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September 2008
Topic Started: Apr 22 2010, 01:55 PM (2,537 Views)
golden_trillium

Admin
Author: golden_trillium
Date: Sun Sep 28, 2008 7:17 pm
Merlin


Mona
 
”May you burn in hottest pits of hell!! I'll kill you!
I'll kill all of you!!”


Guinevere
 
"Are you unharmed, Father?"


“Yes,” Merlin answered Guinevere with a tight affirmative nod,
his eyes never leaving the traitorous Mona. The madwoman
continued to spit and rant and rave as the other warriors
restrained her, pinning her to the ground, and as Merlin
walked forward, kicking aside the rumpled furs that he and
Juna had so recently been ensconced in, sleeping peacefully,
he was rapidly deciding what to do with Mona- and by the time
he had reached her, he had made up his mind, and not in her
favor. Had they been in the village, with plenty of time and
no enemy at their backs, they might have been able to chance
locking her up for a while and seeing if that revealed the
truth behind her “madness”- but as it was, they could not
leave her alive. She had attacked his daughter, she had
attacked him, she might or might not have had a hand in
Neeria’s current fate…mad or not, she was a traitor and a
danger. He advanced on her- spotting out the corner of his eye
Eala scurrying away and going to stand protectively at Ash’s
side- and stopped only inches from Mona’s prone form, looking
down at her with his arms crossed severely over his chest.

“You have disobeyed our laws, Mona,” he began in a quiet
voice, seeming eerily calm for a man who had just had an
attack made on his life- but this was one of those times when
he was completely open to the will of the Gods, hollow and
empty, channeling only their will through his words. They did
their will through him, and it was inexorable.

“It is you who have brought such disfavor on us, you who have
caused the capture of Neeria and the deaths of my other
warriors. You have struck out at my daughter, and at me, who
are the Gods’ chosen. You must die.” Around the circle of
tense, wary onlookers, there was a rumbling murmur of
agreement, and some unsheathed knives, or if they already held
them, eased them into positions more convenient for stabbing.
If Merlin had said so, it must be true- Mona had brought bad
luck on them. It certainly explained a lot. And it meant that
getting rid of her was the solution, the way back to order and
peace.

“May the Messenger speed your journey,” Merlin intoned,
reaching down to his belt for his own knife, his movements
slow and deliberate. He would do this deed himself, cut off
with his own hands this rotten branch that had infected the
tree of his people.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: lady ione
Date: Sun Sep 28, 2008 8:41 pm
Vanora


Vanora was curious about the hawk, but decided again that if
Tristan wanted her to know what happened, he'd tell her. For
now, she decided it best to go back to her work, as well as
talking to Linnette. Brown eyes looked down at her guest who
had taken the last few bites of her food, and had pushed the
bowl toward her. Vanora took it and placed it in the wash bin
while she listened to Linnette. She was always willing to
listen. Most of the time, it was to gain news that she could
talk about amongst the people that drifted in and out, but
there were other things, personal things like what was on her
friend's mind, that she'd never spread around.

Things like this were meant to be kept between themselves.
That was the sign of a good friendship.

She just hoped that whatever advice she needed to give, Vanora
would give it from her heart. No, she could not claim to know
what Linnette was feeling, but she and Bors had lost dear
friends...well that probably was not the same as losing
someone one was married to, but it was a loss none the
less....

Linnette
 
"The child won't even know what he looked like,"


Vanora's heart went out to her. At least if Bors died, the
children, except for the twins, were old enough to recall
their brave father. But how would one ever explain to a child
that had never seen his or her father what they were like, the
brave deeds they had done...the golden memories, sweet as a
Spring rain over the moors? The older woman moved to sit next
to Linnette, and made ready to speak. She just hoped that the
few things she had to say would bring comfort.

"Linnette, I know memories are not the same as actually having
Gedeon here, the Gods know nothing can replace that, but that
is where memories come in to play," Vanora gave a slight
smile. "I know this might sound a bit odd, but you know how to
write. Perhaps you could start a small book, and jot down
every thing you can recall of Gedeon." Looking down at the
table top and playing with a small crumb absently, she thought
a bit more, then spoke further. "After you have recalled your
memories, then ask others what they recall of his deeds and
his life. When the child grows up, you can give it to him or
her explaining that this was their father...."

It had been a great idea, but what if that idea brought
nothing but pain and more questions? Well, it was certainly
better than telling the child his or her father had run off to
fight in battles, or with another woman like most of the
widows she knew had done in the past. It was certainly not the
best way to leave a child with good memories. Vanora knew what
agreat thinker and writer Linnette was, and was sure that the
woman could paint a very loving and brave picture of the
father the child would never know.

Paint? "Linnette, do you know of any artists who are good?
Romans are suppose to be pretty good. Perhaps if you got an
artist to paint or draw a picture of Gedeon as you describe
him to the artist...maybe in the front of the book..."

Okay, she had only meant to say a few words, not give a
lecture, but she had caught herself babbling again, but softly
and just between them. She wondered if Linnette would actually
go for it. Writing, Vanora had heard, was a good way of
getting things off of one's chest...

Vanora just decided to be quiet now and just let the poor
woman talk, and in order to do so, she bent her elbow and
rested it on the table top, then made a fist and pretended
that she was resting her chin on it...
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: golden_trillium
Date: Mon Sep 29, 2008 6:17 am
Linnette


Vanora
 
"Linnette, I know memories are not the same as actually
having Gedeon here, the Gods know nothing can replace
that, but that is where memories come into play. I know
this might sound a bit odd, but you know how to write.
Perhaps you could start a small book, and jot down
everything you can recall of Gedeon. After you have
recalled your memories, then ask others what they recall
of his deeds and his life. When the child grows up, you
can give it to him or her explaining that this was their
father...."


"Hmmm." Linnette turned her back to the counter and leaned on
it, crossing her arms in front of her, her eyes lowered and
her jaw tense as she thought about that. Write? On the
surface, it seemed odd- books were supposed to be about grand,
important subjects, weren't they? Written by far-off,
important, or well-traveled people? She was not an author!
Then, the thought of the small book Drake had lent her flashed
into her mind, and she recalled him saying that it took place
in the town where he had grown up. Had someone ordinary
written that, to immortalize a place of memories for them? It
seemed like a preposterous idea...writers were supposed to be
great, high-minded men, were they not?....but then again,
maybe just possible. Her mind wandered into fantasy
momentarily, imagining herself sitting at her father's great
desk in the Villa, bent over a book and neatly penning her
life story, childhood to her trip to the fort to her marriage-
and she gave a small snort of a laugh, tipping back her head
and raising her eyes ruefully to the ceiling. Silly idea. She
could write- she could form letters and words that made sense-
but how could she write? A whole book? And was it worth it,
just for one child to read someday? Vanora was speaking again,
and Linnette lowered her gaze to look at the other woman,
curious despite her skepticism as to what she might have to
say next.

Vanora
 
"Linnette, do you know of any artists who are good?
Romans are suppose to be pretty good. Perhaps if you got
an artist to paint or draw a picture of Gedeon as you
describe him to the artist...maybe in the front of the
book..."


"Artists? I wish I did." Linnette gave a bitter half laugh
again at that. Sure, there were artists in the great cities,
men who could paint wonderful pictures on the walls of great
houses, and sculpt marble to look like living forms- but here?
At Badon? There was no one even remotely like that! Still,
Vanora's words had started an ache inside Linnette that even
now nagged at her, more insistent that any talk of books. To
have a picture of Gedeon- something that she could show the
child, something that she herself could look at, as the years
passed and her memories- as all memories did- inevitably grew
fuzzy around the edges...a sudden feeling of panic siezed
Linnette, and she stood up suddenly straighter, her eyes
widening as she looked sharply at Vanora. It would be years
and years and years without him...and she would not always be
able to remember him as clearly as she did now...

"You...you don't know anyone who can draw, do you? I mean, I
don't, and..." she broke off, hints of frustrated tears
stinging her eyes. It was so hopeless- and yet so necessary!
There was no way to get a picture of a man who was dead and
lost, and yet, she needed one! She needed one!
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Unicorn
Date: Mon Sep 29, 2008 1:42 pm
Dagonet


Dagonet longed to be alone with her in his rooms. Longed for
this to be over... and being once more healthy. He longed to
be ready to do whatever he had to. He longed to be able to
stand up on his own. But he was here... helplessly laying
here. Nothing to do... Nothing he could do.

He missed his sparings... he missed the small freedom they had
around... to walk... to be somewhere he would like to be. not
like this! He missed to be alone... to think... to weap after
Gedeon... He could not mourn him properly. He could not show
tears to everybody around. He just could not...

The tall knight saw the flash of anger in Saoirse's face and
in her movements. Awaited for that anger to fill her entirely
and burst out on him. He saw her looking at him in her
eximining look... He knew that she was assesing if he was
laying or not. In truth.. everybody who knew him a little bit
only, knew that he could not lie... that he was not capable to
say something against him. And he was not talking about
stretching his legs only to convince her, but it was truth.
How long could he stay in bed!? He was tired of it!

Saoirse
 
"Well s'long as it's just t'stretch yer legs an' not an
attempt t'make a getaway..."


Dagonet looked away for a second and sighed deeply. Gateway...
oh, how much he would like to just run away from this horrible
place? But he knew all to good, that he could not. He was not
healed fully... But he wanted to just leave the place for some
time only. Just to be out of here for a while.

Saoirse stood up from the bed and Dagonet wondered if she was
in any pain from that leg injury. He hoped not... A worried
frown crossed his face for a second, before she turned around
to look in his eyes once more. A tender touch on his head made
him close his eyes tiredly for a brief moment, then looked
into her eyes.

Saoirse
 
"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..."


And with that the big Sarmatian smiled slightly.

"Great... I would like that very much, love"

The perspective of going anywhere made him feel excited in
truth. He had to leave this room, before he will choke with
the air in here.

"I think I'll try to get some sleep before you return." he
cleared his throat and once more a little frown appeared on
his brow, as he closed his eyes slowly. "Had a real rough
night... Wake me up when you come back." He oppened one eye
and looked at her. "With food only, I feel hungry" he smiled
at her and allowed his head to lol to the side...









Mirtha

Mirtha saw that Ione was not feeling good. That she was in
fact really weak and... not in the mood for visitors. But he
was worried and could not help this feeling.

Ione
 
'I...It is..my child....something is..wrong...'


A deep frown appeared on his face. Child? What was wrong? And
suddenly a cold sweat pour over him. Was it something because
of his doings? Was it because he had used her body some time
ago? Was it possible? A smile dropped from his face and he
shook his head slowly... embarrassed. Was he reasponsible for
this?

He was not able to ask any further question or tell her that
he was sorry. Ione's hand reached for his and he squeezed it
briefly in suport. Only briefly because a nun took him by the
arm and held him like he was some kind of a bad guy... caught
in action. He frowned at her, surprised and a bit irritated by
her doing.

Nun
 
'Her contractions are a bit close....the two Romans
brought her in last night saying they had found her
lying in the courtyard close to here... Ione is losing
her child....'


Losing her child?

It came with such a shock that Mirtha oppened his mouth in
disbielieve and could not say a word... And another guilty
wave passed over him. He had left her alone in the shop... He
had not searched for her earlier. and if he was there with
her, maybe, just maybe she would be here faster and something
more could be done to her.

Linnesse
 
"Ione? What happened?”


He had not seen her entering the room. He looked surprised at
Linesse and a frown deepened, there was confusion and worry
writen on his face.

Ione
 
'There were terrible pains...started last night when I
got...to the shop...tried to make it here...and fell in
the courtyard, Titrus and Quintus...they brought me
here.I..am losing..my child...gods, Linnesse...please
help...'


Mirtha gaze dropped from Linesse to the floor as Ione spoke.
Pain evident in her voice.

Nun
 
'She has had severe labor pains since last night. Only
this morning they have been closer. Ione is exhausted
and stressed out.'


Stressed out? Was it his fault again? He made her angry... He
made her leave her own house. Mirtha was now angry at himself.

And would probably storm out of the room in the matter of
seconds to look for another bottle, just to stop feeling
guilty. But he stood in place like paralized.

Linnesse
 
“Oh, no! Is there anything I can do?”


Nun
 
'So do ye plan to stay or are you leaving? if you are here for support, then you may sit off to the side...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 both woman asked him about what was he going to do. And in
matter of fact he did not know. He frowned even more and
scratched his chin. Then he walked to Ione's side, just beside
Linnesse and looked down at Ione first then at Linnesse.

"I'll stay..." he said and took slowly Ione's hand from
Linnesse. "I'm not leaving anywhere" he announced looking at
Linness then back at the noon.

He was not sure. But he could only stay and support Ione in
this moment. Guilt rushing trough his vains. He swallowed hard
and just stood, squeezing lightly Ione's hand.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Lancelot
Date: Mon Sep 29, 2008 7:19 pm
Lancelot


The first knight could not help but crack a smile as Arthur
did the same - corporal punishment of the sexual kind. He
shook his head and rolled his eyes - eye - at himself as
Arthur folded his knee and continued to watch Lancelot
intently as he decided to go ahead and mentioned the damnable
Optio. Better for Lancelot to say it first - he knew it was
coming, despite Arthur's friendly manner and the fact that he
was cracking jokes this early in the morning.

A brief thought flitted like a tiny winged insect across
Lancelot's mind - pain, possession, the wood of the table had
to have bitten hard into Arthur's back - the leather strap
stiff and unyielding to the desire Arthur must have felt -
Lancelot had been in control at that point, and he knew no
other way.

He blinked into the watery grey light at Arthur's window, and
shoved that memory to the little cage where he kept it -
unable and unwilling to let it go - the vision of Arthur's
face, twisted in passion as he'd at last been able to achieve
his release mixed with the look in his eyes as he'd forced
Lancelot out of his quarters.

A whore indeed. A whore for anything and everything he could
get from the other man - and Lancelot bit his lip in anger and
regret and desperately pushed that idea away. He wasn't ready
to examine that just yet. He wasn't ready to admit to it
either, truth be told. That kind of thought required a lot
more sleep then he'd gotten - and yes, a fucking bath.

Arthur
 
“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. At
least none that you can be held accountable for. I owe
Scipio no explanation of your punishment other than it
is done,”


Lancelot's brows rose high on his forehead. Pursing his mouth,
he folded his legs more comfortably and leaned forward without
realizing it. It was as if they were having the most serious
of meetings - and yet they were ensconced upon Arthur's bed,
of all places.

Somehow, appropriate.

"Are you sure that is wise, Arthur? He has eyes and ears
everywhere," Lancelot started. Aside from the fact that I knew
I'd have to atone for my actions when it happened. What's
gotten into him?

And by the gods, but is he treating me with deference?

Arthur
 
“I will go to Merlin myself. Today. And we shall have an
end to these attacks. 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,”


And again, what?

"Castus."

Lancelot's voice began as loose and flowing, liquid in its
intensity as usual. But the more he spoke, the tighter and
more painful it became to speak his truth.

"You are leaving me here, and you're riding out with the Optio
who caused this problem in first place? Injured? With one
day's rest since we arrived back at this place?"

His body stiffened and his 'mask' dropped away. Only this man
could make that happen - and that made Lancelot angrier.
"You're leaving me here?" he repeated. "I am your - oh, for
the god's own sake," he spat out. "Do you truly mean to tell
me you trust that arrogant snake more than you do me? Someone
you've known for years and who's fought at your side during
countless battles...."

Except for the last one.

Lancelot sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He thought
back over what Arthur had just said - the casualness of his
words, the tone of his voice.

He seemed to be alright with leaving Lancelot behind.

So be it. That might actually give Lancelot a chance to do
some of the damn thinking he apparently needed to do. And
perhaps a chance to speak with Catherine again - and to ask
her to explain herself and her comments.

And then he could tear up Galahad - and then he could walk
away from this place, and disappear like so much smoke. And
then be taken for the deserter he would be.

The idea of having his control over his own life being taken
away from him was actually peaceful in this moment - to be
given no chance, no say - to be told when he would die -
Lancelot's good eye closed briefly, and he dreamed a quick
moment when his life wouldn't be filled with pain or
indecision or hurt anymore. But that would mean no Arthur -

"What else do you wish of me?" he spoke quietly and without
rancor. Lancelot's gaze shifted from their folded, seemingly
comfortable legs on the bed, to Arthur's familiar and
confouding face. He hoped to see compassion there - or at
least understanding. It was all he could bring himself to cope
with at the moment.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: golden_trillium
Date: Mon Sep 29, 2008 8:28 pm
Linnesse


Mirtha
 
"I'll stay...I'm not leaving anywhere."


Well- so be it. Linnesse still didn’t understand what he had
to do with all this, but his confrontational attitude had
lessened, Sister Margaret seemed content to let him stay as
long as he didn’t interfere, and Linnesse’s priority now was
to follow the nun’s instructions and go get that tea. With a
last anxious glance at Ione, her pale face making a
frightening contrast with her dark hair, Linnesse left the
private room and retraced her steps back to the storeroom,
where she made a beeline for the brazier Sister Margaret had
described. The tea was steeped to a dark, brownish color, and
looked ready, so Linnesse poured a cup and set it on a tray,
along with a glass of water and a small bottle of honey, in
case it was all right to sweeten it, and stepped back out into
the main room, carefully balancing the laden tray.

Drake was still out there. Despite her haste to bring Ione her
medicine, Linnesse couldn’t help but throw a sharp glance in
the direction of the trainer, who was now standing next to
Cassidy and Fleur’s bed, apparently talking to the younger of
the two girls, who was standing on the bed itself and thus
about eye to eye with the much taller man. Fleur looked
enthusiastic, babbling away about something, but Cassidy,
sitting on the opposite end of the bed from the other two,
didn’t look nearly so contented- and Linnesse made another
mental note to go back to them have a word with Drake as soon
as she got a free moment. Well…at least try. Maybe she could
just set Mother Lavinia on him instead. It seemed safer- but
she couldn’t just leave him to bother those poor girls for no
reason.

Ione first, though. Linnesse turned in a swirl of blue skirt
and continued on into Ione’s room, where she set the tray down
on the bedside table, and after a quick confirming glance at
Sister Margaret, held the mug up for Ione to drink from.

“This is…” she broke off, realizing she didn’t know, and
looked again to the nun, who was now busy at the foot of the
bed, propping a pillow up under Ione’s feet so that they were
a bit elevated. She stepped back, pulling the blanket neatly
back into place.

“Black haw,” the nun supplied crisply. “It should help stop
the contractions.” If it isn’t too late. Linnesse felt as
though she could clearly hear the nun’s unspoken caveat,
falling into the empty space between them like a hammer blow.
The other woman’s lips were pressed into a thin, tense line.
Linnesse had never had a miscarrying patient before, but she
had been told before, during her training- there was usually
nothing one could do about it. There were a few things that
could be tried, but usually, if it was to happen, it happened.
It seemed to be sometimes the will of God.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: lady ione
Date: Mon Sep 29, 2008 9:24 pm
Ione


Ione kept her hand reached out while the nun had explained
what was happening in further detail to Mirtha and Linnesse.
This was the time she needed friends, and she had two of them
here. Titrus and Quintus had been there for her the night
before, and she was grateful to them as well...

Linnesse
 
“Oh, no!” “Is there anything I can do?”


Ione could hear the compassion and concern in the healer's
voice. Tears ran from Ione's eyes which she had closed, then
opened again, slowly, to see that the healer was crouched next
to her bed holding her hand. Ione took it , but prayed that no
contractions would come lest she break the delicate hand by
accident. While the nun was still conversing with Mirtha, Ione
looked at Linnesse and had mouthed a 'thank you' for being
close. It had been a long night filled with sorrows and
heartache.. the realization that a true friend had died
(Accolan), and the overwhelming fear that Javier would not
return for her, plus the sorrow she felt at knowing Linnette
had lost her husband. Ione could not recall having met Gedeon,
but if Linnette had married him, he must have been a good man.

The nun, having finished her course with the stable master,
seemed to answer Linnesse's question....

nun
 
“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?”


...Despite the severe pain, Ione had a slight humorous vision
of Mirtha knocking the daylights out of the nun for she had
seen his temper. Thankfully, the nun knew when enough was
enough and turned her back on Mirtha and moved over to the bed
to continue to tend to the patient while Linnesse had given
Ione's hand a firm squeeze as she stood making ready to fetch
the tea. Ione hoped that it tasted better than what the nun
had been giving her....right now, even a strong ale or wine
would have tasted good (and Ione rarely drank). Just as
Linnesse had left go of her hand, Ione felt a stabbing pain on
the right side of her stomach, and then a slight movement of
the doomed baby. Why could someone just stop the pain and save
her child? Her mouth went open in a silent scream as her back
arched, then set back down on the mattress as the pain
subsided leaving her gasping for air, 'oh....gods...it
hurts....' Her slender long fingers digging into the blankets
turning her knuckles white. Opening her eyes, Ione looked over
at Mirtha who was walking toward her bedside coming to stand
by Linnesse who had not left yet....

Mirtha
 
"I'll stay..." "I'm not leaving anywhere"


Ione thought she saw Linnesse leave the room to get the tea,
and just lie there exhausted and beyond tired and in the
company of Mirtha and the nun. Ione thought for a moment that
she had seen Javier next to her bedside, holding her hand as
he had so long ago, or so it seemed, but then the sort of
dream had vanished...

...it was moment's later when Linnesse had returned with the
tea, holding it up to the weaver's lips for her to drink...

nun
 
“This is…” “Black haw,” “It should help stop the
contractions.”


Ione was ready to try anything, anything to save the child she
was sure was Javier's, and reached out with a free hand to
take the tea while the other hand was held by Mirtha who had
shot a glimpse of defiance shot in the nun's direction. Sister
Margaret helped Ione to sit up a bit, and the distressed woman
took a small sip of the hot brew then pushed the mug away,
allowing the nun to gently lie her back on the bed, "thank you
for the tea..." Ione looked from Linnesse to Sister Maragert
then Mirtha, holding the hope that this tea would do what the
nun said it would. For a moment, it seemed that the pains had
gone away, but then Ione felt an agonizing pain and she left
out what sounded like a sob mixed with a scream '....AHHH....'
The young face screwed up in agony while, having forgotten
that she was holding Mirtha's hand, squeezed the hand turning
her knuckles white, her back arched, eyes closed with tears
freely streaming down her sweat ridden face. Ione felt her
sweating body begin to strain, wanting to push the pain from
it, her grasp becoming harder. Between her legs, Ione could
feel the accumulation of a sort of sticky wet substance
(blood). Seeing what was happening, the nun fled to the door,
and urgently called in for another nun to bring towels, fresh
water and herbs and whatever else was needed and also to
assisst she and Linnesse, discretely closed the door for
privacy, then turned back toward the bedside already stripping
back the blanket. Ione was gasping for air, her heart racing
from stress of the contractions...

The contraction passed, and it left Ione feeling as though she
had no more strength to push or handle any more contractions.
Opening her red swollen eyes, she looked at Mirtha hoping that
she had not broken his hand during the contraction. Ione knew
it'd only be a short time now, before another sharp
contraction hit. She hoped only that the man would understand
her next action as she withdrew her hand from his and held on
to the blanket waiting for the next urge to push....
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: golden_trillium
Date: Tue Sep 30, 2008 7:00 am

Linnesse


Ione
 
"Thank you for the tea...AHHH...."


Linnesse's eyes widened- though she tried not to show too much
alarm- and she moved in protectively closer to the bed as Ione
suddenly cried out in pain, arched her back, and squeezed
Mirtha's hand hard. Sister Margaret, her lips pressing even
thinner, if that were possible, moved towards the foot of the
bed again and flipped the blanket back, revealing a crimson
stain of blood on the white sheet, which actually grew as
Linnesse watched. Linnesse's heart was in her mouth, her
stomach sick with the realizaton that this must be it- the
child lost. Nothing more they could do. Sister Margaret
bustled for a moment, calling out to someone else for some
water and towels, and a bare moment later they arrived;
Linnesse took them at the door, shut it behind her, and passed
the towels over to Sister Margaret, who began
matter-of-factly, but sympathetically, to place them
underneath Ione to soak up the blood. She glanced up at Ione's
face, and her eyes settled with what looked like concern on
Ione's hand, gripping the blanket tightly.

"She has to try to relax...deep breaths," Sister Margaret
instructed, catching Linnesse's eye and taking an illustrative
deep breath, in and out, her hand hovering over her own chest,
before returning to her towel-placing.

"And some more of that tea," the nun indicated the mug, and
Linnesse hastily brought it up to Ione's lips again, but over
Ione's head, Linnesse could see the nun shake her head grimly,
a small movement, but unmistakable. Linnesse got the message
clearly, and it was as she had suspected. They could try, they
could comfort Ione, but in all probabilty, this pregnancy was
over.

"Here, Ione- take a little more," Linnesse urged Ione in a
small voice, reaching around under her shoulders to prop her
up so she could drink again. She had to sit on the edge of the
bed to do it, and lean over a bit awkwardly, but it was all
right- though thinking about it, if Mirtha was going to sit
there, perhaps he could earn his keep.

"C...can you prop her up a little? Maybe?" she asked the
stablemaster across the bed, her voice hesitant and a little
wobbly. Linnesse was, in truth, still nervous talking to men
she didn't know- at least men who weren't her patients. She
felt vindicated, though, when Sister Margaret tossed a nod of
agreement in Mirtha's direction.

"Yes, help her, please," the nun instructed, taking a step
backwards to look at her handiwork with the towels. For the
first time, glancing down, Linnesse noticed that Ione's
stomach had a visible, firm curve to it- one even a bit more
pronounced that Linnette's as-yet-very-slight-one. But...Ione
had only been "betrothed" to Javier for- what, a couple of
months, at most? Surely she couldn't be farther along than
Linnette was! Linnesse blinked in momentary confusion, but
then set the matter aside. It looked like it woud scarcely
matter now.

"You can turn to your side, if that would be more comfortable,
Ione- we'll help," Sister Margaret suggested from near the
foot of the bed.
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golden_trillium

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Author: Elessars Girl
Date: Tue Sep 30, 2008 10:55 am

Arthur


As Arthur spoke of his decisions, the two men fell into old
habits sitting comfortably in each other’s company –
Lancelot’s posture open and at ease….and Arthur receptive and
caring as if nothing painful had ever transpired between them.
Until…..

Lancelot
 
"Castus…..You are leaving me here, and you're riding out
with the Optio who caused this problem in first place?
Injured? With one day's rest since we arrived back at
this place?"


“It is what I must do, Lancelot,” Arthur began to interject
with his reasoning, but Lancelot continued….and Arthur knew it
best to let the other man spout out all his antagonism before
countering or Lancelot would never hear a word of it. Arthur’s
back stiffened and he slightly elevated his chin in defense,
yet confidence still shown soundly in those green, green eyes
as he regarded Lancelot’s fiery single-eyed gaze. His injured
side was certainly still a considerable weakness, but Arthur
had a strong determination to do what he always had – give all
of himself to protect those in his charge; fulfill his duty as
the appointed Roman Commander of this remote outpost in the
far reaches of the Roman Empire. No small battle wound would
prevent him from his charge. Yet Arthur was
vulnerable….completely exposed to the man who now sat with him
on his bed. God would damn him for it, but Arthur could not
forget the power and intensity of the bond he and Lancelot had
always shared. His body still carried the scars of their
joining both mentally and physically….a shiver tripped down
Arthur’s spine as his mind flashed back on a particularly
vivid memory of a hard rain, wet leather and sharp teeth….he
bit at the insides of his mouth and forced the recollection
away…..never again; and always.

Lancelot
 
"You're leaving me here? I am your - oh, for the god's
own sake. Do you truly mean to tell me you trust that
arrogant snake more than you do me? Someone you've known
for years and who's fought at your side during countless
battles...."


Arthur slowly released his next breath; one hand smoothed
carefully over the roundness of his kneecap as the Roman
prepared his rebuttal. This was not about whom the Commander
trusted at his side….not at all. Had Lancelot forgotten their
most recent dealings with Merlin?

And there it was…the signal Arthur had so patiently waited
for…Lancelot’s good eye briefly slid shut and the other man
appeared to quiet himself. It was typical of their arguments –
Arthur standing silent yet firm while Lancelot vehemently tore
into everything the Roman had planned…at least over duty and
other ‘official’ matters.

Lancelot
 
"What else do you wish of me?"


What I wish for I can never have. I cannot give you your
freedom and I cannot be what you need.

“I will take Scipio so that he may learn how to negotiate with
men such as Merlin. I will also have Tristan and Bors
accompany us in our quest for peace,” Arthur began and without
hesitation despite the possible ramifications, his hand
returned to Lancelot’s bent knee. He also leaned closer to the
other man to emphasize his point. “I will not have you at my
side because I will not risk your life needlessly,” Arthur
continued even as the memories of how he had nearly lost
Lancelot to Merlin’s wrath twice in recent months flooded his
mind. His fingers flexed over the other man’s knee in support
of his words.

“Must I remind you of the condition I found you in the last
time you were a guest in Merlin’s camp? I need you here to
watch over…..I am leaving the one I trust in command. Do you
understand me?” Arthur asked pointedly and finally lifted his
hand from Lancelot’s knee while leaning back against the
pillows again. He had one other important request to make of
Lancelot before climbing out of this bed and preparing for his
ride today; one very discerning bit of news that Arthur truly
had no idea how Lancelot would react. Darya was pregnant….and
how am I to protect her? How can I ask this of Lancelot? Yet
he is the only person I can speak to about this…impossible
situation. Arthur was certain that Darya would turn to
Lancelot in the event that the Commander failed to return. And
Lancelot deserved to know. A hint of apprehension was no doubt
visible in Arthur’s otherwise stoic expression. His gaze
flickered to the flames in the hearth while both hands briefly
tugged at the pale linen shirt he had slept in until finally
settling in Arthur’s lap. He laced his fingers together and
licked at the corner of his mouth before offering his
confession.
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golden_trillium

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Author: Lancelot
Date: Tue Sep 30, 2008 6:02 pm
Lancelot


Lancelot's anger drained slowly away, his mood ever changing
like the water that fell constantly from the sky here in this
horrid land. Raining one moment, snowing the next. A bad omen,
his people would say. Perhaps a bad omen as well that Lancelot
could not hold onto his anger or his convictions when it came
to the Roman that sat across from him - casually, as if
nothing had been between them.

Nothing. Everything.

He sighed heavily and stared at Arthur's hand, which was once
again on his knee. Licking his lips, the first knight raised
his eyes and wished fervantly for the hundredth time he could
see Arthur with two good orbs. Galahad would have to make time
for a little chat later.

Arthur
 
“I will take Scipio so that he may learn how to
negotiate with men such as Merlin. I will also have
Tristan and Bors accompany us in our quest for peace. I
will not have you at my side because I will not risk
your life needlessly. Must I remind you of the condition
I found you in the last time you were a guest in
Merlin’s camp? I need you here to watch over…..I am
leaving the one I trust in command. Do you understand
me?”


Thank the gods that Arthur finally lifted his hand from
Lancelot's leg; the feeling of burning had come back, and the
Sarmatian had had to fight to not fling himself bodily from
the bed. He narrowed his eyes at Arthur's mention of what had
happened with the Dark Magician before. He flexed his long,
slender digits - one finger still crooked from where Ceinwyn
had broken them. He'd taken her, too. What a way he had with
relationships.

"Fuck Merlin," he spat, sudden vitriol coloring his speech. He
snorted and cocked the eyebrow over his wounded eye - it hurt
like a bastard, but Lancelot found he enjoyed - welcomed - the
sensation. It was a familiar one; one he used quite frequently
to remind himself just what his life was for. "He is no more
dangerous than Scipio is. That bird face could easily slide a
knife between your ribs before Tristan could even but sniff
his treachery. And Arthur," he added, his face taking on the
reflection of the light that was beginning to finally creep
fully through the window - although the glass was thick and
distored and threw his features into more shadow than
illumination. "Arthur. I went to Merlin willingly the last
time. I knew what I was getting into - this is different." He
shook his head, and cocked it, his neck sore already this
morning.

I am leaving the one I trust in command. Do you understand me?

"Any one of your lackeys could watch over this pisshole of a
fortress," he said, his tone sounding whiny even to his own
ears. He rubbed at his thighs and shrugged his tight
shoulders. "I am here to serve and follow you, as I failed to
do so recently." He made a face - a fleeting rush of sorrow
decorating and filling his eye - but he shrugged again. That
pain would never end for him. "I seem to have no say. Besides
- what is so important that you'd leave me here, in command of
your beloved Badon, rather than have to put up with my
company?"

He shook his head again - gods, how many times would he do
that? He arm suddenly throbbed, the hole the Woad archer had
put into it painful and sharp. He ran fingers over his tunic
covered bicep, feeling the bandage that hid the wound, and
canted his gaze to Arthur's face.

Something was obviously so important to the other man -
important enough to leave his most loyal soldier and ...
friend ... behind. Lancelot was suddenly more curious than
angry. They'd been getting back to their comfortable closeness
from - before, and he found himself trying to smile and
desperately clutching at anything that would keep that
burgeoning hope alive. He realized it might make him seem
crazy - mood swings were his specialty, though - and he knew
Arthur knew him.

Arthur knew him, and trusted him, and wouldn't think badly of
his fluctuating feelings. Maybe.

Lancelot raised a hand and touched the lion pendant he was
wearing under his tunic. "You have me intrigued," he said
quietly. "Truly - is there something behind this?"

Let go of the hurt - betrayal - and find out what's really
going on.
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golden_trillium

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Author: golden_trillium
Date: Tue Sep 30, 2008 6:05 pm
Quintus


"Centurion?"

Quintus turned from his work at the sound of the voice at his
door. He had been sitting on the edge of his bed, sideways to
the door, polishing his breastplate with a soft cloth. He
wasn't on duty at the moment- he had been for second watch
that night, then grabbed sleep for the third watch, and was up
now, seeing to his kit even though he wasn't required to be
anywhere. The young soldier's expectant eyes, though, told
Quintus even before the boy said anything more that something
was going on- perhaps not an emergency, but something. Quintus
could only hope it didn't involve any more escaped Woad
prisoners- that had been a right fucking mess yesterday.

"What is it?" Quintus asked, setting breastplate and cloth
aside and rising to his feet, taking a step towards the boy.
The lad pointed over his shoulder, behind him.

"Captain Barbattus wants you in the wardroom, sir. Soon as you
can."

"I'll be right there, Livius." The Centurion took a look back
at his breastplate, lying on the bed- but Livius hadn't said
anything about armor or kit, just soon. With a barely
perceptible shrug, Quintus shoved it a bit towards the middle
of his narrow bed and followed Livius out of the room, as he
was in simple pants, tunic, and boots, with his dagger at his
waist. He'd get the rest if he needed it- and what was this
all about, anyway?

Well, he would soon find out. Quintus crossed the street from
his century's barracks to the building that held the wardroom,
nodding greetings to the men he passed. Once he was inside the
room, however, his summoner, Captain Barbattus, was nowhere in
sight- the only other inhabitant of the room was the new man,
Brendyn, also looking like he was waiting for something-
expectant and a bit nervous.

"So how are you settling in, Brendyn? All right?" Quintus
leaned his back against the wall not too far from the soldier,
thick arms casually crossed in front of his body, and eyed
Brendyn with a bit of a smirk. He was asking a loaded
question, and he knew it- Brendyn, though only days into his
service at Badon, had already managed to land himself latrine
duties for unforgiveable rudeness to the head of the
infirmary, the formidable Mother Lavinia. He hadn't wasted any
time getting into trouble, that one- but Quintus was more
amused than angered by the situation. Punishment was deserved,
yes- but to hear the tale, Brendyn had gone off on the stern
nun without having any idea what position of authority she was
in- and Quintus, though he would never admit it, would have
given a lot to have seen that and have had a laugh at the
hapless soldier's expense.
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golden_trillium

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Author: lady ione
Date: Tue Sep 30, 2008 9:47 pm

Ione


The weaver could feel the nun pull back the blanket, and prop
her feet up, placing towels under her, and was aware of the
concern of those tending to her....and it gave her some
comfort to know they were there, but nothing seemed to prevent
the pain from growing and giving her body the urge to expel
whatever was causing it. Ione barred her teeth, and felt her
body strain and push again feeling a bit of what felt like
tearing a bit. Desperately, she grabbed the
blanket and balled it tighter in her fist as a new pain joined
the previous one. It caused Ione's body to strain more. The
last time she had been in this much pain, she had been
punished, and the only thought that had kept her fighting were
thoughts of Lancelot, her closet friend among the knights.
They had not always been, but it was not until they had talked
things out, that Ione realized how lucky she was just to have
him as a friend. Sweat ran down her straining body as she
barred down again. In her mind, and for comfort, she heard
Lancelot's words to her all over again. Words that had, and
still did, mean so much. She had not talked to the knight in a
long time, but Ione still felt a deep friendship had been
built in that conversation. A conversation that contained
advice she wished she would have taken to heart...The way he
had knelt in front of her looking into her eyes...You have my
attention and my admiration. Ione, you are a lovely woman…one
of the loveliest I have ever seen, and you are different, do
not doubt that...But never throw yourself cheaply at a man,
not even a knight. You are too good for that, Ione. Don't do
this as these men will hurt you. Why were you looking for a
night with me so eagerly, hm? What is so special about a night
that will give you nothing but tears and loneliness. You
deserve to live a happy life and find a good husband…more than
someone who warms your bed for a few hours. Tell me if I am
wrong.... Ione wished, now, that she had told him that he had
not been wrong, and that she should have taken his advice to
heart. Espescially where Javier had been concerned. He had
abandoned her after promising her all of the happiness in the
world.

Ione gasped for breath as another urge to push came upon her.
She fought and struggled against the urge, but it won out...

Sister Margaret
 
"She has to try to relax...deep breaths," "And some more
of that tea,"


Linnesse
 
"Here, Ione- take a little more," "C...can you prop her
up a little? Maybe?"


Ione was so uncomfortable right now, and, even though Linnesse
had propped her up a bit to have another drink, Ione reached
out and refused it. The young woman had no more strength left
to fight against the pushing and the pain that it
brought...but her body refused to let her take even a moment
of rest. Sister Maragret met Linnesse's gaze, then shot one to
Mirtha hoping the ale smelling man would do as Linnesse
requested. She, too had asked Mirtha to help them out by
propping her up a bit, then had looked down at what was taking
place. With all of the pushing Ione was doing, the nun watched
for one specific shape to emerge...one that she was not
looking forward to seeing. For a few moments there were no
contractions, and Ione lie on her back, her feet propped up a
bit, her chest showing signs of heavy breathing. Her long dark
auburn hair was wet with sweat and had plastered itself to her
face and clothes. The strain and stress began to show on
Ione's young face, and she opened her eyes looking at those
around her, then her eyes came to rest on Sister Margaret's as
the nun spoke...

Sister Maragret
 
"You can turn to your side, if that would be more
comfortable, Ione- we'll help,"


....Ione just lie there looking at the nun in a blank stare,
willing to comply if she knew it'd do any good. Slowly, she
began to roll over, but then stopped as a more defined pain
sent her rolling onto her back again. This time she pushed,
barring her teeth and using every availible source of strength
she had left, and then the pain was gone. Ione lie back on the
bed, trying to slow her breathing, her clothes wet with sweat.
Sister Margaret looked up after Ione's last contraction, and
shook her head slightly to Linnesse and Mirtha. Looking back
down again at the blood that had gathered under Ione, the nun
murmured a prayer to her God as she saw what looked like a
very small form lying in the midst of it. She had seen a lot
of wounds and blood in her time, and she had seen soldiers and
men fight for their lives countless times, but nothing hit her
so hard as seeing a still born child. Surely, Ione would want
a Christian burial as well as give it a name for the records.

The young weaver's body ached and there was no more strength
left in her entire being. The sharp, agonizing pains were
gone, but in it's place was an odd sense of loss. Her heart
raced and her breathing was still heavy. Slowly, her hands
released their grasp on the blanket, and Ione looked to the
three who had stuck by her, 'a boy...Ian....a girl....Anne...'
Ione had never felt so exhausted and achy...but there was
something else deeper: a sense of loss and something that lent
to the sadness she had felt before all of this began. Looking
at the nun at the foot of her bed, Ione murmured, 'want to see
my baby....hold it...' By the look on Sister Margret's face,
Ione knew the baby had not made it, but her motherly instincts
made her want to hold it close to her heart.

The nun looked from Linesse to the stable hand, then back to
the dead baby. Carefully picking it up, the Sister cleaned the
blood from it's small body with a soft towel, wrapped it up in
a clean dry baby blanket, and walked over to hand the baby to
it's mother, lying it in the crook of Ione's arm.

Tears and sobs broke from Ione with a mixture of feelings she
had never experienced. It was a boy. Ione ran her fingers
lightly over the delicately soft skin, looking at the strong
healthy body. "I want...to name...him Ian....after...my
father...'' She placed a soft kiss on the soft cheek, then
looked up at Linnesse, 'Had con..sidered...you and...Derfel as
Godparents....' She choked back a sob as she spoke. It was all
so overwhelmingly emotional to know that after this brief
moment in time, she'd never see baby Ian again. The thought
alone drew out a heart breaking cry, her arms protectivly
drawing the child closer to her as if to bring it back to
life. Ione cried as though her heart was breaking, burying her
face into the side of the blanket that held the last piece of
joy she'd ever know....









Brendyn

Brendyn walked about the room as though he had never been in
one, though he had. He was filled with anticipation, and was
eager to find out what the meeting was about. So far, his stay
had been nothing to write home about..especially the
punishment he had received while holding on to the belief that
he had been right. The whole thing still bothered him, the way
the nun had treated two prisoners as though they were
innocents...even offering them a room with two guards. The way
the chains had been removed from them...how the other guard
(Lucius) had left his prisoner pretty much free to approach
the other prisoner.....

Quintus
 
"So how are you settling in, Brendyn? All right?"


Brendyn turned seeing the Centurion leaning against the wall
not too far from where he stood. Brendyn saluted his superior,
and then dropped his hand to rest on his ex Commander's sword,
"I am setting in well enough. I am honored to be serving under
Commander Castus..." He held Quintus's gaze as if thinking of
how to place his first service that had landed him in Latrine
duty. Ignoring the other man's smirk, the young soldier held
his barring, ''Well, sir, I fear I did not do well in other's
eyes, though I feel I acted in the right."

God on High, but the whole thing bothered him! Even after he
had discovered their escape route, the episode in the
infirmary he was sure, had become an instant legend around the
Roman troupes. Brendyn wondered if Quintus would even want to
hear his side, but then, it was probably humorous to have a
soldier punished for something he felt he had acted right in.

He moved toward a table and ran his fingers over the surface
and replayed the scene over in his mind, then he turned to
Quintus and longed to tell the officer what had happened, but
that he had not been given permission to speak further, so he
kept the incident to himself. All Brendyn wanted to know, was
had he felt the right instincts in that situation...the
danger, the unease of having unchained prisoners placed in a
private room with the door shut, or had he over reacted? Were
his suspicions unfounded? He was only a lancarii, and did not
have the same rank as Quintus, but he looked to the man for
advice on the matter, or criticism. Brendyn decided to bring
up the situation if Quintus asked him to relate what happened.

There was a sort of uncomfortable pause, however, as Brendyn
was not quite sure what to talk to Quintus about. Being a
Centurion had been a dream of Brendyn's, but he liked being a
lancarii, or lancer. Someday, he thought a slight promotion
would be nice, but he had a lot to learn. He took another
glance at Quintus, and walked to the window, his sword
clanging lightly against the stone wall. Brendyn spoke in an
almost thoughtful voice, ''At Aesica, I heard great things of
Commander Castus and the men who serve under him. Some things
I would hear almost sounded like legends. Commander Antonius
spoke highly of him...." He turned his gaze to the Centurion
who was still leaning against the wall. "It was my dream to
serve him, and to be as good as the men who serve under
him...But I fell short of that endeavour," Brendyn said. He
was not proud of that fact, but his voice did not waver
either. He was a Roman soldier, and would act like one.
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