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| September 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Apr 22 2010, 01:55 PM (2,539 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | Apr 30 2010, 09:09 PM Post #151 |
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Author: Lancelot Date: Thu Sep 25, 2008 3:47 pm Lancelot When Arthur's eyes narrowed and then opened wide, Lancelot cursed again silently and lowered the hand that had betrayed him as it rubbed at the soreness that was his swollen lid. He began to shake his head, but Arthur's fingers on his chin arrested that motion.
Shit, shit shit! Damn and blast to Arthur's Hell that fucking child Galahad and his problems! Damn Lancelot's ignoble reasons for wanting to get involved! Damn Gawain for giving him the notion that he as First Knight should want to care for Galahad's well being! And damn Arthur as well for driving him to this! Catherine's pretty, innocent face filled his mind, and her statement that had made him stop and think echoed 'round and 'round Lancelot's aching head. The statement that had forced him from the warmth of a simple whore's bed - a place Lancelot had desired to be - in order to placate himself and his emotions by drowning them in someone else's scent. He jerked his head out of Arthur's grasp. Lie like the bastard you are, knight. "I - no one hit me." No lie. Just gaps in the timeline - and Galahad didn't hit me. Technically, he elbowed me. Techincally, I'm not lying to him. He crossed his arms over his chilled body and sighed. "Your report, commander - Dagonet is healing well, although it will be some time before he is horse ready. Saorise is with him, and trust me when I say no one will cross her path without getting bitten. Bors' leg is injured, but not enough that he can't get up out of the infirmary bed and high tail it to the tavern, I'm certain. Gawain is also getting back to normal," he gritted his teeth, his mind's eye flashing angrily on the blond's refusal to believe he wasn't more than the snotty ass that some of the men thought him to be, "and Galahad...." He stopped. He shook his head at last. "His stomach wound is being helped by the nuns and that little Woad girl, the dark haired one. Fiona? I'm sure he's a great fool for trusting her, but by the gods, how is that anything new?" He spat and made a dark sound; his throat had closed in his anger and he slid his good eye shut for a moment. When he opened it, his mask was fully in place - although he had to grip his fingers together to stop the trembling. He bit his lip as he stared at Arthur. "You didn't answer my question. How is your own wound? I'd hate to think my wonderous help was for naught." He tried desperately to steer the conversation away from his eye. Perhaps Arthur would be fully distracted by his report - and perhaps the Optio would kiss Lancelot on the lips and apologize for being a bastard. Yes. He allowed himself a bit of respite - and reached out one hand, and touched Arthur's forehead. "No fever," he whispered. "That is...good." |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 30 2010, 09:18 PM Post #152 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Thu Sep 25, 2008 7:54 pm Linnette
“No one told you?” Linnette looked up at Vanora curiously, her spoon still in the dish of porridge, her elbows propped on the counter. She had thought she had told the tavern-keeper of her findings…but that had been during all the confusion with the sickness and the Woads and the saints knew what else. That had been before she was a widow, when all her hopes had pinned on Gedeon coming back. It seemed like a lifetime ago. “It was Adian, the carpenter- he confessed to it while he was sick with the fever. Linnesse told me.” Right before she had fallen ill herself. Linnette dropped her eyes and poked at the porridge again, then scooped up another bite. Yes, her appetite did seem to be more or less normal today- a very good thing. She didn’t want to deprive her child- all she had left of her fallen man. “Odd he felt it had to be such a secret, don’t you think?” Linnette cocked her head musingly as she spoke, fixing her eyes thoughtfully on the far wall of the tavern. She did genuinely wonder that- though she was also taking up this topic of conversation as an alternative to more personal ones. Linnesse
“Hmmm.” Linnesse gave Derfel an assessing, “healer” look as she came into their bedroom, her lips pressed together as she scanned him over. The sharp, acid smell of his vomit came clearly to her nostrils from the chamberpot, but she very professionally repressed any automatic reaction and crossed to the dresser to pour some water instead- thank goodness one of them had thought to bring some in yesterday. Maybe that had been Linnette, now that she thought of it, and she made a mental note to thank her sister for that next she saw her. In the meantime, though, she readied a cup of water for Derfel, handed that too him, throwing in a few solicitous pats of the blankets into place for good measure, and then addressed herself to cleaning up the mess- which, at least, was confined. “You must feel a bit better, after that,” she remarked with a little ironic half-smile as she bent to pick up chamberpot in one hand, water pitcher in the other, and carried them to the window. Her nose did wrinkle a little now, but only, she hoped, where Derfel couldn’t see it. A healer, she remembered Mother Lavinia saying to her, had to take these things in stride. It wasn’t pretty- but it was needed, useful work, and it was, she had found, something she could do well. “I agree some more rest would be best.” Checking to make sure she wasn’t flinging it on anyone, she chucked the contents of the chamberpot out into the gutter that ran alongside the street, and washed it on its way with a good quantity of water, then rinsed the pot itself. There- nothing left of it at all. She ducked back inside, closing the shutter behind her, and set the pot back alongside the bed, where it would be accessible should Derfel need it again- though in her professional opinion, he probably wouldn’t. He wasn’t ill, really, and once what was bothering him had come up, he’d be all right. Thank God. “I should go to the infirmary, see if I’m needed- but I’ll come check on you again soon.” Linnesse bent over Derfel, laying a hand over his forehead and pressing a kiss to his cheek. No- no fever. Just some more rest and he’d be fine. “Sleep well, love,” she concluded, blowing him another little kiss from the doorway- and then putting on her cloak as she left the apartment. The infirmary was its usual self when she entered- soldiers recovering from wounds, a few people still sleeping off the last effects of the fever. Two of the nuns in the main room greeted her cheerfully as she entered, glad to see her up and about and well; she assured them that she was feeling much better, and they in turn told her to take it easy today, not to be on her feet too long just in case. Linnesse assured them that she wouldn’t work too hard, and was turning from them to head for the storeroom and hang up her cloak when she paused, her eyes narrowed a bit at the sight of one of the infirmary’s occupants. Well, not occupant, really. Visitor, more like…but visiting why? It was Drake Octavius, the trainer and Linnette’s perpetual shadow nowadays, except now he wasn’t with Linnette- he was over by the bed where Cassidy and Fleur, the two motherless girls, rested. What was he doing here, anyway? What did he want? Linnesse took some comfort in knowing that if Drake was here, he wasn’t with Linnette, inveigling himself into her good graces for unknown purposes, but his attention to two unrelated young girls seemed scarcely more wholesome to Linnesse. Frowning, she skirted around him, walking down the other aisle with a row of beds in between her and the soldier- but she kept glancing at him, suspiciously sidelong, nonetheless. What she really wanted to do was to go up to him and ask him what in the world he thought he was doing, both with the two girls and with her sister- but just the memory of his angry look of last night was enough to nearly turn her knees to water. She was pretty sure she didn’t have the courage to actually approach him- but she would keep an eye on this nonetheless, and alert Mother Lavinia or one of the other healers if there was anything untoward. Drake Octavius bore careful watching, in Linnesse’s considered opinion. She did not linger in the storeroom, only paused there just long enough to hang up her cloak, and then returned to the main room, intending to keep Drake in her sights as she went about whatever else needed to be done- but something else caught her eye. The door to one of the small private rooms at the back of the infirmary was partially open, and though Linnesse had not really been looking inside, but chance she glanced that way and recognized the occupant of the bed as…Ione. Ione? She had been sad, but physically fine when she had left Linnesse’s quarters last night! Worriedly, Linnesse paused in the doorway, her hand on the frame as she leaned around it, looking inside the room. It really was Ione lying there on the bed, her face drawn and pained and exhausted, and at the foot of the bed, one of the nuns appeared to be remonstrating with a man- Linnesse recognized him as Mirtha, the stable manager- trying to get him to leave. She had a hold of Mirtha’s arm, like she was trying to pull him towards the doorway. “Ione? What happened?” Linnesse addressed her question equally to Ione and to the nun, wondering if perhaps Mirtha was part of the problem. What business did men have bothering women in the infirmary, anyway? |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 30 2010, 09:20 PM Post #153 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Thu Sep 25, 2008 10:58 pm Ione Having said her piece to the stable master, and told him what was happening, the nun hoped that he'd have the good graces to leave as there was really nothing anyone could do for the woman except if he was a healer which he wasn't, but that Ione seemed to be searching for comfort the way her hand grasped his. As the nun studied Mirtha's eyes waiting for what she had said to register, she turned as she heard someone stop by the door. The nun looked from Ione to Mirtha, then to Linnesse who was standing in the doorway. It had been a long night for the weaver and herself, and now all the nun prayed for was for her God to have His way in this matter and to give whoever tended to her and the child wisdom and understanding. Ione's dark eyes moved over to the doorway when Linnesse had appeared, and the weaver was grateful to have the blond healer here with her as well as the nun. Ione stretched out her left hand toward Linnesse while the other went back to rubbing her stomach. She was feeling drowsy again, but she spoke to Linnesse softly while the nun watched from where she stood next to Mirtha.
'There were terrible pains...started last night when I got...to the shop...tried to make it here...and fell in the courtyard,' Ione's breath caught as a sharp pain shot across her side. When it cleared, she continued. 'Titrus and Quintus...they brought me here.' Her face screwed up in agony and tears, 'I..am losing..my child...gods, Linnesse...please help...' In truth, Ione had had cramps before, but nothing like this. She felt as though someone was stabbing her. The baby had not moved in a while. Her pleading eyes looked at those gathered in the room.... The nun moved over to where Linnesse stood, and said softly and aside, 'She has had severe labor pains since last night. Only this morning they have been closer. Ione is exhausted and stressed out.' The nun looked over at the young woman who was moving as if trying to rid herself of the pain she was obviously in. Turning then to Mirtha, the nun asked, 'So do ye plan to stay or are you leaving? if you are here for support, then you may sit off to the side...' She looked at Linnesse and shrugged not knowing why he was here in the first place except that he was probably a friend of Ione's... |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 30 2010, 09:20 PM Post #154 |
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Author: Kay Date: Fri Sep 26, 2008 2:06 am Guinevere Even as she ran across to her father, Guinevere saw Mona being pinned down and subdued by two of Merlin's men. The crazed woman screamed out a string of threats.
Guinevere glanced at her father. "Are you unharmed, Father?" she asked, seeing no blood on Merlin's person. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 30 2010, 09:22 PM Post #155 |
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Author: Darya Date: Fri Sep 26, 2008 9:24 am Neeve and Darya Fiona seemed to be honestly surprised by the news of there being another Woad imprisoned…and it apparently had knocked her for a loop. Neeve sighed. “Just…remember to stay low for now”, the healer repeated and then walked off. She glanced towards the skies…and figured that it was way too late to see Darya, thus the Briton put this on her to-do-list for the next day and headed directly for her room to get at least some sleep… However, it was not a good sleep that she got…and it was too short anyway. But the events of the evening and the night of the day before had kept her mind quite busy, especially since Neeve did not know if or when Arthur planned to ride out and she just had to see him in time. She would be a lousy healer if she would not voice her concerns and doubts about his plan. Of course with mostly his health in mind. Not to mention the matter of Neeria, who had tried to kill the Commander and was yet still alive. Something the raven-haired woman could not really comprehend… But first things first… The healer dragged herself out of her bed and granted herself a quick wash at the wash-basin before changing clothes. Not that people would notice that since her clothes pretty much all looked more or less the same. But Neeve could not care less. She liked her dark, tight, simple clothes…they were practical and yet somewhat accentuating her female curves. Though the latter was not really important to her, which was probably still a reminder of her childhood when she had always wanted to be a boy. Anyway, Neeve soon left her quarters again and walked into the direction of Darya’s room…remembering the other woman’s directions as she did so… Darya had not slept too well. Lots of things were keeping her mind busy and as so long as the Woad issues weren’t solved, the Sarmatian was pretty sure it would not get better. She had woken up at first dawn and wondered what the day would bring. She wanted to take a bath soon…but not that early. The dark-haired had left her bed and moved over towards the broad window-sill, pouring herself a mug of water as she did so. Then the woman settled down on the window-sill and glanced out of the window…watching the sun rise slowly. But after a while a knock at the door interrupted the silence in her room… “Come…”, Darya said and turned her head to see who would enter the room. When Neeve came in, the Sarmatian was briefly disappointed, but remembered Arthur’s ‘order’ to the healer. Well, the raven-haired was listening it seemed… “Good morning”, Neeve greeted the other woman and gave her a nod even though the healer was wondering why Darya was not in bed, “…how are you feeling today?” “Morning…”, the Sarmatian replied and watched the healer approach her slowly until the Briton could lean casually against the wall by the window…just opposite herself, “…I’m alright, thanks…” Neeve nodded pensively, not surprised by the rather reserved reaction. Darya had not appeared too happy about Arthur’s assignment to her. “That’s…good…”, the healer murmured and watched the other woman closely. “You are not really pleased about me checking on you regularly f or a while now, are you?” Darya arched an eyebrow at the healer. “No…well, yes and no…”, the Sarmatian admitted and grimaced slightly. “Why don’t we take a walk, get some fresh morning air…and talk about it?”, Neeve offered…and was a bit surprised when – after a rather long moment of silence and hesitation – the other woman indeed moved and got off of the window-sill. “I wanted to go to the bath-house anyway…”, Darya commented dryly and a corner of her mouth twitched slightly as she pulled her cloak about her body and indicated for Neeve to follow her… Soon the two women strolled slowly down the corridors of the building that held the knights' rooms…and then out into the courtyard… It took Darya a bit…but then she started to confide at least a bit into the healer by her side…and so the two women exchanged their ideas of how they could approach the Sarmatian’s new 'condition' in the next months… |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 30 2010, 09:23 PM Post #156 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Fri Sep 26, 2008 10:40 am Vanora
Vanora turned from putting the tankard on the shelf, and saw Linnette's glance of curiosity. With a frown, Vanora wiped down a mug she had picked up. ''Perhaps someone did...So many things have happened of late that it is hard to keep up on the news and such." What with the sudden woad attack, Thorn's death, having to break the news to Adian that Thorn had died in his absence (though she had always wondered where he had been instead of being here at the fort)...She had wondered what else could possibly happen. Well, with all of that, it had been no wonder that maybe that piece of news had slipped a bit. Giving Linnette a warm smile and shrugging, Vanora continued, "Well, with all that has gone on here lately, I could have just forgotten. No like me, ya know. I always like to learn what is going on about the fort, and any little pieces of gossip." The answer she got back was a familiar one, and it could have been that someone had told her that same thing. How the mystery solved itself was even more interesting. Adian had been sick?
Vanora's eyes were still on the young woman, the frown returning, "You mean, he never disclosed why he wanted it to be a secret? It is rather odd, but then most, I have found, that do good deeds, do not want anyone else to know...sort of like he did not want to draw attention to himself or gain fame from the deed." The red head cocked her head to one side, the frown mixed now with a raised eyebrow. Her father had told her once that every man and woman had some secret to hide: some pleasant and some not so pleasant. "I wonder," Vanora began half to herself and half to Linnette. "Do you suppose he has run into trouble in the past, and it is because of that that he wishes not to be acknowledged?" A wench approached the counter ordering two ales, and Vanora nodded immediately taking two mugs from the shelf and filling them. Thank the gods Ione and Nessan had left the recipe for heather ale. Sure had been a saver during the shortage. The brew was popular though now that the supplies had come in, perhaps making some of the original recipe would be nice as well. She handed the mugs to the girl who took them and walked away to a far table. She gave Linnette a side glance and noticed that the young woman had a distant look in her eyes. "Coin for your thoughts, Linnette," Vanora smiled, though she could only guess what Linnette was thinking of. They had been friends for a while, and there was nothing like lending an ear if one needed to speak... |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 30 2010, 09:25 PM Post #157 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Fri Sep 26, 2008 11:23 am Arthur He allowed his hand to fall away from Lancelot when the knight jerked out of his grasp; he returned it to cradle the jug of wine at his thigh which had thankfully not fallen over. But the Commander’s determination to learn how his lieutenant had received a black eye would not be so easily brushed aside.
Arthur internally rolled his eyes, but industrially kept his focus on Lancelot’s injured eye. He had caught the slight hesitation in the other man’s voice and knew….without a doubt….that Lancelot was deliberately concealing the truth. And then the man had the audacity to change the subject. Arthur was a patient man though, particularly when it came to extracting information from one as stubborn as Lancelot….even when it had been painful to wait for the Sarmatian to speak his heart.
The Commander listened intently while his lieutenant gave the report on the knights. He lifted the jug and drank a fair swallow of wine to wet his throat and only arched his brow at the descriptive way Lancelot referred to Galahad. Arthur then placed the jug on the table at his bedside once Lancelot had completed his report. He sensed that Lancelot had censored himself about something within the report though….but before Arthur could prod his lieutenant further, Lancelot spoke again and changed the subject matter:
“It is improved,” Arthur said assertively, whether it was true or not. He had no intention of allowing the wound to impede him in his duty today at any rate. Arthur had given in to his physical weaknesses long enough. Neeve’s ministrations last night had seemed to go a long way in improving how Arthur felt this morning.
And now it was Arthur’s turn to pull away from Lancelot’s touch. He frowned and leaned back against the pillows again; not entirely sure how he should interpret Lancelot’s ‘concern’ over his well being right now. He needed to focus on more important matters than his accursed hope that Lancelot felt more…..move on, you fool. He does not and will never want what I offer. Arthur made a small discontented sound and twisted his mouth. He went on to rub thick fingers across his lips and chose to address the Optio and Lancelot’s supposed punishment first…then Arthur would move on to what he had planned for the day….and God help him, he still wished for Lancelot’s council on the very personal and confusing matter of Darya’s delicate condition. “You will give me the details on how you came about such an injury before the sun rises on this day,” Arthur said in a tone that would brook no argument from Lancelot. But he would give his lieutenant a short reprieve as he continued. “However, I have other matters that I wish to discuss with you,” He said evenly while meeting the gaze of Lancelot’s one good eye. “Lancelot, you may view Scipio as yet another arrogant officer sent from Rome to cause you only grief here,” Arthur began to address what he thought the easiest matter first. He brought a hand to rest on Lancelot’s leather-clad kneecap for emphasis. “I understand your mistrust….but I must urge you to refrain from lashing out at him. He will do things my way whilst here or he will suffer my wrath as his commanding officer. You, on the other hand, must let me manage him,” Arthur said with a firm squeeze at Lancelot’s knee before releasing a small sigh. He licked at his lips and thought on Lancelot’s punishment for a moment….and something came to Arthur that should fit the offense the knight had ‘supposedly’ directed at Scipio. “Perhaps I should turn you over my knee as retribution for your imprudent behaviour towards the new Optio yesterday,” Arthur commented without the slightest hint of amusement in his eyes as he finally dispensed with his decision on the matter. Of course Arthur had absolutely no intention of treating Lancelot thusly. But perhaps suggesting something so ridiculous would lighten the tension enough to allow Arthur to introduce what was truly troubling him. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 30 2010, 09:26 PM Post #158 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Fri Sep 26, 2008 1:26 pm Brendyn GOD above but it had been a long night...or so it seemed. To Brendyn, the two good things were that nothing eventful had happened like an attack, and now it was a new day despite the iffy weather. He and the others who had been on watch marched down the steps, and waited inspection as well as give a report of the night's happenings. After being dismissed, Brendyn walked toward the stables where he had promised himself he'd look in on Tyranus, his black horse. reaching up, he unfastened the strap under his helmet with one hand and lifted it off of his head, then tucked it under his arm, while the other hand still held his spear... The Briton was almost to his destination, when he was stopped by a messenger, 'Sir, a message for you.' The boy held out the notice and Brendyn took it, unfolded it, then scanned the contents. The squad room? He looked up from the note, and smiled politely but with a hint of tiredness. 'Thank you, lad,' Brendyn nodded dismissing the boy. Brendyn was hungry, but now all he had time for was to get into a fresh clean uniform, and wash up a bit. He hurried off to do those two things as he could not see standing in the presence of whoever had requested this meeting looking like a slob. This done, Brendyn grabbed his helmet and tucked it under his arm before hurrying off in the direction of the squad room, Brendyn headed off toward the place indicated in the message wondering what all of this was about. He pulled the clean cloak about his trim body to keep out the cold as he approached the squad room. When he arrived at his destination, Brendyn opened the door and stepped inside.... |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 30 2010, 09:27 PM Post #159 |
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Author: Lancelot Date: Fri Sep 26, 2008 4:33 pm Lancelot Lancelot settled his hand back in his lap. It was good that Arthur had no fever, however - that didn't necessarily mean the other man's wound was on the mend. He'd have to check it out for himself when Arthur got dressed - and if Neeve hadn't shown up, he'd go round her up himself.
Ah, thank Mithras. Lancelot would have more time to concoct a better story than I got elbowed by an idiot baby knight. How's your morning been? He cocked his head and gestured with a hand grandly, waiting for the Roman to go on.
Lancelot's good eye followed Arthur's hand on his knee; the touch was distracting and felt strange. But good - and Lancelot cursed inwardly and tried to fold his leg so it wouldn't be so close in Arthur's range. But the other man seemed oblivious and kept meeting Lancelot's gaze intently as he spoke...and Lancelot soon welcomed the touch that seemed as natural as the smiles that had slowly been coming between them again. "He's not just an arrogant officer, Arthur," Lancelot spat, and then, clearing his throat, sighed. "I haven't heard much, but I judge by the way Scipio rode in last night like all the hounds of the underworld were chasing him - I gather it did not go so well? This from someone who considers himself the 'official' Rome-sanctioned Optio?" He shook his head, and glanced to the window. Dawn was still hovering just below the horizon - and he was already exhausted again. Maybe, just maybe, he'd get a bath in today. That would be lovely - and then he could turn his attention to Galahad and a little chat they might be having later. And then Arthur added to his comments - and Lancelot's mouth dropped open, becoming gradually wider and more surprised.
The Sarmatian's good eye seemed to be popping out of his face as he stared at Arthur after the Roman had finished speaking. Lancelot felt Arthur's hand - the thick digits still gripping at Lancelot's leg, the heat from the commander's touch almost burning through Lancelot's ridiculously old and too big leathers like a brand had fallen there. His face heated as if it wanted to match the redness that had to be showing on his knee. "You - what?" He managed to shut his mouth - gods forbid Lancelot should appear befuddled or confused. He ignored the flaming feel of his face and, sliding one of his free hands under Arthur's fingers, he pried the other man's hand off his knee and set it back on Arthur's own leg. He lingered - too long, touching the strong hand that had gripped at him so many times in anger and in passion - but forced himself to let go. He pursed his lips and twisted the corner of his mouth up wryly. "Arthur. Come come. I think corporal punishment of the sexual kind went out with Caligula. Or is my Roman history wrong?" Keep it light. Don't let him see the thoughts - I think you are afraid. But not of me. His eye narrowed, and he barked a short laugh. "If that is your true desire, then so be it. But wouldn't that seem a bit strange in public?" He smiled broadly, the gesture looking fake in his bruised face. He blew out a breath, and stared at the Roman. "What must we do about this?" And is that all you wanted to tell me? He folded his lean legs over onto the bed, and sat cross-legged, facing Arthur. All joking aside, Lancelot knew - he fucking knew! - the damned Optio would want retribution. Well - gods forbid Lancelot deny him a show. Gods forbid Arthur not have what his official second wanted. And yet - look at his eyes. What does he really want from me? |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 30 2010, 09:29 PM Post #160 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Fri Sep 26, 2008 8:51 pm Linnesse
“Oh, no!” Linnesse caught her breath and bit at her lower lip worriedly. Losing the child? Already, so soon after she had broken the news? Giving the stable master another wary, suspicious look, Linnesse stepped inside the doorway and went to Ione’s bedside, where she crouched down, bringing her more to Ione’s level, and reached for the other woman’s hand. “Is there anything I can do?” she looked back up at the nun, who was re-engaged in her confrontation, if that was what it was, with Mirtha. Well, medical considerations took precedence over whatever reasons he had for being here- so Linnesse didn’t have any qualms about interrupting and asking for instructions. The nun didn’t appear to have any problem giving them, either. “I’ve got some tea brewing for her in the storeroom- the brazier closest to the door. You can go check on it and pour her a cup. Well?” The woman turned back to Mirtha on that last word and lifted her chin belligerently, as if daring the man to defy her instructions, as Linnesse squeezed Ione’s hand and eased herself to her feet again, starting to move away from the bed to go get the tea. Linnette
“Hmmm…maybe.” Linnette fell silent as a woman came to the counter and ordered two ales, and Vanora served her. The other woman’s explanation for Adian’s secrecy was as good as any, she supposed- just a general disinclination to be noticed, perhaps because of some past trouble. It might explain it. Certainly nothing else did. Linnette scooped up more porridge as the woman took her ales and left the counter, and the silence between Linnette and Vanora stretched a little.
“What?” Linnette raised her head, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, taken a bit off guard by the question after the silence. She had to replay Vanora’s voice in her head before she really got the sense of it- and then her gaze dropped again, her slightly confused expression melting into a rueful half smile. “I think you can guess what I’m thinking about,” she answered in a low, matter-of-fact, but still sad voice. Gedeon, of course- always Gedeon. Just now she had been remembering once again how, when he had been sitting and eating, and she had been working, he had always pulled her into his lap and told her to sit down for a while. Sometimes she had sat, sometimes she hadn’t at that moment- but she had usually ended up there at the end of the evening, perched comfortably on his knee while the tavern emptied and the time approached when they would both go home to their own room. That, too, seemed like ages ago. Linnette sighed, sticking her spoon into her porridge and leaning both elbows on the counter now, gazing across at the opposite wall without really seeing. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 30 2010, 09:30 PM Post #161 |
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Author: sabor ice Date: Sat Sep 27, 2008 1:22 am Cassidy & Fleur Cassidy waited patiently, her slender digits all laced up by strings, for Fleur to manage the next move in their intricate game of cat's cradle. The little one understood the game's concept - to an extent - but the moment the design got too complicated, she seemed to lose interest and stop trying. The older sister gave a subtle wiggle of her right middle finger to hint to Fleur which crossed lines she needed to pinch first in order to continue the pattern. "I know!" Fleur would croon cheerfully, as if she had discovered these things on her own. Cassidy would just shake her head, her lips forming a tight line to stop herself from smiling knowingly. If allowing her sister some leverage when it came to fair game play encouraged the little sprite to concentrate and learn something from the experience, she was happy to oblige. Fleur gasped aloud and Cassidy's blue gaze snapped toward her sister's face, her brow frowning. Fleur hadn't been hurt or disappointed - on the contrary - the little girl's face was positively ecstatic. Before she could crane her neck to glance over her shoulder and see what had caught Fleur's eye, the younger girl bounded with the reflexes of a feline from where she sat on the bed, nearly bowling over Cassidy in the process as she scrambled to get her feet on the floor. The two became instantly entangled with the strings from their game; Fleur got caught up and fumbled off of the bed head first with a painful-sounding thud as she hit the flagstones below. Cassidy managed to gather up the string into a messy ball and toss it onto the nightstand, glancing down at her sister in concern then. For some reason she had expected Fleur to burst into tears, but the younger sister seemed to be on a mission and no bump or bruise was set to stop her as she barely muttered an 'ow' and darted off again. Cassidy frowned and arched a fine brow as she twisted her lower body around and situated herself more appropriately at the edge of the mattress, folding her hands in her lap as she watched Fleur collide with another body. She clung to the man's leg like her life depended on it and peered up at him with a beaming smile. Oh, wonderful, the troll had returned again like the plague, Cassidy thought to herself. Drake possessed that single grave expression as he always did, and she was beginning to wonder if he was ever happy, or if this expression was his happy face. Fleur didn't seem to notice, or care. For some reason unbeknownst to Cassidy, her sister was utterly and completely infatuated with the man. The way Fleur acted around him, it was as if she believed him to be the hero of one of her many stories, but Cassidy remained wary and unconvinced. What if Drake wasn't the hero, but the villain? "Drake! You're back!" Fleur squealed excitedly. "I miss you. Did ya miss me an' Sissy? We been good! Me 'specially. I got to help 'vinia count stuff; she's a nice lady, I dunno why people don' like her. An' see my new dress? An' Sissy got one, too! Mine is green, see, an' Sissy's is puple. We got 'em from this other nice lady who tells stories! An' last night 'afore' we went asleep, Gabe telled us we can see his horse today. He's comin' soon, I'm sure he is 'cause he promised, y'know..." |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 30 2010, 09:32 PM Post #162 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Sun Sep 28, 2008 9:58 am Arthur The dark shadows that were ever present in Lancelot’s angular expression were not enough to hide the flush of anger? that instantly stained at the Sarmatian’s typically pale cheeks the moment the Commander had dispensed the terms of his so called punishment. So Arthur had roused the other man’s full attention at least. But it was not the reaction he had hoped for; fully expecting an arrogant laugh and a sarcastic quip for the ridiculous form of ‘punishment’.
“You heard me,” Arthur answered in a low tone. The Roman’s gaze did not shift from Lancelot’s face even though he felt the Sarmatian’s fingers grasp his hand where it still lay on Lancelot’s knee. Arthur allowed Lancelot his way as the knight shifted his hand away from his kneecap. The simple and lingering touch of their joined hands felt…..perhaps acceptance passed between them. Strength certainly had and Arthur knew that he needed more of that bond the moment Lancelot’s fingers released his. And then came the ‘Lancelot’ that Arthur had expected….the knight’s steely mask was once again in place, much like the one the Roman wore as well. The two men were a perfect match in that sense too.
What I desire….as if…. A slow smile formed across Arthur’s dry lips as he continued to watch Lancelot’s body language; any tension between them had seemingly been swept away by the interjection of the dark humor of the moment. Arthur’s shoulders relaxed and he bent his left leg at the knee to subconsciously scratch at a random place along the inseam of his linen trousers.
“We will do nothing in regards to your punishment as you are about to give me your sworn oath that you will not show aggression towards a superior officer again,” Arthur stated as a matter of fact. “At least none that you can be held accountable for,” He added with a small yet quick grin. “I owe Scipio no explanation of your punishment other than it is done,” Arthur’s gaze flickered from Lancelot’s good eye to the swollen one, but gave no further thought to it for the moment. He rubbed at his thigh as the muscle there seemed to ache this morning. Probably nothing to do whatsoever with only having rode from battle a few days ago. Arthur was not quite the young spry soldier he once was and certainly should make more time for the practice arena once he’d taken care of the most pressing matters at hand. “Scipio failed to negotiate a new peace treaty with Merlin. He made a mistake that I now must reconcile if we are to have any reprieve from the Woads’ attacks,” Arthur paused to release a yawn and scrub a hand over his stubbly face. He needed a shave and then to dress and get on with the day. But first things first. Liquid green eyes softened for Lancelot before delivering the Commander’s plan; knowing the First Knight was likely to argue. And then there was Darya……Arthur needed both Lancelot’s council and help now more than ever. “I will go to Merlin myself. Today. And we shall have an end to these attacks,” Arthur said firmly. “I will leave you in command while the Optio attends me. And that brings me to something else that I must ask of you, my friend,” Arthur’s voice dipped into that lower tone he only used for those very personal moments between them. The fingers of both hands flexed in the soft linen material of his trousers and Arthur sighed. Darya was pregnant with his child and he was about to ask his closest companion and former ‘lover’ for help in managing the matter…especially in Arthur’s absence…or in the event that he should not return. What a mess Arthur had made of his private life…..one that he had no right to have. His servitude to God and to Rome should be the Commander’s only focus. He was born to lead and born to fight for a cause worth so much more than his own selfish heart. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 30 2010, 09:33 PM Post #163 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Sun Sep 28, 2008 10:31 am Vanora
Vanora contemplated all of this, as she continued to wipe down the dishes. Finally, after a pause, she said, "Well, he is the most mysterious soul I have ever seen at his fort. Keeps to himself a lot, except where Thorn was concerned...never really talked of his life much. Ione seemed to be sweet on him for a while." As was her habit, she looked about for situations that she considered news, such as gossip if it was true. Could very well have been that the man in question had run into some sort of trouble before he came to the fort, and had just felt it nothing to talk about. Maybe later, if Adian showed, Vanora would talk to him a bit and get to know him like she did all of the rest of the customers. It always helped to know who your cutomers were. "Last time I saw him, broke the news to him about Thorn. Took it very hard indeed, even having left his date at the table..." She cut the conversation short. Enough about Adian as she figured everything would come to light eventually. Her attention turned back to Linnette who was, thankfully, eating something which was more than she had seen her do the day before...
Vanora sighed suddenly regretting that she had said such a thing. What else would a newly widowed young woman be thinking of? Setting the mug on the counter, and the towel next to it, Vanora placed both hands on the table and looked down at the surface before looking up at Linnette. Shaking her head, the red-head spoke softly, apologetically, "Aye, I can, Linnette." And she left it at that for there really was no reason to push the subject further. Vanora had already told her that she'd try to help her out in anyway possible. If the roles had been revered, and Bors had died, Vanora was positive that Linnette would do the same for her. It had to be hard to eat at a place where so many memories had developed, and still lingered. Leaving the converation at her reply, Vanora pointed her chin briefly a Tristan who was still sitting quietly at the table tending to his hawk. Raising her eyebrow in question, she asked, "Do you know what happened to the hawk?" There was a slight frown on her face, partly because it probably pained Tristan to have his most prized possession injured, but also to the fact that she had not seen Ione since the woad attack. Vanora knew the weaver had returned to the fort, and rumor had it that Javier, the Southerner, had not returned with her. There was something not right about the young woman as she had not come by since returning to eat much of anything except the bowl of soup the night before....or so a wench had informed her.... Woad attacks! Everything and everyone seemed so scattered and sorted in the aftermath and it just left too many questions as to how her cusomers were, how Arthur and the rest of the knights were, and such.... |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 30 2010, 09:36 PM Post #164 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Sun Sep 28, 2008 11:49 am Linnette and Tristan
Linnette looked up from her porridge again, her eyes settling this time on Tristan, still sitting by himself in his corner of the relatively quiet tavern, solicitously feeding his bird little, chopped up bits of meat. The scout seemed to realize he was being watched and glanced up at the two women, a touch of suspicion coloring his expression; Linnette flashed him a nervous half-smile and looked away. His relative friendliness of the other morning notwithstanding, he made her uneasy sometimes- well, actually, most of the time. So she didn't want him to think she was staring- for all she knew, he might take offense. "No." Linnette shook her head and once more returned to scooping her porridge, scraping the last couple of bites out of the bowl before she looked up again. The honey was particularly delicious to her today- but there was more than that on her mind. "The child won't even know what he looked like," she exclaimed in sudden, throat-choked frustration, pushing her empty bowl and spoon away from her across the counter. That got right to the heart of the matter- the question that had been obsessing her quietly, unvoiced, ever since she had heard the terrible news. How did one raise a child without a father? How did one grow up, never knowing a father? Gedeon had at least had a few childish memories of Dagonet's face, impressions at least- but her child would not have even that. Not even that. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 30 2010, 09:39 PM Post #165 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Sun Sep 28, 2008 1:35 pm Eala Eala didn't intend to be a nuisance. She didn't give any conscious thought or make any extra effort to be a pest - it just came naturally to her. She was as bothersome and cumbersome as a ten year old could be - except she had a certain streak of vengeance in her that no other ten year old in Britain ever had surely. All had fallen about her young shoulders and this left her with little to hold or cling to in an uncertain, torn existence. It was no existence for a ten year old... to know the hurts and pains, both mental and physical, that her life had thrown at her. And yet as she sat before Ash she looked entirely bereft of such worries and afflictions. It wasn't that she felt no sadness or loss - it was simply a knowledge that the only way to survive what she had been through was to smile on all that smile. When Ash made to stand, Eala tried to help him. He began walking towards something but the little blonde was unaware of any stir as she watched his face for any signs of discomfort. She initially thought he had to piss - but his walking led them towards Merlin's tent and a gathering. Only when Eala realised there were more than herself and a handful of others awake at such an early hour did she think to look beyond the backs of those in front of her and see what was to be seen. Ash's arm was out in front of her preventing her initial reaction - which was to spring forward and defend Merlin. As if he needed her to defend him ... but Eala had watched too many people close to her suffer and then die for her to remain imassive as someone she thought highly of, someone she considered family of sorts, was harmed. Her hiss was vicious and her little hands gripped Ash's restraining arm tightly. Black eyes glared daggers at Mona - and one of her hands slipped down to her waist where she didn't have her belt of little knives any longer. Eala looked down abruptly at her waist as that dawned on her and then scoffed irritably, turning her black eyed glare at Mona. Ducking beneath Ash's arm was harder than it should have been given his weakened state but she managed it and darted forward just as Mona was pressed to the gruond. The blonde stood in the space between the watching woads and their leader with his attacker being restrained. Pitch dark eyes looked from Merlin to Mona and realising the situation to be sorted she slinked back to Ash, standing in front of him, bumping her back against his front as she folded her arms across her chest, defiantly aligning herself with him and in whatever his opinion on the matter might be. Saoirse It was like a bubble popping. The atmosphere had been rather tense a moment before, their heartbeats in unison, the anticaption of the next moment and when Saoirse spoke it seemed to burst the atmosphere, allowing all the little things in life to flood into their little space and the red head knew it. She sighed, resigned to not being able to share anything longer than that moemnt with her lover until he was back in his own bed, in his own space and under her watchful eye. What more could be done amongst all these ill people? Things were happening all around them but still they were sheltered - secluded in their own little world.
When he first told her that it hurts, Saoirse let her eyes slide shut. She was beginning to wonder if he would ever not be in pain. It seemed since she had come back to him that they had spent an awful lot of time in infirmaries with his injuries and she longed, desired and needed him to be well again - for her own sanity as much as his. She knew that he hated being in this helpless state -- but she also knew that Rome was not a kind mistress. She knew that Rome would call on her servant Dagonet too soon again and that Dagonet would be helpless but to obey. And what if next time he wasn't so lucky? What if next time he didn't come back... like Gedeon? The Irishwoman's morose thread of thought was sent scattered to the breeze when Dagonet said he wanted to get up out of the bed today. And all her worrying over him taking the right time to get better, letting those capable to look after him and to hopefully ensure as full a recover as possible before he had to go out again and – Her mouth gaped open and she sat up nex to the knight, looking down at him with a spark of incredulous anger in her blue eyes - a kindling of her old self as she was about to rip into him for even suggesting it. But he quickly tacked on the big about just stretching his legs. Pretty blue eyes narrowed and her lips became pursed as she stared at Dagonet, trying to see beneath the innocent face he put forward. She gave a soft harumph and nodded her head warily. "Well s'long as it's just t'stretch yer legs an' not an attempt t'make a getaway..." she grudgingly agreed. With that decision made the red head turned from Dagonet and threw her legs over the side of teh bed wary of the injury that marked her hip to thigh. It wasn't really all that painful today. Raking a hand back through her hair, Saoirse hopped down onto her feet and turned back to the Sarmatian, rubbing a hand back over the top of his head tenderly. "I'm gonna go get us some breakfast fer now - somethin' decent an' not the gruel ye get given in here. When I come back we'll sit ye up an' then maybe take a stroll t'the baths if yer up to it? Might as well make somethin' useful of yer leg stretchin' if yer so intent on it..." Drake Drake wasn't used to many things in life. Happiness, for one. Oh there were times in his life he was content - but to class that feeling he had now and again as 'happiness' would be a joke- and not a funny one either. The Spaniard was not used to lying in in the morning. He was not used to long conversations, at least not ones where he was expected to talk. Right now he was not used to giving a damn what other people thought about him - and yet as he made his way down towards the two girls and Linnesse entered not far behind him, Drake became very, very aware of his movements and acutely conscious of how he was being perceived. It wasn't that he aimed for her approval - he would just rather not have her disapproval. And for no other reason than to make life easier for Linnette. Easier for Linnette would have been Drake just taking his nose out of her business altogether but ... but he didn't want to. He didn't want to lie awake at night wondering if she were ok, if someone had threatened or insulted her or ... whatever might befall a woman in a place like Badon Hill. Nor was he used to being greeted the way Fleur greeted him. The Spaniard stopped dead in his tracks as the little one came flying down the corridor and collided with his leg, holding on with all her might as she started to babble.. about ... well, he wasn't entirely paying attention at first, but he soon realised she would expect his input. Drake was looking down at her with wide eyes and he quickly looked around him, seeing what Linnesse's reaction was a moment before looking at other people. Some were grinning, some were too much in pain to notice -- and Cassidy,... well she looked unimpressed as ever.
The names and deeds all slid in one of Drake's ears and out the other. He reached down to put a hand to Fleur's back, intending on continuing onwards to the bed as she spoke but she was like a limpet about his leg. Sighing, Drake gripped her two upper arms and effortlessly lifted her up into his arms and carried her to the bed. He stood her on the side of it and placed his hands on his hips, looking at her squarely as she told him about a lady and dresses and someone named 'Gabe'. He let her babble a bit longer and finally lifted a finger to request her to hush. That subtle request didn't work so he physically placed his finger against her lips and raised his eyebrows at her. Odd that both he and Cassidy were thinking the same thing, wondering if he were good or bad for them... With her quiet, Drake suddenly raelised he had nothing to say to fill the silence. He shifted his feet awkwardly and frowned towards Cassidy in thought - looking back to Fleur who was pratically brimming with more stuff to tell him. The Spaniard was always so reluctant to ask people anything, even to ask if they were well, but it seemed there was little option in these circumstances so he took a deep breath and looked squarely at Cassidy. "Who is Gabe?" he wondered of the woman who gifted the dresses to them but wasn't too suspicous of that. From what he had encountered of women in all his life he had yet to find one who would not take pity on orphan girls like CAssidy and Fleur. And without thinking about how ridiculous it was, Drake looked over his shoulder to make sure Linnesse wasn't still watching him. Ridiculous! |
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