddenly she was receiving a verbal chastisement. The harlot turned slowly to the Nun, and feigned boredom. She glanced, uninterested, at the ugly crone, and then lifted a single finger to her lips. She sucked it lightly, and flicked her hair back over her shoulders. The brown curls teased down her spine, and she lifted her brows in amusement. “Lavinia, you are looking as beautiful as ever. I should be careful…such competition could force me back into the Church…” Eyla spoke slowly, but her voice was bored and she didn’t care for a response. She would get her herbs, or she would come another day. “Perhaps I should return to the Church? I’ve always been brilliant on my knees…” Eyla laughed. Her uninterested expression broke into a broad smile, and she shook her head. Gods, but she loved being cheeky. It suited her. Eyla looked back to Lancelot, and winked one eye at him. She was still wanting, and her expression was clearly intense, suggestive. “Oh do not appear so sulky! My lips could kiss you better much quickly than that disgusting poultice will…” The harlot laughed, and glanced sideways at Lavinia. She did not care for medicine, not truly. Eyla believed that men shouldn’t get into trouble. These stinking and gross remedies were a punishment surely…? |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 12 2010, 09:33 PM Post #17 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Sun Aug 03, 2008 12:41 pm Titrus Titrus shifted his weight from foot to foot running the speech over in his mind, thinking how would break the news to Arthur. Just as he was convinced that perhaps the commander was sleeping, thereby delaying Titrus' responsibility as officer-on-duty, he heard the unmistakable command of Lord Castus.
Damn! Titrus cursed. Arthur was awake. Titrus reached out and grabbed the handle of the huge door and pulled. The big door moved easily and Titrus slowly walked inside. It was the first time he'd been in the commander's quarters. He resisted the temptation to look around. That didn't seem quite appropriate. Instead, upon entering, Titrus did a quick scan of the fair-sized room which was dimly lit with a fire burning in the fireplace, a large bed and a few sparse furnishings. The bed looked slightly disheveled as though the commander had been resting or....perhaps something else. Arthur stood next to a small table next to the bed and a young woman stood next to him whom Titrus didn't recognize immediately. Obviously, the lieutenant had interupted something. He felt the heat rise on his face and the tips of his ears. The commander was barefoot yet fully dressed in black trousers and a black tunic. The young woman stood with her head lowered, staring at the floor. Her posture indicated to Titrus that perhaps she was deep in thought about something. Hesitantly, the lieutenant strode into the room, holding his hat under his arm. He stopped a few feet away from Arthur and saluted, striking his chest plate and focusing his gaze on the bridge of Arthur's nose, not making direct contact with his superior officer. "Commander Castus, please forgive the intrusion, sir," Titrus said flicking a quick glance and the dark-haired beauty and then back to Arthur. "Captain Barbattus has not yet returned from the mission, therefore I, Titrus, his second, must inform you of some rather urgent news, sir." Titrus silently ran through his speech once more while he waited for Arthur's response. Facts. Just the facts. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 12 2010, 09:35 PM Post #18 |
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Author: Starbelle Date: Sun Aug 03, 2008 1:08 pm Tatiana Feeling the warmth that was Adian stop what he was doing then after a final kiss, she felt him move a few strands of her coppery hair off of her shoulders, Tati slowly opened her eyes and saw him standing a few feet away from her, with his arms wrapped around himself. As he sadly glanced up at the ceiling of the room.
"Adian..its ok. You did nothing wrong. There's nothing to apologize for, nothing wrong with looking for comfort in someone else, especially if you're missing your beloved." Tatiana replied to him as she stayed where she was, eventhough she wanted to go over to him and hug him.
"I want to marry you too, Adian." She replied honestly, coming out from the spell that she'd been under with his bewitching kisses. "Of course, do what you feel is right for Thorne. Did you want me to help you with anything in that regard? " She asked him polietly then another thought entered her mind. "When would a good time for me to move in here be? I'm quite small and don't take up very much space, but at least it'll help us to get to know the other one better..." She saw an honest light enter his heather gray eyes before it was dimmed by sadness again. Tatiana could feel her own heart breaking in response to his sadness and what he said to her. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 12 2010, 09:36 PM Post #19 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Sun Aug 03, 2008 4:08 pm Arthur Arthur’s hand instinctively went to cover over his wound, but he forced it to drop back down to his side. As a Roman officer, he knew that he must outwardly show only strength and calm despite his inner turmoil and weakened physical condition. He was also aware of Darya’s movements as the Sarmatian came to stand close behind him and Arthur’s gut twisted with his own guilt over having to allow an interruption in their important conversation….a child…God help me.…but peace with Merlin must take precedence over Arthur’s personal life; ensuring the safety of the outpost outweighed the longing for intimacy and reassurances with his lover. Duty would always reign over Arthur’s private life and thus how could he possibly deal with raising a family? The Roman bit at the insides of his mouth to steady his troubled thoughts as the door swung open…..admitting one of Arthur’s subordinate officers instead of the anticipated Optio. The man promptly saluted to which the Commander responded with a touch of his fist to his chest in the traditional Roman army salutation.
Arthur stood tall, crossed his hands behind his back and raised his chin while listening to Titrus address him. Urgent news? The Commander slightly angled his head to the side and pursed his lips before speaking; his thick brows drawn together in concern at the possible premise of Titrus’ report. “What is it, Titrus? And no need for apologies…go on,” Arthur said evenly encouraging the man to speak freely even though his intense emerald eyes were focused pointedly on the Roman before him. The Commander knew little about Titrus personally, but Malcus had always spoken well of this one and thus Arthur would trust in whatever it was Titrus had to inform him of. It had to be urgent for the officer to come directly to Arthur’s private chambers. The Commander’s side twinged, but he ignored it best that he could. His stomach knotted at the possibility of a failed peace treaty and a fresh assault on the fortress. What of Scipio and Barbattus? How would Arthur best protect Darya and his unborn child if they were to fall under attack again? Half of his knights were injured and his top officers were gone from the fortress. Where was Lancelot? Derfel It had been a long day. Derfel stood up straight after shifting the large table in the common room into place in front of the couch and heard his back creak as if it wanted no further part in this work. He groaned to himself and rubbed at the back of his neck. The sisters had taken full charge of the move which Derfel, and by appearances even Drake, had not minded. The two men had said little between them while moving all the belongings from both the old rooms in the knights’ quarters. And that was fine with Derfel. Once they had strung up a makeshift curtain for Linnette’s privacy, Derfel had helped situate the heavy saddlebags next to her bed….Gedeon’s things. And that had nearly brought fresh burning tears to the knight’s tired blue eyes. But not wanting to show any silly emotions in the presence of the older man, Derfel stifled his sorrow and swallowed the thick lump in his throat and went on with getting the three of them settled. Derfel had noted the fresh bandages on Linnette’s hands, but he got the impression that making any inquiries would leave him bloodied and battered…as Linnette’s temper had flaired on and off again throughout the day. But that was fine as Linnesse would see to her sister….and Derfel was patient and trying his best to be compassionate…after all, she was with child now. Drake, the other man in the room, had wisely parted once the main load of their things was taken care of. But curious, the older man’s room was right next door. However, Derfel’s own apprehensions at now sharing a two-room dwelling with his tempermental future sister-in-law had his mind occupied far too much to truly pick up on anything out of the ordinary between Drake and Linnette. He was also attempting to keep a closer eye on Linnesse…she was surely far too weak from her recent illness for this sort of labor. And finally, when things seemed to be situated enough to please both the women – thankthegods – Derfel was able (or so he thought) to convince them both to lie down for a bit of rest. Besides, Derfel desperately needed a tankard of ale after today’s activities. The blonde knight had offered to bring back some food later as a guise for his much desired trip to the tavern this evening….and made his way round the buildings to the front entrance. At least the location of this new living space was much closer to the eating place in the fortress. And Derfel had parted with Lucius around mid day with the promise to share in a more serious round of drinking tonight after the decision had been made in the new living arrangements - and Derfel was a man of his word. On entering the tavern, he easily spotted his new friend Lucius at a corner table and approached; his stiff posture easily giving away the fact that Derfel had labored long and hard today. “By the gods….I’ll never move again!” Derfel declared with a lopsided smile and a brief grasp at Lucius’ shoulder in greeting before plopping himself down in the chair opposite the other man. Lucius had been a kind face and a helpful hand when Derfel had needed one this morning…and certainly the young knight was in need of a little ‘male’ companionship about now as well….not that he didn’t already miss Linnesse’s sweet face….but her sister’s frigid disposition was enough to run Derfel out of their new house in search of some testosterone for a bit tonight. “You save any ale for me, friend? The gods know I’m thirsty enough to drink a whole barrel meself,” Derfel half laughed as he smiled wearily over at his friend. He tugged off his brown wool overcoat allowing the garment to drape over the back of his chair and then stretched out his long legs best he could underneath the table. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 12 2010, 09:37 PM Post #20 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Sun Aug 03, 2008 6:44 pm Brendyn He arrived at the stables and was greeted by a young stable hand. Nodding and adding a smile, the young soldier made his way to where Tyranus was waiting: ears perked foreward, eyes gentle and playful...plus the signature shrill winny from the horse. Brendy always called it a battle cry of sorts, but there were times when it was the animal's way of saying that Brendyn had been missed. Greeting the coal black horse in his native language, Brendyn gave Tyranus a firm but loving pat on the massive black neck. "See they've taken good care of you, my gentle giant. Have you been have yourself?" Brendyn almost laughed knowing the horse would respond as he had been trained to do. Tyranus nodded his head heartily, his long mane flowing with the motion. For as long as they had been companions, Brendyn never lost his awe at how lovely this animal was. He patted the horse again with the promise that some time on the next day, perhaps they could go over some skills in the arena...provided it was not crowded. Before leaving, the soldier gave Tyranus a carrot. "See ya soon, lad, and rest up because you never know what adventure will await us tomorrow." Brendyn wrapped the cloak about him feeling a pinch with some pain where Evana had tended to his wound earlier this morning. It was already doing better, and Brendyn shuddered to think of what would have happened if Titrus had not acted so quickly. He owed the man his life! A soldier was not much without two arms....though he had seen some fight with only one eye and be very skilled at it. His mind still rolled over the finding of the ruined gate and how Quintus had praised him for the find...but he had promised Titrus he'd carry out his punishment. He made his way to the tavern to get a bit to eat before going onto the wall for the night. As he entered the tavern, Brendyn noticed one of the knights he had met after the battle, and he tried to recall his name. The other was a face he could not forget: the other soldier who had been with the prisoners in the infirmary earlier. The man who he felt had left the older woad have too much freedom. Or at least that was how he saw it. He looked over and nodded politely, before seating himself for a quick meal of soup and bread. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 13 2010, 10:32 PM Post #21 |
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Author: linnet Date: Sun Aug 03, 2008 8:13 pm Gawain and Mother Lavinia Gawain wasn’t expecting the detour Lavinia wove rather than returning directly to Galahad. He hesitated a moment before following on her collision course with Lancelot and the whore so intently interested in him. The blond knight didn’t dare leave the nun, suspecting that she just might forget about Galahad, if her aged memory was as weak as her eyesight. But she clearly had a purpose as she swooped upon the surprised First Knight and pushed her concoction to his eye.
Shrugging and raising his eyebrows in innocence, Gawain took the condescending sarcasm one more time. He wondered if Lancelot ever tired of being a jerk. He didn’t remind the cocky knight that it had been his idea to find Lavinia, and that Gawain had only done it because someone had to, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be the gods’ greatest gift to everyone once Eyla showed up. Instead he watched impatiently as Lavinia and the whore squared off.
The old nun had been willing to let the brazen prostitute wait while she sewed up Galahad. Then she could get her precious herbs, without even a lecture. Lavinia was not so tied to Church dogma that she couldn’t see the need to keep unwanted bastards from being brought into a world of hunger and neglect. She had even been willing to forego comments on the suggestive way Eyla had been pressing herself against the knight. But the vulgar joke of being good on her knees, and the open solicitation to Lancelot were too much for Lavinia to ignore. “Leave, now. Both of you,” she said, genuine anger tightening the muscles of her dour face, “This is a public facility. There are young children here. Take whatever immoral business you wish to transact and continue it elsewhere.” The old woman fixed her icy gaze on Lancelot. “I misjudged you, sir, as a man of some decency and intelligence. If this is how you behave in public places, and she the company you want to keep, get out.” Gawain looked from Lavinia to Lancelot, and then at Eyla. He was beginning to think that subtlety was not among the lovely prostitute’s arsenal of charms. He moved closer to Lancelot and inclined his head toward the Dark Knight in order to keep his voice low. “You leave, you lose, my friend. Pay up, because the old girl sure as hell isn’t smiling now.” |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 13 2010, 10:33 PM Post #22 |
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Author: Kayla Date: Sun Aug 03, 2008 9:48 pm Fiona Fiona wondered just how much Galahad's wound hurt. It certainly looked painful and this was confirmed when she noticed him flinch when the cloth first touched his skin and an audible hiss was heard, her touch becoming a bit more gentle as she ran the wetness over his hard stomach. She kept working at it, only taking her eyes away from his wound to glance up at him when he asked her a question. Of course, her answer hadn't been exactly forthcoming in answer to the question he had asked, concerning why she was here. The young woad thought that it had been a little obvious and answered in that manner, continuing her work after a simple look towards him, as if to ask what it was that he wanted from her. There wasn't any particular reason behind her staying, besides the fact that she liked being a help rather than a bother, which was almost always how it turned out to be when she wanted to do something for someone and was turned away for a number of different reasons. She didn't like not being given the opportunity to prove herself because contrary to what anyone might have thought, she could be a help somewhere else besides on the battlefield, even if that was where she was wanted the most, at least by her father. Glancing behind her when she heard Galahad let out a laugh, she followed his gaze over to where Lancelot and a woman(Eyla) were standing. Fiona cocked her head to the side, taking in the appearance of her beautiful appearance and the woad frowned for a moment, wondering who she was. Turning her head forward again, she set to ringing out the cloth once more, amazed at the amount of blood that had managed to spill out in the time since whatever had happened to him. Her mouth opened to ask him the question of what had happened, always having been the type to think that if someone could ask her a question she should at least have the chance to ask one back. And even if she didn't, she tended to squeeze one in there just because it was her nature to be openly curious about things that she didn't know about or things that she was interested in learning more about. His laughter stopped but she didn't look up, just kept on doing what she had been told to do. For the second time in the last day, Fiona received a shock when Galahad reached out and grabbed her wrist, stopping her from cleaning. Her eyes snapped up, wide and questioning, wondering what he was doing and why he felt the need to hold onto her. She didn't pull away though, just stood there and watched him, stared into his eyes and saw the hurt that was there. She released a hard breath when the knight loosened his grip on her arm and was surprised to see that he didn't let go, just moved it lightly down until it reached her hand.
He turned away from her but she still kept her gaze on his face as he spoke out, answering her question. The young woman pushed out a small sigh, bending her head down to look at his fingers still on her hand for a moment before returning them back up to his face, shaking her head slightly. "I don't believe you," she said, her voice barely audible as she stated what was probably already obvious but in truth, she didn't know what else to say. Whatever had happened, it was clearly something he didn't want to talk about and she didn't want to push it either, not after seeing the way he'd looked at her. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 13 2010, 10:34 PM Post #23 |
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Author: SarmatianKnight Date: Mon Aug 04, 2008 10:06 am Lucius The time flew and the day itself spun away. Lucius was not able to remember what he had done in all these hours and in fact, was it in important in any way? Not for him. Obviously he had done something. He remembered the arrival of Arthur and the knights and he knew that he had not liked what he had seen, he remembered that he had prayed and that he had met Derfel, he knew that there would be an ale shared between them. So probably this was the reason why he sat here now, alone and kind of waiting for something to happen? Possible. He could not really tell. No, that was wrong. He could not tell at all and again, it was not important. He sat there, hands folded in front of him and staring at the scratched and stained wood of the heavy table. What was important was the smell that surrounded him. It was her. When he had entered the tavern the had known exactly why he had come here and who he wanted to meet. He had know with what activities he had spent the day. But then there had been this well known and delicious smell, sweet but not more than a faint hint of air and with this he had known that she was here. She, who had turned him into a murderer. She, who he had loved the most of all his siblings. The Roman had scanned the tavern but had been unable to find her. Why? What was she doing here at all? The tavern was no proper place for a girl like his sister was. Had been. His gaze darkened when he relaised that it was impossible to find what he hoped for to find under all these men surrounding him and his heart froze at the memory that the smell that was no more left. That had been the moment when his mind had went blank and everything else had left his normally down-to-earth brain.
Lucius almost jumped when the unexpected grasp at his shoulder brought him back into the world of reality. He squeezed his eyes slightly when he looked up at the man who addressed him and it took a moment until he remembered why he was here and who this other soldier was, sitting down at his table. But thank God (and he certainly meant that literally) the presence of the odd smell was gone the moment Derfel sat down and his own mind was able to be used again. Lucius' eyes turned from a deep black back into the regular soft brown and he returned the offered smile with a hint of amusement when he saw Derfel stretching out his legs. "I would suggest a more comfortable place then than a wooden bench in a smelly tavern." While the expression in his eyes had changed immediatly Lucius was not able to give up the defensive posture so easily. But finally he waved at one of the wenches and ordered them "a jug and a barrel of ale". His tone was dead serious and he ignored the puzzled gaze the not so young and not so gorgeous woman gave him. He gave her an encouraging nod instead and focused on Derfel again. "Long day, hm?" He had still not found his own cloak - wherever he had lost it. The Roman did not wear his armour at the moment and had no weapons with him (he was grateful for that fact because he hated that heavy sword he could not handle very well) because his duty was over for the day. The leather band with the little pendants around his neck was well hidden beneath his clothes which were simple and the least giving away how much money his family had. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 13 2010, 10:36 PM Post #24 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Mon Aug 04, 2008 12:04 pm Amadeus Amadeus was furious. He was livid. He had never been so undermined by such an imbecile! He was beginning to wonder if he was wrong about the Sarmatians... he had expected such shit from one of them, but not from a man who was meant to be a part of the Roman Army, not from a man that was supposedly on Rome's side, a man freely employed into the Roman army and ... by God!!! Rome would hear of this - Rome would hear of how her soldiers behaved in this last outpost, Rome would know precisely how disastrously close she was to losing her foothold here and all because of inept and idiotic men like Captain Bloody Barbattus! Whose side was he on anyway? Did he deliberately scupper the negotiations... or what chance there was for negotiations? No one dared over-take him on the road as they rode heavily towards the green embankments that would lead them to the road to Badon Hill. Amadeus' dark hair was whipped back, his handsome though sharp face was expressive as he stared forward, grey eyes leaving no one in any doubt that he was incensed with anger. And he did not care one ounce if none of those behind him survived. Let them all rot, let them receive a woad arrow in the back and be done with it for they would serve him no purpose. It was only when the heavy sound of Badon's gates were opening did the Optio turn to look over his shoulder at his patch-work companions. His eyes slid over Mordred and Tristan, indicating with a nod of his head that they could go about their own business once inside - and then he looked at Barbattus, intending on turning away from him immediately when he saw the woman slumped over the saddle. "What the fuck!" he growled, furious, turning his horse to face Barbattus. He had brought the damn whore back to Badon!??! For what? What possible purpose could she serve behind these walls now? Now that she had proven herself to be a traitor to her own people and proven to them that she would not keep her word. She was nothing to no-one and Barbattus had seen fit to bring her here why?! Glaring fiercely at Barbattus, Amadeus' horse stmoped it's hoof sharply against the ground - the Optio gestured with a gloved finger towards the fortress. "Inside. Dungeons with her - and you go to the barracks and stay there until Arthur or myself calls for you." the Optio snapped, spitting at the ground to the side as he kicked his horses flanks to get the equine to move forward, in through the open gates of Badon. Mari Mari was the original Peter Pan... she believed anything was possible if you just wished hard enough. Her hopes and aspirations were like Roman siegetowers - almost impossible to bring down. And it had nothing to do with the past either, with what she had and had not been able to achieve in her few short years. Mari's hopes were all just part of her nature, they were in her make up, the very essence of her spirit. The place was ransacked now, but Mari could see it in her mind in a few days time - with the roof fixed, a new mattress on the bed, a few little kitchen pieces maybe.... it would look very pretty in a few days. Once they started working the young woman started to hum a tune - happy and content to be there with Milan, tidying and clearing. They both took it easy as they were not in the best shape - Milan from his time in the dungeons and subsequent beating by Kolya, and Mari from her attack by Mordred and her subsequent heroics against the woads! As she moved from place to place, tidying, clearing, washing, Mari rabbitted on about idle things, yapping across to Milan who was characterisically silent, smiling when the time was right and nodding to her requests. She planned her day tomorrow - going to a thatcher to get someone to fix what was on the roof, then going to a carpenter and seeing about getting a few pieces of furniture like tables and chairs and maybe a drawer set! for a nice price. She was going to gather what she could from her saddlebags and she was even planning on going to the fortress and seeing if they might need her as a maid about the place, fetching and tidying, cooking or whatever... just to get some more money so that she could buy a nice blanket for the bed. Milan was working on the fire and as she spoke, Mari found herself stifling yawns more often than not. The fire was lit and she inevitably drawn to the warmth, flopping down onto the blanket that Milan brought to her. She smiled her thanks and stared into the flames whimsically. Milan brought another blanket down and wrapped it around them. Instinctively Mari lay back against his chest, his arms around her as she sat between his legs, her own pulled up close to her chest. It was cold outside but inside where they both sat it was warm. A tickling against her neck was Milan trailing a strand of misplaced hair back into it's proper place. Mari smiled, shutting her eyes and delighting in the feel of his cold finger against her downy ear. She tilted her head to one side and opened one eye, looking at him peacefully. And for once in her life she did feel at peace, she felt like she wasn't running anywhere, she wasn't going to be left behind. She was home. "We should get a dog too..." she commented with a wry smile, closing her eyes as she awkwardly tipped her head back, brushing her lips against the underside of Milan's chin, placing her hand on his knee to one side of her and giving the limb a slight squeeze as she gave a small chime of laughter. "I like dogs but I could never have one because we were constantly moving from place to place. It'd be nice to have one now..." Mari said, her other hand holding his, slowly sliding upwards, her fingers inadvertently brushing against the scar tissue on his wrist, her neck twisted enough to allow her to kiss Milan's jaw whilst she spoke. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 13 2010, 10:52 PM Post #25 |
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Author: Starbelle Date: Mon Aug 04, 2008 2:18 pm Jols After starting to slow them down gradually from a gallop to a walk, since he'd done the exact opposite, to get them warmed up earlier properly. Once that was done, he walked over and speaking softly to them, unhooked the rein of each horse's bridle to take them into their stalls to get brushed down after the work-out. Half-way there, he heard the clattering echo of hoofbeats on the hard ground of the entrance way. Continuing on towards the stables, Jols entered and placed the mounts into their stalls removing the bridle from each one, to begin cleaning them up and brushing them down from their work-out, giving each one a sugar cube as a treat for a good job. When done, he entered the courtyard to see who was coming in and to assist them with their mounts. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 13 2010, 10:56 PM Post #26 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Mon Aug 04, 2008 4:09 pm Sunset (Evening) Saoirse Saoirse saw the surprise in his eyes and smiled. It was a faint smile, a sad smile. She tilted her head to her shoulder and looked down at her lovers lips, at his neck, anything to avoid his eyes, seeing the pain in his eyes and knowing that it had been a stupid question to ask. But she cuoldn't help it. She wanted nothing more than to just have him back to normal, to have him smile again... gods be damned! she wanted to go back to the days when the only thing he had to be angry and upset over was her and what she had done. This new sorrow was unbearable for them both. And it was unfixable too.
The red head didn't realise that she had been holding her breath until he spoke and she felt her head ache with a lack of oxygen. She exhaled hard and nodded her head, leaning down to kiss his lips gently before withdrawing, her eyes still closed. "Thank you." she murmured then stood up. Smiling slightly, Saoirse looked down at her bandaged leg and scratched the back of her neck, testing how suitable it would be to walk on - "No problem..." she informed the Knight, winking as she sauntered off to gather what was needed to give her lover as close to a bath as he would get for a few days whilst recouperating in the infirmary. Saoirse got some of the way towards the door when she saw Lancelot and Gawain hanging about, Lavinia close by and one of the more high-class whores too. She gave a crooked smile and lifted her eyebrows. She pursed her lips as she quietly meandered behind Lavinia, making a mock face of rebuke behind the nun's back and winking at the two knights before walking out into the cold, evening air. The red head took a moment to breathe in the fresh air, letting it wash over her and refresh her somewhat. She wiped a hand down her face, feeling less fragile now than before but still rather shaky. The Irish woman headed towards the fortress, dipping her head from the cold, hobbling just a little as she wanted to avoid ruining the bandaging on her leg - that was the last thing either her or Dagonet needed. Eala Juna was careful not to startle her but Eala still did not hear her approach. The little blonde tensed and looked up sharply, relaxing only when she saw it was Juna. She sat back onto the ground then, rubbing at her arm self-consciously, bruises and welts visible against her washed skin from the struggle she had put up whilst in the fortress. She had not been mistreated as such - but she had made things awkward for those intending on coming near her. There was a sense of easiness about Eala when Juna was present. It was like the yuong girl relaxed, she never thought anything could go wrong, she never thought anyone could be hurt when Juna was there and so she saw no need to be on edge like she always was. Black eyes looked towards the healer and then to Ash, pale eyebrows creasing inwards in concern when the wound was exposed. Worried by the look of it, Eala looked from the wound to Juna and back again, noting with some sense of relief that the healer did not look concerned. Eala bit the inside of her cheek, worrying the moist, tender skin nervously. She knew the wound looked all wrong, it smelled all wrong too, but Juna was ok with it. That meant it must be ok. Right? And then Juna was standing! Oblivious to the noises around her except for some random dull sounds, Eala sprung to her feet, turning to look the same way Juna was. Her eyes narrowed and she went to move forward when she saw Neeria being bundled onto one of the Roman's horses. She didn't know if that was good or bad... as far as Eala was concerned Neeria had betrayed them all by leading the Romans anywhere near their village, she had betrayed them by striking a bargain at all. The ten-year-old looked from Ash to Juna and then settled back down again, sidling in closer to Ash this time.. When Ash shifted in pain, Eala gave a small start, sitting forward and reaching a hand out towards Juna's, as if the healer hadn't noticed that the movement had caused Ash pain. Her worried black eyes swivelled from Juna to Ash and she pulled her hand away, knowing she shouldn't intrude. She flexed her fingers in helplessness.
The little girl's nose wrinkled at his words, able to comprehend most of it as he was speaking slowly. His words were so slow she wondered if he had spoken aloud at all or if he had just mouthed the words for her benefit. Eala took the fact quite badly however.. not that she wouldn't be getting rid of him, but that he thought she might want rid of him. She puffed out her cheeks sullenly and felt tears prick the corners of her eyes. Shameful! Crying! Eala sniffled and turned away, shifting around on her butt so that her back was to Ash now, her arms folded in front of her as she looked petulantly at the trees. She didn't want rid of Ash - he was the only thing she had now. Eala glanced over her shoulder at Ash, intending to be justifiably prickly, but seeing his head lolled to one side, seeing the wound so open adn painful she just sighed, shoulders sagging. Her tiny hand reached out behind her and she touched her fingertips to Ash's hand, tapping them against his skin as if looking for his attention or playing a game- but finally juts let her fingers rest against his hand in a gesture of comfort and friendship. When Juna reached for an item, Eala reached quicker and handed it to the healer, looking up at her with wide, black eyes - the eyes of a warrior in the face of a child. Kolya
Kolya gave a wry smile at her words. Life would be different? Did people really think like that? Did they look at life in the future and think it would be such a way? He had never been one to do such things like that. He lived for the moment - from minute to minute and nothing beyond. It might have been the fact that, for a long time, his life had been so tenuous - it had been a minute to minute affair, he might not have been alive in the next minute after all. No, Kolya did not think his life had deviated too far from it;s course because he had never thought far enough ahead to presume a course.
The Sarmatian was still smiling lopsidedly when Alina looked back at him. He raised his eyebrows, brushing his fingers along the nape of her neck and down to her shoulder in slow, gentle sweeps whilst she shrugged and spoke. She seemed incredulous - which amused Kolya. Her words were not so amusing - but that might have more to do with the fact that Kolya didn't understand it, he didn't understand what she meant. He lifted his hand and stroked one side of his face with his fingertips as he thought about what she had said. Did he continue to pry, to poke and prod her into a corner, or did he do the honourable thing and give up now? It would be easy to give up - but a very real part of Kolya didn't want to give up. It wasn't that he thought he was better for Alina, it wasn;t that he ws in love with her at all, he was just prodding out of the goodness of his heart. Did Alina really think she was as happy as she could be with Galahad? Obviously not.. "Who says I want anything from you at all? I'm a simple man Alina. I'm not complicated or underhanded. What you see is what you get. I only asked if you had had enough of me today... if you say yes I'll disappear for now. There's no guarantee I won't be back tomorrow though. I'm just trying to do the best thing by you for once..." he chuckled huskily. Galahad
Galahad didn't mean to hurt her. He was curious about why she was hanging around instead of just getting the hell out of there. It was strange that someone, anyone, would want to be in the infirmary. With Gawain and Lancelot it was different. Gawain actually cared, and Lancelot was just making sure that he wasn't going to cause anymore problems for him to explain to Arthur - but Fiona. Well, now, her presence was strange. Galahad was borderline selfish, so he found it hard to fathom that anyone would be there helping mop up blood and bad humours out of the goodness of their hearts. When Fiona spoke the young knight gave a snort of mild irritation, rolling his blue eyes upwards and tilting his head back too, knowing he had tears in his eyes but not wanting her to see them. "You don't have to believe me." he said testily, tensing his jaw and curling his fingers into his palm away from her hand. His chest was rising and falling quicker now, agitation starting to kick in, his well-honed muscles giving the odd protesting shiver at the pain her ministrations caused. Galahad remained quiet, not wanting to converse - but he couldn't keep his mouth shut for very long. It was not in his nature. Fiona's touch was a little close to the wound and the young Sarmatian hitched in a sharp breath, shifting his bdoy to the side as he glared across at her - "Ah! Gods - what the hell are you trying to do to me?" he complained sullenly, sharply. He raised himself up on one elbow, groaning and placing a hand to his forehead as his drink-addled head swam painfully, little soldiers marching across his brain on horses wearing boots. His lips turned a pale shade of green as he shut his eyes and waited for the world to steady. When they opened he reached out and took the cloth from Fiona, mumbling about 'pain' and 'clumsy' and 'child' as he attempted to dab around teh wound. Of course with him sitting up he had creased the muscles in his stomach and in turn, he had broken the skin on the wound on his stomach, causing it to open and bleed once more. And the angle was all wrong - when he dabbed at the skin around the wound it hurt like hell! Galahad groaned and fell back onto the bed, a cold sweat breaking out on his pale skin. He lifted his two hands to his face, covering his eyes with the heels of his hands, leaving the cloth sitting on his flat stomach which was tight with pain right now. That had been a bad idea - but he was damned if he'd admit it. "Where's that miserable old ... " he whined, twisting his head side to side to see if he could find Lavinia, get the wound bandaed and get the hell out of there. He didn't want an audience to his falling-apart. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 13 2010, 10:58 PM Post #27 |
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Author: Lancelot Date: Mon Aug 04, 2008 7:01 pm Lancelot Lancelot cocked his head to the side as the nun spouted her tirade at he and Eyla. Gawain slightly smirking was not helping the first knight's mood, and he dropped his hand as he slowly forgot his black eye as Eyla's teasing brought a thunderous dark expression to Lavinia's face. Gods. She'd never smile now.
Lancelot knew that Eyla had gone too far when she mentioned being on her knees; most devout Christians seemed to not be able to take any kind of joke in regards to their religion. No matter. The harlot could take it. What darkened his face was the way the nun spoke to him - as if he were less than a knight, less than what he was, less than Arthur's man and by rights due a bit of respect. But then again, he was Rome's bitch, and he was certain that everyone who wasn't a conscript felt the same. His eye narrowed to a slit - it seemed to match the one that was swollen, and he stepped up to the nun, his gaze matching hers, anger for anger. He crossed his arms over his slender chest and spoke through clenched teeth for her ears alone. "Listen, madam. I know what this woman is. I have kept her company on plenty of ocassions and will continue to do so. But when any person, no matter their stature or place in this stinking hellhole of a country, has information about my commanding officer that might be of assistance to me - if I find out that he's been holding out, when I could have helped - " He stopped his hissing. What would Lavinia care? They were all the same; Romans, Britons, the fucking doctors, the locals, the whores, the hangers on, all of them. The Sarmatians were alone in this land, and everything and everyone would use them as they saw fit. He had liked the old woman; her fire seemed to match his own spirit. But now...well, once again, 'God' and the morals of His followers seemed to have come between Lancelot and something possibly good. He sighed roughly. His body ached, he hadn't eaten, he was sure he stank, and here he stood, arguing with a damn Christian nun, caring about what she thought of him, when a perfectly decent, no thoughts required whore waited for him. As Arthur would say, Jesus. "Think what you like. Just, see to Galahad, as he is my brother and I need him alive and in good condition. We may be the scum of this place - but as long as we breathe, we watch your back. Give me that, at least." He turned and met Gawain's eyes.
"I acquiesce. Find me later." Who cared about yet another bet lost today? His words were clipped and short. "I will report to Arthur on Galahad - please see to him as best you can." He turned on his heel, but first dropped the poltice Lavinia had given him back into her hand. "I will allow the 'woman' to 'kiss me better.' Gods forbid I should use up what supplies you have left." His mouth stretched in a rictus of a grin, but his insides churned and he felt like being sick. Lancelot - Lancelot, the arrogant, sneering, leather clad, scary black knight was tired. And he wanted for nothing but for people to give him either 1) a chance, or 2) to leave him the hell alone. "Eyla," he said, his tone switching on cue to a purr. "Perhaps we should continue this conversation elsewhere. I seem to be persona non grata as of this moment. Besides, I think you can tell me more about your kneeling talents in private." He swaggered to her, exaggerating his movements, and without warning, planted his full lips on hers, in full view of everyone else. Hard, and with the force of all his passion and pent up anger. He broke away from her, and took her arm in his. "Shall we?" His voice was low and sibilant, and his non-swollen eye glittered like a diamond hidden in a long-forgotten sand covered cave. Hadrian's balls, but some days Lancelot wished he'd died in a damn battle already. Fuck this feeling shit. Fuck the constant thinking he had to do in order to stay just one step ahead of everyone who had it in for him. Fuck being here - fuck Briton, and most of all, fuck the one person whom he thought he could trust. The one he'd told things to that no other person alive had heard. He wanted to weep with the agony and sheer fucking rage it caused. Well. The feel of Eyla's soft arm under his hand was rapidly becoming desirable, despite the intense amount of anger he was being plagued by. Why not take her? Why not be the ass, the bastard, the wanton braggart everyone thought he was? Why not be the one who couldn't say I love you when it mattered? He met her eyes again, and his mouth curled into a dark, unwanted smile. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 13 2010, 11:00 PM Post #28 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Mon Aug 04, 2008 8:35 pm Derfel Lucius had offered the exhausted Derfel a smile as the knight settled in his seat at their table. He certainly appreciated the effort after spending the day with Drake, who Derfel was certain never cracked even so much as a grin across that leathery and weathered expression of his. Yet, as Derfel’s tired eyes met Lucius’ kind ones all that the knight could think of was the easy-going way that Gedeon always had about him….Derfel’s closest mate here at the fortress….and he was gone; lost forever back there on that battlefield. A stab of guilt raked at Derfel’s heart for not finding his best friend’s remains…for Dagonet and for Linnette. I failed him…failed them both. And Derfel was not thinking of Dagonet and Linnette, but of Gedeon and his father. Fate was cruel. Surely his expression briefly reflected the darkness and pain that had a hold on Derfel’s heart. But he was not so sure he wished to unload all that troubled him on a man he had only just met this morning. But Linnesse was still so fragile and mourning Gedeon same as he so he couldn't burden her further tonight….Derfel momentarily shut his eyes against it all and tried to focus on something else….anything else.
Lucius’ voice luckily forced Derfel to focus on his new friend and not continue to fall into a dark stuper over all the painful events from the mission. The knight offered a genuine smile in gratitude as Lucius ordered the ‘barrel of ale’ from a serving girl. Thank the gods someone knew what Derfel needed right at this very moment.
“Aye…that it has been,” Derfel blew out an exasperated breath and raked a hand through his sandy blonde hair…and for the first time truly took a good look at his new friend that sat across the table from him. Lucius was dressed rather plainly, no doubt due to his modest pay as a soldier of Rome, and had no truly distinctive markings about his face or hands. Perhaps he’d not seen too many battles yet, or if he did have the scars of a soldier they were well concealed. Derfel’s were, for the most part, on his legs with the exception of the cut across the palm of his left hand and a blade nick over his left eye. The ordered ale was delivered by the not so cheery tavern woman. She gave Derfel quite a look-over for the barrel she had to heft over to their table. But he quickly dug into his pocket and retrieved his coin purse promptly laying down enough in payment to satisfy the woman. He gave the server a wink and she quickly bustled off to tend to the other thirsty patrons. “You are going to give me a hand in drinking this?” Derfel half laughed as he uncorked the barrel and tipped it enough to fill his mug. By the gods did the draught ever smell bloody fantastic! “Cheers, me friend,” Derfel briefly lifted his mug to Lucius and then took a healthy drink of the poignant brew. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand and sighed in utter contentment as he savored the drink. With luck, Derfel would be well into his cups before he had to face Linnette again tonight. “What news of the day? Any Woads seen runnin’ about while I was busy heftin’ furniture all day?” Derfel asked before taking another generous drink of ale. He was curious to know if they were safe….if Arthur had been successful in making a new treaty of peace with Merlin. Anything to keep Derfel’s thoughts away from darker things….My father is dead because of me…my best friend is dead because of ME. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 13 2010, 11:02 PM Post #29 |
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Author: sabor ice Date: Tue Aug 05, 2008 2:13 am Milan
He listened to her words, but he wasn't really paying attention. At random intervals where his mind would register a pause in her speech - whether it was a relevant pause where he was meant to answer or just a gasp for air between sentences - he'd nod his head or smile, some silent gesture to acknowledge her words. Of course Milan was unaware in these moments just what he was acknowledging or agreeing to. He might've been confessing to dressing up like a woman in his youth, or committing a murder, and he wouldn't have realized it. He was far too distracted, in ways he had never been distracted before. Milan was distracted by her. Her voice was soothing, like a lullaby, but musical, like the pealing of church bells. Familiar. Comforting. Her angel's whispers a sound that made him feel safe. He closed his eyes, and he was not afraid of the darkness. His voluntary blindness only seemed to heighten the other distracting sensations. The shifting of her weight against his chest was feather-like, almost unnoticeable, as if her small body had merely been sculpted from his, moving with him, something apart of him. One of his hands rested at the nape of her neck now, the digits dropping past the hollow of her throat, closer to her collarbone. Her skin felt strange beneath his fingertips - silky, undeniably warm as if a blush had just claimed its ivory perfection, delicate even. Her soft lips against the underside of his chin made a shiver course through his body - in that moment, Milan felt delighted and frightened all at once. Delighted because he enjoyed Mari's closeness, more than he ever could've imagined. The gentle touch of her mouth to his icy skin was overwhelming, the beginning embers to a fire. Frightened because these new feelings were foreign to him. He didn't know what it meant, and he didn't know what to expect or how to act on them. Or if he should act on them. Or if he should even be feeling the way he was. For a brief moment, he wondered what she was thinking, what she was feeling. He considered asking her, but the notion immediately sounded ridiculous to him. He'd have been much too embarrassed to hear her answer, too. The brush of her tender digits over the scar tissue of his marked wrist reminded him he hadn't the right to ask anything of her. With a half-hearted sigh, Milan placed both hands on her shoulders and shifted her forward, away from him. A few moments ticked by. His hands remained in place. His eyes were contemplative, torn by indecision. Usually this was the part where he'd pull away from her, but this time he didn't budge. Instead he began tenderly massaging the stiff tendons around her shoulders with his steady, sure hands. The new distraction was more for him than for her. Alina
Typical male strategic answer attempting to mask an underlying infraction to her fishing. Typical Kolya. He did too want something, of that she was convinced. Then it occurred to Alina that maybe, just maybe, he wanted something, but he didn't know what. She saw no conflict, no indecision in his face, but it didn't persuade her to completely abandon her new theory. She was far too self-absorbed at the moment, however, to consider it possible for him to be battling even a fraction - a hint of a fraction - of the internal struggle she was currently facing. The possibility amused her, though, on some masochistic level it had registered on. Something else occurred to her then, and this thought much less satisfying than the last - what if he actually did know what he wanted? That ruffled her feathers quite a bit, the thought of him knowing what he wanted while she remained trapped inside her own heart, wandering blindly and searching for her own answers. Any hint of smugness creeping onto her face was instantly vanquished by doubt. She groaned into her hands, feeling dejected over the more realistic probability that out of the two of them, she was still the only one who didn't know what she wanted. "You are so irritating," Alina grumbled, throwing him a quick, sharp look. The spunk of the old Alina had briefly re-surfaced. She didn't know what it was about Kolya that always had her thinking so much, but it was getting tiring. He probably found it falling-on-the-ass funny to see how deeply he could get under her skin now, and without even trying! She didn't want to look at him again to find out. Resolutely, the woman dug her heels into the step below her and attempted to stand, quickly losing her footing with the sharp pain in her right ankle being too burdensome, causing her to flop back into the former knight's lap like a silly off-balanced toddler. "Let go of me," she huffed petulantly, as if he had been at fault for her falling. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 13 2010, 11:03 PM Post #30 |
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Author: Darya Date: Tue Aug 05, 2008 10:00 am Darya and Neeve The dark Sarmatian’s gaze lingered on the door as it was pushed open…and a Roman officer entered. Darya tilted her head a little and watched the man approach his superior officer. She could not recall the man’s name but thought to have seen him before… Raking a hand through her long hair for a moment, the woman straightened her back, waiting for what would happen next…
Unconsciously, Darya furrowed her brow at Titrus' words, already wondering what urgent news it could be. Her dark gaze shifted from Titrus to Arthur and back. Should she leave? The woman was not sure. She certainly would at the first sign her lover would give her… However, to not let Titrus feel too watched, the dark-haired then moved towards the table and picked her still half-filled mug up to quietly sip some water. After the last days, she could go with something much stronger…but considering her new condition, that was a no-go. Sighing silently, Darya slowly drank some more water while listening to the Romans' conversation…focusing on their words to not mix them with all other thoughts that were still keeping her mind busy… Meanwhile, Neeve finally approached the thick door that led to the Commander’s room. She hoped the food was still warm but her gut had told her to make a little detour to her own room to pick up the spare bandages and the rest of the salve that she had left from the Roman’s first treatment. The Briton knew Arthur for too long to really believe that he had rested as ordered. No doubt her work on his injury had suffered already… Wrinkling her nose at the more thought, the healer had no problems to let a stern expression to return to her features while she lifted her hand…and knocked at the door… |
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