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| August 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Apr 12 2010, 09:09 PM (2,838 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | Apr 16 2010, 12:22 AM Post #76 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Tue Aug 12, 2008 4:34 pm Tristan
His eyes focused downward on the injured bird, Tristan deftly and carefully took her from the weaver girl- still wrapped in a thick piece of cloth that hung down almost to the ground. With infinite gentleness, Tristan folded back the layer of cloth covering the bird and tried to assess the damage. The wing...it was clearly the left wing that was injured, but he couldn't tell just yet if it was actually broken or just wrenched or what. And how had it happened? He reached out to comfortingly stroke the bird on the head with one finger, smoothing her soft feathers...but then became uncomfortably aware that Ione was still there, looking up at him earnestly and anxiously. Oh, of course...the cloth was her cloak. Tucking the bird into the crook of one arm, he started to unwind the cloak from around her, taking almost painful care the whole time- but then Ione spoke again.
"Well..." Tristan was momentarily stymied by her statement. Hadn't she already helped- by bringing him the bird? Why did it matter so much to her, anyway? Perhaps she was one of those women with a soft spot for all animals...yes, that must be it. "I, er..." Tristan unwrapped another layer of the cloak, a little awkwardly because there was so much extra dangling down now. He was rapidly feeling like he was getting lost in it- a whole floor-length cloak, even a woman's, was not the most convenient thing to wrap up a small hawk in. "I don't suppose you have...anything smaller?" He eyed Ione uncertainly, then quickly continued. "I'll get it back to you as soon as I can." Mentally he reviewed the contents of his saddlebags as he returned his gaze down to the bird again, but while he wouldn't have hesitated to tear up a shirt or somesuch for a splint if they had been out on a scouting trip, it seemed a bit of a waste to do so right here in the stables. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 16 2010, 12:29 AM Post #77 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Tue Aug 12, 2008 6:43 pm Ione With all of the gentleness she had not expected to see from any knight, Ione watched Tristan peel the heavy fabric from the injured bird. Ione felt a bit foolish about using something so heavy, but she had wanted to keep the bird warm and prevent it from going into shock. The way he stroked it's feathers while trying to assess the damaged wing. Ione wished she could have done more for it, and she hoped that Tristan would let her help with the hawk. She remembered the first time she had met Tristan, the knight with the hawk. She had watched handlers before and wondered what it was like to have one perched high and proud on your arm, or watch it go free. The beautiful brown feathers...the fierce golden eyes....the way it seemed to "communicate" with her master right now. As he started to unwind the cloak, Ione waited uncertainly hoping she had done the right thing. The cloak was long, and it looked ridiculously long to wrap such a small bird in, but as she had thought before, it had been to keep it warm and to steady the wing so that it did not flap around much. Her offer to help had come from her heart. right now, it made her forget all of the other problems she was facing Her concern now was to see that the bird would survive and heal well. Her next concern was Tarik who was looking very pregnant with Maelwys’s colt. But that colt would not be born for a few more months though...late Spring she guessed. Tristan's soft voice broke her thoughts...
Ione's eyes met his, then looked at the light weight woven shawl that she wore with this particular dress. It rested over her shoulders, and was only used as extra warmth. She moved to help Tristan with the long flowing cloak steadying it until it lay on the floor about their boots . "My shawl..." Reaching up, Ione undid the shawl which was not as long as the cloak, and would fit around the bird's body a lot better. "I ripped it on a nail....you can use it how you wish...You need not return it, Tristan." She handed the shawl to the knight meaning every word she had said. Being a weaver, Ione could always make herself another. They needed to find a safe place to work on the hawk as well, and the only place closest to here was her quarters. Ione bent over and picked up her cloak. "My quarters are close....if you wish a safe place to work on her....." Ione did not want him to think badly of her, or that she had deliberately suggested her quarters, but it was a safe place for them to work. There was a fresh water basin there with fresh water, and other things he could use if he wanted to. The stables were just not safe, and the noises would distress the bird more.... |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 17 2010, 01:39 AM Post #78 |
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Author: Kay Date: Wed Aug 13, 2008 5:32 am Guinevere
The anger in Merlin's voice made Guinevere wince. She watched as he moved away; her body was tense with a sense of injustice. What else was she to have done? Let one of the men maul her? Allow the drunken warriors to roll around the forest doing who knew what? She sighed heavily and stalked away to where the dead men lay. Gazing down at their lifeless faces, she felt only anger at the men, and at their whole sex that they should be governed so easily by their baser desires. Women were stronger than that! she thought. But then she remembered poor, deranged Mona. Most women were stronger than that, the princess corrected herself. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 17 2010, 01:40 AM Post #79 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Wed Aug 13, 2008 8:02 am Tristan
“I can’t just…” Tristan muttered a protest, disturbed by the idea of just taking Ione’s shawl, ripped on a nail or no, and using it in pieces for a bird splint, but despite his inner misgivings, he found himself reaching out and taking it anyway. He needed something, and she was offering…but he had really thought more along the lines of just a scrap of cloth. Shaking his head, he handed it back to her, placing it on top of the cloak which she had now gathered in her arms.
“Mmmm…here.” Tristan shook his head again and pointed over with his free hand at the entrance to the tack room at the side of the main stable doors. Closer even than Ione’s quarters, and he could probably find his requirements there. Once they had taken a few steps towards it, he offered the hawk back to her with a questioning look on his face- he needed her to hold the bird for a moment while he solved their need for a piece of cloth. If anyone’s clothing was going to be used for this, it was going to be his, not Ione’s. A strip off the bottom of his shirt would probably do the trick. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 17 2010, 01:41 AM Post #80 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Wed Aug 13, 2008 10:08 am Ione She held out the battered shawl to Tristan hoping that he'd take it. It was already ripped, and she saw no sense in destroying another piece of cloth when this one was already ripped. If he didn't use it, it'd probably meet with the rest of the scraps she'd use to weave a new piece of cloth. Ione was glad when the knight took it from her. It was all that she had to offer besides her help...
...Ione frowned though as he refused it placing it back on top of the cloak she had in her arms. She was ready to say something, but held back. Perhaps he had something better in mind. Of all of the knights, Tristan was the most mysterious, but Ione didn't mind. Right now, all men were a mystery to her. Well, she had given up guessing about men after Mirtha's less than happy response to her news. Ione supposed that right now, she just needed to know someone...anyone cared about her. Ione had already decided to raise the child alone.... It broke her heart to think that she was destined to be alone forever. No, she was not naive, but just when she thought she had found someone special, he had left her. When she first met Tristan, all she had wanted was a friend and nothing more. Ione still felt that way. Friends were worth their weight in gold, and a good friend was hard to find....at least one that did not take "advantage" of another. Ione broke her thoughts, and looked at the hawk in the knight's arms. To be that loved and cared for was something Ione once again could only dream about. She waited patiently to hear of Tristan's idea, and she didn't have to wait long....
...Deep chocolate eyes followed the knight's free hand toward a tack room not far off from where they were. It was closer that her quarters, and the bird could get cared for faster. Ione followed Tristan to the room, and upon arrival, he carefully handed the hawk back the her. She returned his questioning glance with one that she hoped assured him that she'd be careful and that she was not afraid of it. Her father had told her that animals and birds could sense fear in humans as well as danger, and that made them retaliate....Ione felt honored to hold such a lovely bird, and it didn't seem to mind either. The last thing she wanted was to be bitten by that powerful beak of hers. Ione talked to it softly, and the hawk's head sort of turned to study her. Patiently she waited, while Tristan thought of what he needed. Not far off there was a table that would suffice if they needed it... |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 17 2010, 01:42 AM Post #81 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Wed Aug 13, 2008 12:13 pm Tristan Fortunately, Ione seemed comfortable holding the hawk- and furthermore, the comfort seemed to be mutual. Tristan was a little surprised by that, as surprised as he had been that she had brought the bird to him in the first place, but he made no comment about it and busied himself assembling his requirements once they were in the tack room. He untucked his shirt, pulling the hem of it out from underneath the metal-studded tunic that he had worn for protection on the mission, and after making a little nick in the fabric with his knife to get it started, tore a neat strip off the bottom of it and laid it on the table. A couple of minutes of searching around produced two sticks of what he judged to be an appropriate thickness, which he cut to a suitable length. After that, he was ready for the hawk again- and he sure as hell hoped this would work. He carefully took the bird from Ione, answering her anxious cheep with a soft, nearly wordless murmur of reassurance, and set her on the table, where he could extend the wing and hopefully apply some kind of splint. It was the bone there at the upper edge of the wing that was hurt- and now that he got a closer look at it, Tristan didn't think it was all the way broken, just sprained, or whatever you would call it when it was a bird's wing. A little extra support would hopefully do it- that, and a couple of days' rest from flying. He bent his head to his task, setting the small sticks along the length of the wingbone for support, and tying them carefully into place with the strips from his shirt. It took a while before he was satisfied with the results of his work, but when he finally raised his head, he was once again surprised to see that Ione was still standing there, attentively, intently watching what he had been doing. The scout cleared his throat awkwardly. "She'll be all right," he rasped by way of reassurance, his eyes all on the hawk, one finger tenderly stroking her head feathers. He should get her something to eat next, he thought...best to keep her well fed so she wouldn't be tempted to try to fly. Maybe Vanora would have some scraps she wouldn't mind giving him. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 17 2010, 01:44 AM Post #82 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Wed Aug 13, 2008 1:00 pm Arthur The Roman winced as the tip of Neeve’s needle pierced the tender skin along his wound. The healer’s touch was as gentle as ever, but due to the fact that Arthur’s flesh was still irritated with infection…it hurt. Silently, Arthur prayed for his own swift recovery while Neeve mended the broken stitches in his side. He had felt the small affectionate kiss to his brow from Darya and briefly smiled up at her despite the discomfort of Neeve’s necessary ministrations.
Arthur offered Neeve a wry grin while biting at his bottom lip against the pain she inflicted with her sharp needle. Both of the Commander’s hands gripped at his thick muscular thighs; the only other outward indication of his discomfort as he felt the tug of the thread in his flesh as Neeve tied off the last of the fresh stitches. “That, my lady, would be a miracle should you ….manage it,” Arthur half grunted while Neeve completed her task of stitchery and went on to apply a salve. Arthur lifted his gaze to Darya again searching her expression for a sign whether or not she would accept what he was suggesting. Clearly there was apprehension in Darya’s dark eyes and although her lips parted as if to speak….silence stretched between them instead. And in that moment of silence, Arthur felt Darya’s fingers grasp a bit tighter at his shoulder….and he felt a wave of nausea wash over him again….no doubt due to the heat simmering on his brow and lack of proper rest.
“I do,” Arthur answered with complete confidence in his voice and sincerity in his liquid green eyes as he looked up at Darya’s pale face. He considered her quiet words her submission to what the Roman wished to do as well. Neeve could be much more than a midwife to Darya should Arthur fail to return from the next mission or battlefield. Neeve could physically protect Darya if need be and Arthur trusted the Briton above all other healers at the fortress. “Neeve,” Arthur’s brilliant green eyes once more turned to his trusted friend and healer as he began to explain. “Darya carries my child and it is my expressed wish that you tend her pregnancy…as a personal favor to me,” Arthur spoke without further hesitation as he focused on the Briton. Neeve had begun to apply fresh bandages and had not the chance to respond to the Commander’s words when a clear and resounding knock came at the door. Arthur’s eyes ticked to the entrance, half expecting Lancelot to come striding into the room…well, there would have been no knock preceding the dark knight’s arrival. Instead, another officious voice called through the door…
Thank God. Scipio had returned at last. And with favorable words Arthur prayed. “Come!” The Commander called out while he lifted his right arm to allow Neeve better access to re-wrap his wounded side. Unfortunately, Arthur sat barefoot and shirtless…wounded and weak…to receive his Roman second in command. Not a condition Arthur cared for anyone to see him in, but not important at the moment as Scipio carried pertinent information that Arthur had been waiting to hear for hours now. He sighed with a hint of his relief and then silently prayed to God for favorable news. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 17 2010, 01:45 AM Post #83 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Wed Aug 13, 2008 1:13 pm Drake Drake wasn't insulted. He had never given any hint to the fact that he might be able to read or write. He gave away no hints that he might be able to do anything other than soldiering. To all appearances Drake was just that - a soldier. When in truth he was a leader of men, a farmer, a mediocre blacksmith, a stable hand, killer, father and many other things to boot. No one ever paid too much attention to a man like Drake Octavius though... it was hard business getting too deep in a past like his. He was a closed book... pun intended.
Seeing Linnette's stark embarrassment at her own presumption, however, was cute adorable. Drake smirked and dipped his head, trying not to show much amusement but it was rather hard. She took the book from his hands with reverence, peering at teh spine of it, caressing it with her hand in a way that made Drake's fingers curl into his palm. He wanted to be ecstatic with her. He wanted to be excited and thrilled with her, to share in some of the feelings she was having right now, but he had blocked himself off for so damn long that it was hard to know what he was really feeling, let alone know what someone else was really feeling. So in the end he watched her perusal of the book with an almost pained look to his face.
Her honesty was touching. Drake gave a brief snort of amusement when she gave a soft laugh, he bowed his head but lifted his eyes to watch her looking at the book. It was like a treasure to her... things he took so much for granted. He had had opportunity to read books upon books in Jerusalem - his master's library had been substantial, some of the texts quite ancient too. What would Linnette have thought of that? Drake's simpering smile was wiped from his face immediately when she looked back up at him and he glanced from her hesitant smile to her hands, holding the book so carefully. Her question made him smile. It was a knowing smile, his eyes warm and pleased that she had asked. His head nodded and he tapped his fingers against the hard cover before he turned away from her. "You can..." he said, a 'but' hanging in the air between them as he went to his saddlebags, hunkering down to root amongst the random bits he possessed. He gave a murmur of acknowledgement when his fingers found what he sought and pulled out one small bound book. It was no more than the size of his hand and no thicker than his flat hand but he smiled as he walked to Linnette, offering it out to her. "But this you can borrow now. It's about a woman masquerading as a man in the town near where I came from." Drake said and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, looking down at the tiny book and wondering if Linnette would find it as amusing as he had. Of course the references to the places had been significant for him coming from there... would she find it funny too? "It's a comedy." he explained uselessly. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 17 2010, 01:46 AM Post #84 |
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Author: Starbelle Date: Wed Aug 13, 2008 2:29 pm Tatiana After sharing a friendly conversation, which soon lapsed into companionable silence between the two of them, Tatiana watched as he got his cloak from where it hung on the rack.
"Alright, Adian. I'll do that and see you later, then. Be careful out there, though whereever and whatever it is that you need to do." She said to him, a tone of caution entering her voice as she spoke to him as she wasn't quite sure if all of the woads were completly gone from the fort yet and didn't want to lose him. Debating on whether or not to wear her cloak or leave it behind, she decided on wearing it as she didn't want to catch cold as there would be plenty of times to leave it behind once Spring finally arrived. Heading out and over to the stables, Tatiana made her way up the stairs towards the top level in the barracks where her cot was and gathered up her belongings she kept there. Her box of dried herbs including the knife that she used for collecting them which she kept hidden underneath her pillow, carefully closed it and placed it inside the box too, along with a few other things. That should be just about it. After doing a bit of cleaning and a few other chores, left the stables behind and entered the quarters she now called home with Adian. Once inside, she unpacked her meager belongings and walking over the fire, stoked it gently until a warm, welcoming blaze crackled merrily in the hearth with the relaxing scent of lavender in it. Going over to her cloak that she'd taken off and laid across her bed, Tatiana placed her hands into each pocket until she found the little sticks and walking over to where they'd had their little meal placed the meat and cheese in an alternating pattern evenly on both sticks, placing them on the table and going over to the skin refilled both glasses with the wine. With the fire crackling away warming the little room, she added another small sprig of lavender to it awaiting Adian's arrival back home. I hope that he likes this as he might be hungry when he returns from where ever it is that he went and what ever errands that he had to do. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 17 2010, 01:47 AM Post #85 |
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Author: linnet Date: Wed Aug 13, 2008 4:35 pm Mother Lavinia
Lavinia stood planted firmly in front of the whore and Lancelot, listening with a measure of amazement as the knight spoke, and spoke, and spoke some more. A couple of times she was prepared to reply to something specific he brought up, but there was no opportunity to get a word in edgewise. One would have thought she had questioned his lineage, his honor, his courage, his loyalty, his sanity. As she remembered it, in what seemed like a long time ago, all she had done was demand that he and the hussy leave her infirmary if they were going to carry on lewdly in public. Admittedly, she had overreacted a little to the harlot’s crass words, but still, her overreaction was no match for that of Arthur’s first knight. The nun kept her stern gaze on the dark haired knight. There was no need for him to explain his interest in the whore, said explanation making no sense whatsoever. There was no need to suggest that she considered him scum. She certainly did not. And given the chance she would have pointed out that he was blowing her reasonable request to do his lecherous business elsewhere, way out of proportion. But by the time his words finally wound down to a trickle, he was on his way out the door. The whore was gone too, having had no more chance to sneak in so much as a peep, than Lavinia had. Still standing in the same place, after Lancelot had stepped around her to exit, Lavinia stared at the empty space where he had been. “Well, wasn’t that something?” she said and smiled. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 17 2010, 01:50 AM Post #86 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Wed Aug 13, 2008 8:34 pm Adian As he stepped out into the corridor, feeling a bit of the damp night air on his face, Adian could not help but feel that the weather was mirroring his mood. He felt he had to be alone, and to think on Thorn and the memories they had shared. It was between he and his lost love. He had not left the doorway yet, and he heard Tatiana's voice behind him....
And something you cannot be party to, Tatiana. I have to do this myself... "I'll be seein' you later, and yes, I will be careful. If you get tired, don't wait up..." Adian cast a glance back over his shoulder at his new room mate, her copper hair shining in the firelight. "...and you be careful as well, my sweet." The young man turned and headed down the corridor and out into the courtyard. Adian pulled his cloak closer about him almost making him blend in with the shadows...the same shadows that had hidden him from Thorn the night she gone off with another man, and the same ones that had allowed him to leave the fort, hunt for meat, and bring that same meat back to the fort. Hopefully, no one would ever guess that it was him. Adian had tried to do good once and had been punished for it, so his good deed, he felt, had to remain a secret. Being a carpenter, he assessed some of the damage from the recent battle...some that needed immediate attention. The barn that he had helped rebuild was in remarkable condition except for a broken window or two. The smaller building next to it was in need of some repairs. Fuckin woads anyway! You don't care who you destroy or what! You just care about your goddamn selves! You ruined my life and took away everything that I held dear! I curse you, and damn you all to hell! Tears of hate came to his deep gray eyes. Normally, he found forgiveness for some things, but this? This was not worthy of any form of forgiveness! What if someone killed Juna? What would Merlin feel about that.... the bastard! Approaching it, Adian allowed his trained hands to feel the size and shape of the snapped pieces of wood. Looking up, he saw that he was close to the infirmary. Perhaps he should check there for damage. He made a mental note of the building he was next to, and headed toward the infirmary. Stepping inside, he left his cloak fall back a bit, and began to assess the building for damage... Vanora It had been a long day for she and Bors and the children, and now the family was all together, the children fed, washed, and dressed for bed. Bors had slept quite a bit since they had gotten home, and had not even been awake long enough to eat anything much. Pulling the curtains so the children could not see their dad's leg injury, Vanora pulled back the blankets, and checked out the bandaged area. It was still a tad swollen, and looked tender. It was a good sign that the wound was draining though, and it was almost time for her to change the bandage on it...if she could do it without hurting Bors. Sometimes the cloth stuck to the wound, but perhaps if she dampened the cloth, it'd become unstuck, and things would go smoothly. Leaning toward Bors face, Vanora said softly, "Hey, it is time to change the bandage, Bors..." Just a fair warning really. Forgive me Bors, but I am a tavern manager, not a healer... |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 17 2010, 01:51 AM Post #87 |
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Author: linnet Date: Wed Aug 13, 2008 8:44 pm Gawain and Mother Lavinia Gawain watched silently and anxiously as Lancelot seemed to be winding himself tighter and tighter, like a coiled spring that was about to explode in a burst of terrible stored energy. Eyla and Lavinia both seemed dumbstruck by the Dark Knight’s tirade, although Eyla’s amused smirk contrasted markedly from Lavinia’s almost cowed look of surprise. The gist of the matter seemed to be that Lancelot would follow the nun’s order to leave – with the pretty temptress, of course. Gawain wanted them both to go and to be quick about it. Lancelot, in this state of agitation could do no good for Galahad, and was more likely to provoke the younger man than to help him. And both the Dark Knight and Eyla seemed set on a course guaranteed to provoke Lavinia. Gawain needed an unprovoked, calm Lavinia to get her ass over to Galahad. So the faster Lancelot and the fancy whore left, the better - once the matter of the wager was settled.
“Yeah, right,” the blond knight grumbled, almost under his breath. He might as well just kiss any chance of ever collecting on that bet goodbye. He wasn’t going to press the matter now. That would just hold everything up even longer. Gawain merely scowled at Lancelot in response to his ‘order’ to see to Galahad. What the hell did the man think? That Gawain would abandon his friend for some reason so urgent as say, a good fuck with the fort’s star prostitute? Ah, no fair, the fair knight relented in his mind. It was after all, Lavinia that was forcing Lancelot to go. Gawain actually breathed a sigh of relief when the First Knight and Eyla went out the door. But Lavinia just stood staring after them. He approached the old nun apprehensively, and took hold of her arm, trying to get her moving toward Galahad and Fiona. “Come on, Lavinia,” he said impatiently. She startled at the intrusion, batting at his hand as if it were a pesky fly. When she first turned her face toward him, Gawain almost thought he saw a smile on her lips. But he must not have seen right, for in the next instant her face was the perfect picture of irritation. ‘Unhand me,” she scolded, and hurried off in the direction of Galahad’s bed. Gawain followed. When they reached Fiona and the young knight, Gawain answered their wondering looks with an exasperated shake of his handsome head. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 17 2010, 01:52 AM Post #88 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Wed Aug 13, 2008 9:15 pm Ione Ione and the bird studied each other. It was one of the best moments that had happened to her since returning to the fort, and Ione was glad that Tristan had allowed her to help him in caring for the bird. Around her homestead, Ione had loved to find injured small animals and try to nurse them back to health. Though her mother disapproved as young ladies should not mingle with bloody smelly things, Ione's father had a big heart for injured animals and would always help her tend to them. "God's creation..." he use to tell her, and used his wisdom to teach her what to do...though she still deemed her father as the best animal healer. Ione's dark eyes looked up from the injured bird, to see Tristan untucking his shirt after he had gotten the items he needed. As she watched him cut into the bottom of his shirt, and ripping it to make a good sized strip, Ione made a mental note to make him a new one. Knights, so far as she knew, did not make that much money, and she'd do this for Tristan. Ione stepped closer to the table where he lay the freshly torn strip of cloth, then had gone off, returning with two sticks that'd do well for splints. The young woman adjusted her arms so that the hawk could be taken from her, a weak sound issuing from it's beak as the knight talked to it while taking it from Ione. It was hard to believe that a man of battle could be so gentle....even so gentle as to work on such a delicate thing as a bird's wing. The trust that passed between man and bird...the way he placed and tied the splints in place. For once, Ione could just stand and watch. When Tristan was done mending the bird's wing, he had caught her there still watching him work. Ione had to make sure that the bird was going to make it. They cannot fend for themselves if they are injured, pet. They would starve and die... Her father use to say. Ione missed her parents, but mostly her father...
"I am glad to hear it," Ione said softly so as not to scare the hawk. She thought of Mirtha. Was he still angry at her? And did she dare go back to the shop right now? Placing her cloak about her shoulders, Ione looked at Tristan. "I-I should be going back to the shop..." Ione went to the door way. She still had not eaten much, but perhaps she had some scones at the shop. "Is there anything else I can do?" |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 17 2010, 01:54 AM Post #89 |
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Author: sabor ice Date: Thu Aug 14, 2008 1:36 am Ash
Ash was not asking for Juna to assume the role of a mother for Eala, nor even a primary caretaker, and he would not expect it of her. Eala was old enough now to look after herself. She had witnessed battle and experienced more hardships than any normal child might see throughout their entire lifetime. She had never really been a child to begin with. War was all Ash had ever known, and it was the same for Eala. She was just as much a Woad and warrior as he was, and the last thing she needed was protection. Juna assured Eala would never be over-looked or forgotten, and that was all he needed to know. In the failing light of eve, Ash could see the blonde of Eala's hair as she scrambled to hurriedly carry out Juna's task. Her frantic movements and gestures toward another Woad - whom she appeared to be attempting to gain attention from - convinced Ash that he needn't worry about her future. She was too headstrong to give up on anything, too stubborn to give in, and far too persistent to be forgotten. He silently wondered if her excitement now came from feeling useful, or simply from being afraid for him. Inside the fort, his quest had become personal. Somewhere along the way, their indifferent bond had made the transition to inexplicable attachment. Ash didn't know why he cared, aside from apparently needing to be needed. For him, emotion had always been irrelevant. He had nothing to offer the girl and vise-versa. Things had been much less complicated when she was still just a toe-rag in his eyes. Perhaps if he lived, he'd consider going back to ignoring her again.
Oh yes, Mona... The Woad breathed out a quiet, mirthless laugh. How suddenly (and conveniently) insanity had rocked her boat. Had it not been only a few hours past since he spoke with her behind Hadrian's Wall? Interesting she'd so abruptly go from being alert, focused, and coherent to a bumbling lunatic, as soon as she had been branded a traitor. Ash didn't take much stock in coincidence. A quiet hiss escaped his lips when Juna pulled the poultice away to inspect whether or not the infection had drawn back with the light Eala had provided for her. Ash didn't hear Merlin's rant, as Juna had begun to sew up his wound. The corners of his eyes were pinched as he gazed up through the trees, trying to stay relaxed through the painful ordeal. It was a dull ache now thanks to the medication the healer had earlier administered unto him, but the experience was still far from pleasant. "Am I the only one of my rescue party who hasn't lost their mind?" he muttered rhetorically. Guinevere had acted foolishly and cost several warriors their lives, Mona had allegedly cracked up, and Connell apparently had run away. Honestly, what was happening to the Woads around here? Ash reached out a hand and briefly caught Juna's wrist as she finished stitching. "If they insist on carrying her home, kindly ask for it to be done far from me. I think I've suffered enough for one day," the Woad added - a small wry smile touching his pale features - although he was completely serious. The last thing he could muster was the strength to survive listening to the traitor's psycho babble bullshit all the way to the village. Let his enemy come and hack him limb for limb - the agony would've been tolerable in comparison. If it had been up to him, Ash would've left the bitch for the wolves. It was unfortunate that the Romans had taken only Neeria and not the blonde as well. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 17 2010, 01:56 AM Post #90 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Thu Aug 14, 2008 9:24 am Linnette
“Oh!” Linnette’s eyes widened further as she took the second, smaller book from Drake and balanced it on top of the first. He had two books? Half a library in those heavy, awkward saddlebags she’d watched him drag around most of the day! Fascinated, she opened the cover of the smaller book and scanned the first page inside- it was written in a plain, neat, hand, and largely unornamented, but she could see snatches of the story as she skimmed and recognize dialogue, and what were no doubt funny situations, as Drake said. She gave a small, thoughtful, half-smile, her mouth twisting to the side slightly as she gazed down at the book. She would never have claimed to be in the mood for comedy- but maybe it would be a good diversion, too. A woman masquerading as a man? It sounded like it could be quite amusing. She looked back up at Drake and met his eyes, both books cradled in her arms. He looked a bit hesitant, as if he was not sure if she would be interested, and she smiled to reassure him, more broadly than she had yet since Gedeon’s death, she thought. She loved to read, and she got to see new books so seldom…and Linnesse would like them, too! Holding both books like this was like holding a treasure- figuratively and literally. They were so valuable! On that thought, she belatedly shifted their weight, holding just the little one against her chest with her bad left hand, while holding the larger one out for Drake to take back with her good one- since he had said he wanted her to borrow the little one first. “Thank you- I’ll take very, very good care of it,” she assured him fervently, before shaking her head almost in disbelief. It was hard to credit, the amount of good he had done her today. “It’s so generous of you,” she added in a smaller voice, her eyes dropping to the cover of the small book. How could she ever repay even a fraction of that generosity? She didn’t think the tavern had enough good food to even begin to cover it, and what else was there for her to do? Tristan
"Mm-mm." Tristan shook his head with a negative grunt and stroked the hawk's head and back again as he started to make his way out of the tack room and towards the main stable doors. Tirgatao was settled, the hawk's bandage was taken care of, and now it just remained to get her something to eat. And himself, too. It was only as he approached the stable's big double doors that he really remembered that Ione was still beside him- and that she had done him a service by finding and bringing him the hawk. "Thanks," he added perfunctorily, turning to her with the corner of his mouth turning up in just a bare hint of a smile. He held the stable door long enough for her to pass through- and then he was off, crossing the courtyard and following the path towards the village, rather than the tavern. A couple of moments later, he was knocking on the door of Bors and Vanora's hut- where the sounds of childish voices inside revealed that the household was home, and still awake. |
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