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September 2008
Topic Started: Apr 22 2010, 01:55 PM (2,545 Views)
golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Darya
Date: Tue Sep 09, 2008 8:31 am
Neeve


Tristan
 
"It was a battle- things happen,"


“So…?”, Neeve snapped, right now not willing to accept this
poor explanation. Of course she knew that injuries
unfortunately were part of a battle, after all she had patched
up Arthur and the knights often enough in the last
years…however, the enemy getting so close to the Commander to
inflict such a severe injury upon him was very rare. She could
not recall the last time that had happened. The Woad must have
had jumped at the Roman or something…

The healer was still angry…just now her anger split and was
not focused on the Woad prisoner only anymore. A part was
directed at Tristan…simply because he was there, another part
was directed at Lancelot because he usually was supposed to
fight close to his Commander so why had he not prevented that
attack from happening? And another part was directed at Arthur
himself because Neeve was very sure that the Roman had kept
his injury a secret until his body was refusing its duty and
because he had kept the Woad alive.

But then Fiona appeared and distracted Tristan as well as
Neeve, giving the healer a chance to calm down a bit. And by
the Gods, the Briton tried to do exactly this. Yet it was
easier said than done…

Fiona
 
"Why would I scream?"


Tristan
 
"That one down there does,"


Despite her anger, this comment of the scout made the
raven-haired woman smirk slightly. “Very true…loud and
persevering…”, she remarked and eyed Fiona, wondering what
part the young Woad had played in the recent attacks…and
whether or not she knew the Woad prisoner in the dungeons.
Neeve knew very little about the young Woad…but found the fact
that Fiona was sneaking about the Fortress in the middle of
the night somewhat suspicious…probably due the healer’s
current mood…
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Elessars Girl
Date: Tue Sep 09, 2008 9:43 am
Derfel


Thank the gods Derfel had seemed to successfully get both he
and Linnesse into bed without further injury to either of
them.

Derfel’s feet still dangled off the edge of the tiny bed and
he still wore his boots and clothing…not acceptable
considering Linnesse was comfortably and very pleasantly
perched on top of him and touching his cheek. The ale
certainly had not dampened his libido tonight.

Linnesse
 
“That was effective,”


“Mhmmmm,” Derfel gave a nonsensical sound of contentment as
Linnesse proceeded to press her sweet lips to his and kiss him
most ardently.

“Aye…don’t think I could stomach any more hurt toes or knocks
to me head,” Derfel half laughed once their kiss had ended.
But at the mere use of the word ‘stomach’, the crazy thing
grumbled and girgled enough to have the knight worried about
losing it’s contents again. Oh gods no….not now.

Linnesse shifted her position on top of Derfel and luckily
distracted him from concerns over his belly….thankfully. He
reached for her hair and combed his fingers through the soft
golden strands lovingly.

“Methinks we are both overdressed for bed….” He mused and then
clumsily attempted to shove off his boots by prying the heel
of each against the bottom frame of the bed while beginning to
tug up his tunic with his free hand. The boots landed on the
floor with a thump, one after the other, but Derfel seemed
incapable of getting his tunic off.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: golden_trillium
Date: Tue Sep 09, 2008 12:02 pm
Linnesse


Derfel
 
“Mhmmmm. Aye…don’t think I could stomach any more hurt
toes or knocks to me head. Methinks we are both
overdressed for bed…


"You, particularly," Linnesse chuckled, disengaging her lips
with a laugh as Derfel's boots thunked to the floor one after
the other.

"This..." She propped herself up on her elbow and reached down
with her free hand to give an illustrative twitch to the
bottom of her nightgown, flicking it up to uncover about half
her legs and then back down again.

"Is easy." She smoothed the nightgown back into place, then
pushed herself further up into a sitting position and looked
down askance on Derfel's rather ineffectual attempts to get
his tunic over his head.

"Whereas this..." she bent over Derfel and got her arms under
his shoulders, trying to indicate that he should sit up- and
giving him a little help, though she couldn't just haul him up
all by herself. Once he was more or less upright, she reached
down for the bottom hem of his tunic, beginning to pull it up
over his head.

"...is apparently difficult." She grinned at Derfel cheekily
as she tossed the tunic aside, having accomplished that small
task quite handily. She leaned in closer to him and pressed
several soft kisses to his neck and cheek, while one hand
wandered over to his belt buckle.

"And this too, I'd imagine," she added in a whisper, as she
began to undo it.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: LadyCastus
Date: Tue Sep 09, 2008 12:14 pm
Titrus


Titrus groaned, realizing far too late that he was drunk as a
skunk. The tavern spun in the intoxicated lieutenant's vision
and he immediately smelled everything in the foul room. All of
the sweat, body odor and food smells assaulted his senses at
once and his stomach rolled. Titrus' head lolled to the side,
almost banging the table.

Quintus
 
“Maybe you better go on home, Lieutenant.”


Titrus raised his head wearily to see who was talking to him.
Ah yes, Quintus.

"You're a good man!" Titrus slurred and smiled drunkenly at
the centurion. His eyes rolled to the top of his head and he
burped. How had he let himself get in this condition? Titrus
rarely succumbed to the temptation of spirits but when he did,
he usually went overboard.

Quintus
 
“Up you come, I’ll walk with you,


Titrus was grateful for Quintus' assistance as the lieutenant
used the other man as a brace to stand up on. Once on his
feet, the room dipped precariously to the left while Titrus
rolled to the right, therefore plopping back down on the
chair, flat on his butt. The lieutenant found amusement at
that and cracked up.

Trying again, Titrus managed to get to his feet, this time
without falling back down. With his arm slung around Quintus'
shoulder, Titrus managed his own weight as the two Romans made
it the tavern door. A blast of cold air smacked against his
face whereas Titrus righted himself to his full height and
sobered quite a bit. It was near freezing outside.

Titrus looked at Quintus sheepishly, "thanks," he said with a
laugh. The two men walked in companionable silence, making
their way to their quarters. The cold air was invigorating and
Titrus inhaled the night air deeply into his lungs.

"Wonder if it'll snow," he said out loud, reflectively.

Just as the men approached the infirmary, Titrus saw something
that caught his eye. He tapped Quintus with the back of his
hand and placed his other hand on his dagger. He shook his
head to further clear the cobwebs and focus his eyes on the
figure on the ground.

"What's that?" he whispered to Quintus while withdrawing his
blade. "Let's check it out."
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: lady ione
Date: Tue Sep 09, 2008 5:24 pm
Ione


Llawen was distressed and kept lightly pawing at Ione to wake
her up. A cold wet nose pressed up against her face with a
nudge, and a loud "Mew". Llawen finally sat down next to Ione
and left one paw, as if protecting her, rest on her cloak. The
grey tabby was a very small cat, but when he senses trouble,
he could really belt out the meows, and so he did...calling
out to anyone who'd be curious and come running.

Llawen finally heard two men approaching, and from the looks
of them, well, they might be able to help. He was generally a
friendly cat who liked to give lovin's to everyone, and to be
petted and spoiled as he felt all cats deserved. He placed his
wet nose against Ione's ear and purred loudly to see if she'd
come to...

And this time, she stirred. The weaver had never felt such bad
pain except when she had been punished, but that was different
from this. She moaned and tried to moved a ways toward the
infirmary again, only to lie back down on the pavement.
reaching out, she took the distressed cat, and brought him
close to her. Llawen placed a soft paw against her face in
understanding.

'my lit..tle friend...my Llawen,' Ione did not try to move
again, but just lie on her side, with her face turned up.
Because it was dark out, the darkness of her cloak hid her,
and she doubted that someone would find her as everyone should
be asleep. It was then that she heard the sound of men
talking. The pain came again, and the young woman held the cat
closer to her, but not hurting it. Ione's dark eyes glazed
over as they always had when she was ill, or not feeling her
best, and they rested on the approaching men, until she could
not keep them open any more.

Llawen watched the approaching men as well wondering if they
were good or bad...
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golden_trillium

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Author: golden_trillium
Date: Tue Sep 09, 2008 8:19 pm
Quintus


Titrus
 
"Thanks. Wonder if it'll snow. What's that? Let's check
it out."


“’S a woman,” the Centurion muttered worriedly, placing a
restraining hand on Titrus’s dagger hand as he stepped
forward, hoping that now that they were outdoors and Titrus’s
head seemed to have cleared a bit, that he wouldn’t start
falling over or anything. The figure lying crumpled on the
ground was definitely a woman- he could see the folds of
skirt- and as he got closer he could see that she was holding
her stomach, clutching at it as if in great pain. A bit
incongruously, there was a cat sitting beside her, one of the
woman's arms tucked around it; it meowled insistently and
stared at Quintus with shining eyes as he approached.

“Beat it, Puss,” the Centurion instructed the cat crisply,
giving the animal a light push away as he knelt beside the
woman’s prone figure. As he put his hand on her shoulder and
half-turned her over, he recognized her- she was that
dark-haired girl with the weaving shop, and she was obviously
in a great deal of pain, her face drawn and tense, her hands
clutched over her stomach. Quintus did a quick scan down her
body for blood or any other obvious injuries, but nothing was
visible, at least not in the dim light from the occasional
torches placed around the courtyard- she was just holding her
stomach like it was about to burst.

“All right, sweetheart…I’m taking you to the healers,” Quintus
muttered in what he hoped passed for a reassuring tone- though
it was businesslike, too. There wasn’t anything he could do
for her, really- he had no idea what the problem was and no
idea where to start looking- but the healers could help.
Quintus glanced over at the infirmary building, just across
the courtyard- very close.

“Looks like that’s where you were trying to get, anyway,” the
Centurion added as he pulled the woman closer and scooped her
into his arms, standing up with a small grunt. A thought
occurred to him as he did so, one that made him twitch a
little and turn his face momentarily away- was it the fever
she had? The fever that had swept through the fort while he
and most of the rest of the men had been gone to Segedunum?
But the weaver woman didn’t feel unusually warm at all- so
maybe that wasn’t it. Still, he held her as gingerly as he
could while still giving support- he didn’t think was fever,
but what did he know?

“Can you manage the door?” Quintus turned to Titrus and nodded
towards the infirmary across the way, indicating that that was
where they were going and hoping that the Lieutenant was alert
enough to make it there on his own and be helpful.













Linnette

Dagonet
 
"I'll try my best to get up from bed soon...but I doubt
Lavinia will allow me to leave earlier than she wants me
to. Lancelot also made it clear he doesn't wish me up
before she says so... but she has already enough with
people coming here to see me. The more somebody comes to
me, the more she's angry and wants me out of here."


“Ahhh, I see,” Linnette answered, nodding knowingly and
actually grinning momentarily as she and Dagonet shared this
momentary conspiracy. “I’ll have to visit very often,
then…anything that helps your recovery.” She sat up straighter
and gave his hand a last pat, sharing her smile and the
sparkle in her eyes with Saoirse too, before it slipped back
into her now-more-usual solemn, sadness-tinged look. Nothing
made it completely go away- but the talk with Dagonet had
helped more than she had expected. Sitting here right now, she
couldn’t believe she had been nervous about it, so nervous in
fact that she had briefly stopped to talk to Galahad, of all
people, in preference. Clearly there had been no reason for
that at all.

And speaking of Galahad…Drake seemed to be done exchanging
whatever words he had been exchanging with the young knight.
Without really looking, Linnette could sense his presence,
hovering several feet behind her, and she half-twisted around
to see that he was indeed there, waiting, but his head turned
away from her and Dagonet and Saoirse, as if to give them all
their privacy. She managed to catch the corner of his eye and
give him an ‘I’m almost done’ half-smile, then stood,
transferred the small book into her other hand.

“I’ll come back tomorrow then, shall I? Maybe I could read to
you,” she added on sudden inspiration, brandishing the small
book illustratively. “It…it was lent to me…” her eyes slid
over to Drake automatically once more, though she hadn’t meant
to indicate him as the source of the book, “and I’m told it’s
funny. You might enjoy it.” She raised her eyebrows, giving
Dagonet a hopeful look, before taking a step back from the
bed, preparatory to going.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: lady ione
Date: Tue Sep 09, 2008 9:08 pm
Ione


Ione's dark eyes stared at the two men who were now close
enough that she could sort of make them out. They had both
been in the tavern earlier. One Neeve had called Titrus, but
Ione did not know the name of the other. The one stepped
forward...

Quintus
 
“’S a woman,” “Beat it, Puss,”


Llawen did not hesitate to obey the man who had
unceremoniously, but not roughly, shoved him out of the way.
The cat seemed to know that they wanted to help his mistress,
so he sat a safe distance from the two men, but still watched
them. As the man bent closer to her, Ione did recognize him as
the Centurion she had seen a few times when she worked at the
tavern, or sometimes when she was walking here or there. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and then rolled her over to lie on her back. The movement caused her a bit of pain, and she bit her lower lip, to hold back the sobs. Ione opened her mouth to speak, and at first nothing came out, she only moved her lips to form the words Ione had to tell them she was with child, and that something was wrong with the baby. Her eyes moved to Titrus who was close by, then back to the other man who was checking her over for wounds which was only natural. The nameless Centurion spoke to her as strong arms lifted her...

Quintus
 
“All right, sweetheart…I’m taking you to the healers,”
“Looks like that’s where you were trying to get,
anyway,”


...The pain she was in and the desperate movements her stomach
was making kicked in Ione's motherly instincts: something was
not right with the child....something was wrong. She turned
her head toward the man who carried her, and she said, 'My
baby...something is wrong...please...do...something...' Tears
began to stream down her face. 'I...can't..lose my...child...'
The gods had been merciful and had sent her and her unborn
child help, and now all she could hope was that the healers
could do something for them both. Ione tried to think that it
might have been something else, but that the pains and the way
the baby was moving...and the soup had tasted perfectly fine.
As the man carried her towards the infirmary, Ione tried to
relax her body, and to think of other things beside what was
going on. The only other time she could remember was when
Arthur had rescued her from dying in the dungeons, and the
fever that had almost killed her. He and Lancelot had both
saved her life, and she was forever in their debt, and now
Titrus and this other man..

Quintus
 
“Can you manage the door?”


Ione turned her head toward the man named Titrus whom the
other had addressed, then looked back at the man who held her,
'Who...who are...you...?' her glazed eyes looking up at the
man who held her...
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Eledhwen
Date: Wed Sep 10, 2008 5:26 am

Bors


Bors finally finished his food, licking the plate clean and
banging it down on the table before leaning back and patting
his full stomach. He belched loudly, and frowned around at the
rest of the tavern, then wiped his hand across his face
tiredly. What he really wanted now was to crawl into bed
beside Vanora and sleep for a week. His leg was aching a bit,
but nothing like as bad as it had been before his visit to the
infirmary, so he thought he could make it home alright.

Wondering vaguely about Tristan and this mystery prisoner who
had been calling for him, he left the tavern, pulling up his
collar against the cold night air. He didn't wonder about it
for long though, and quickly his mind slid on to other more
important things, like whether Vanora was keeping the bed
warm, and whether any of the kids would wake up tonight. He
hoped not, he could really do with a good night's sleep.

He made his way across the courtyard uneventfully, and finally
arrived at his hut, pushing the door open as silently as he
could. Seeing the inert figure on the bed he smirked to
himself in satisfaction. Good, a nice full stomach, a nice
warm bed and a nice warm woman... what more could a man ask?
Pulling back the cover, he lowered himself onto the rough
mattress, and put an arm over the still form beside him,
nuzzling into the thick hair which lay across the pillow and
always seemed to smell so sweet. Almost before a lewd thought
could cross his mind though, he was asleep, snoring quietly,
exhaustion putting paid to anything more adventurous, at least
for tonight.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: LadyCastus
Date: Wed Sep 10, 2008 9:23 am
Titrus


The cold night air was sobering the lieutenant up quickly as
he and Quintus moved closer to the bundle laying on the hard
ground.

Quintus
 
“’S a woman,”


Quintus placed his hand on Titrus signaling that it was okay
to resheath his weapon. Titrus put the dagger back in place
and watched as Quintus knelt down to assist the woman. The
centurion shoo'd away a mangy looking cat that appeared to be
standing guard over its apparent owner. Titrus peered over
Quintus' shoulder.

Quintus
 
“All right, sweetheart…I’m taking you to the
healers...Looks like that’s where you were trying to get
anyway...Can you manage the door?”


"Sure," Titrus answered, walking ahead of them and opening the
doors to the infirmary. The woman was muttering incoherently,
something about her baby that Titrus couldn't quite make out.
Was she losing a baby?

"Take her to the private room in the back," Titrus said to
Quintus, remembering the room where they'd held the woads, "it
will be private back there and away from nosy eyes and ears."

Quintus grunted and carried the woman to the back room. Titrus
closed the door as the other man lay the woman on the bed. The
lieutenant recognized the woman from the weaver shop. She'd
sewn the very cloak he was wearing. The woman was very pale
and her dark hair was damp, plastered to her head. She didn't
look well.

"Quintus, go see if you can find a healer, a medicus, someone
who can help her. She appears to be in pain. I will stay with
her for a while until someone comes."

Titrus removed his cloak and sat down in the chair next to the
bed.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: golden_trillium
Date: Wed Sep 10, 2008 10:23 am
Quintus


Ione
 
"Who...who are...you...?"


"Centurion Quintus," he told her straightforwardly as they
started to walk towards the infirmary, passing into the
slightly brighter torchlight as they got closer. What was that
she had said about a baby? She was pregnant, then, was she?
Quintus hmmphed slightly at that- it didn't sound good- but
whatever it was, the nuns would know what to do. Titrus did
indeed prove very capable of holding the door, thankfully, and
once inside, Quintus followed the lieutenant's direction and
skirted around the edges of the room, heading for one of the
small private rooms at the back. That was usually where the
women went, when there was room. Better than being out in the
open ward with a bunch of sweaty, smelly soldiers.

Titrus
 
"Quintus, go see if you can find a healer, a medicus,
someone who can help her. She appears to be in pain. I
will stay with her for a while until someone comes."


"Mm- we've already got company." Quintus stepped back from the
bed where he had set the woman as footsteps sounded just
outside the private room's doorway. One of the nuns, who must
have seen them enter, stuck her head in the doorway
inquiringly; behind her, out in the ward, Quintus could see
another one, at a patient's bedside, turning her head
curiously to see what was going on.

"What seems to be the problem?" the nun inquired of the men
calmly, coming around the doorway and looking down at Ione-
who didn't look in a good way at all.

"Not sure, ma'am...we found her in the courtyard." Quintus
straightened and, as often, had to repress the momentary urge
to salute. Mother Lavinia ran her infirmary with downright
military precision, and it showed.

"She was actin' like her stomach hurt, and she said something
about a baby." Quintus shrugged and took another step
backwards towards the doorway.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: LadyCastus
Date: Wed Sep 10, 2008 3:55 pm
Mona


Mona lay on the make-shift litter, looking up at the clear
sky, staring at the star that shined the brightest in the
North. It had gotten significantly colder so she pulled the
animal furs that covered her up to her neck and snuggled
comfortably underneath them. So far, her plan was working
perfectly.

Mona peeked over the rabbit skins and saw Merlin talking with
Ash. She couldn't hear the conversation and wondered what they
were talking about. What does it matter? she chuckled to
herself. Once she'd succeeded in her plan of getting rid of
Guinevere, (Neeria was no longer a threat at the present,
thanks to the backward Romans), Mona would have Merlin all to
herself. Just the thought of it aroused her and she felt the
familiar moistening between her legs and the tightening of her
womb.

Of course Merlin would grow to love her. He would eventually
take her as her lover and she would bear him a son. And what a
fine son he would be! The future heir of the island! Mona
smiled at the night sky. She thought of wrapping her long legs
around Merlin's slender waist.

Mona looked again and saw that Ash and the woad leader were
still deep in conversation. She didn't like that. While she
was indeed injured, Mona was not injured nearly as badly as
they all thought. Had Juna taken half a minute to really check
her out, instead of getting angry with her, she would have
seen that. Mona stiffled a giggle.

Yes, her plan was working well. Maybe it was time to put the
next phase into action.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: lady ione
Date: Wed Sep 10, 2008 8:51 pm
Ione


Ione shivered a bit in the cold air, and huddled closer to the
strong man who carried her. The movement caused the baby to
kick her side, and she moaned a bit. As the man who carried
her told her his name, Ione managed a slight smile. Of course,
she knew Centurion Quintus, and she wondered why she had not
recognized him before. For a while after she heard his name,
she drifted into a sort of semi-conscious state and she heard
the two of them talking between themselves, though just
snatches....Sure...private room in the back...it will be
private back there and away from nosy eyes and ears...

Ione came to a bit as the smells of the infirmary invaded her
senses, and her eyes moved from Quintus to Titrus as the moved
her to a more private room for which she was grateful, and was
even more grateful when Quintus lay her down on the bed, while
Titrus closed the door behind them. As the pains in her womb
grew, Ione had begun to sweat a bit. All she could do now was
hope that someone could save her child...Javier's child.
Glassy eyes opened to look at the two men as Titrus gave the
other man an order to find a healer, or someone who could
help...

Titrus
 
"Quintus, go see if you can find a healer, a medicus,
someone who can help her. She appears to be in pain. I
will stay with her for a while until someone comes."


The weaver watched as the man took off his cloak and sat down
in the chair next to her, and at seeing the cloak he had
tossed over the back of the chair, Ione did recognize Titrus.
She was thankful to both of the men for bringing her here.
Carefully, Ione moved to lie on her back feeling the pain as
she moved. As it subsided, she turned her head to look at the
handsome kind face next to her bed. Slowly, and by degrees,
her right hand moved over the blankets hoping to find a hand
there or something to hold. 'I...am scared....I don't want to
lose my child...' Tears streamed from her eyes as all of the
worries that had momentarily left her came back: the deaths of
her friends, not knowing if Javier was alive or dead...and now
the possible loss of the love child she and Javier created
together. Not far off, Ione heard, as had Quintus and Titrus,
the sounds of feet approaching.

Quintus
 
"Mm- we've already got company."


Nun
 
"What seems to be the problem?"


Quintus
 
"Not sure, ma'am...we found her in the courtyard." "She
was actin' like her stomach hurt, and she said something
about a baby."


A baby? The nun stepped inside and closed the door to the room
slightly to block prying eyes, and approached the bed where
the young woman seemed to be in pain and distress. Bending
over the young woman, the nun drew back the cloak Ione was
wearing and lay a hand on her stomach. Frowning, the nun felt
again and this time the baby kicked, but the kick was not very
strong. then she moved to Ione's out stretched hand, and felt
for a pulse on her wrist. With a heavy sigh, the nun looked at
the two men earnestly and intently, 'She is pregnant though
from what I guess, not far along at all...' Looking down into
the dark glassy eyes, another thought had occured to the nun:
the thought that this young woman had a strong will to live,
but that she was exhausted and stressed out over what the nun
could not tell. It was also not uncommon for women to die from
miscarriages, or pregnancy difficulties.

She looked at the man who was seated next to the bed and then
to the other who was stepping toward the door as if ready to
leave if he was not needed. 'There is not much we can do for
her except keep her comfortable for now. One or both of you
are welcome to stay with her, talk to her while I go off and
prepare some painkillers for her, and a drought to help her to
sleep.' The nun left the room passing by Quintus but not
before giving him a rather sad look...

Ione's right hand moved again over the blankets still hoping
for a comforting hand, while the other went to her stomach.
Looking at Quintus, who was now in the doorway, then to
Titrus, she whispered a 'thank you....both of you...'
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Pinkie
Date: Thu Sep 11, 2008 6:51 am
Amadeus


Oh it was easy to remain quiet whilst listening to the
alternate history of what had just happened. Amadeus was tired
- he was weary. He had not slept or rested in a long time, and
he was not used to such hardships. Not that he was pampered,
far from it. But he was not used to being so directly involved
in a war like this, almost a siege. And he was certainly not
used to having the words of Sarmatian slaves and
Romano-British Captain actually be taken as equal to the word
of a true Roman Optio.

This was frustrating.

But there was a plan in the Optio's mind. Arthur was burying
himself. Listening to Malcus Barbattus prattle on about his
version of events, listening to him twist things, listening to
him alter things to suit what he knew would sound best to
Arthur, Amadeus was conjuring a plan and all it would take now
was a letter to Rome. One letter to Rome about these events,
one letter to Rome... perhaps he would leave it a day or two,
just to see Arthur bury himself a little deeper. No doubt the
Commander would ride out to Merlin himself and invite him back
for a damn cup of wine and shank of lamb!

Pah!

When the Captain made the abrupt assessment of the mission,
Amadeus actually quirked a grin and bowed his head, eyebrows
raised. He found the man's brutish assessment to be amusing.
Though, if faced with such and inept description from one of
his own men, the Optio would not find it amusing at all. To
him, such language to his Commander showed a lack of respect.
But if Arthur did not wish to view it thus well then, that
would be his downfall.

Arthur
 
“I concur with your assessment, Captain, however, I must
address the manner of your actions towards Optio Scipio
while in the presence of Merlin and his people. I cannot
let your insubordination go unpunished, Captain, no
matter the good intentions behind your actions, You are
not alone in the failure of this mission, Captain
Barbattus. In foremost, I blame myself for not properly
preparing the both of you to face Merlin in my stead,
and now that I have heard the details from you both, it
is my conclusion that you both failed to act
appropriately in order to secure peace with Merlin. As
for your part, Captain, I will dock your wages for the
next two weeks and you will report for duty in the
stables for the next three days in order to fulfill your
punishment.”


Amadeus was livid.

The burning started deep in the bowels of his body and seared
right up through his strong stomach, pitching a blazing
inferno in his throat as he listened to Arthur demean his
Optio so levelly, so calmly in front of a Captain. He listened
as Arthur was damn well swayed by the words of his 'friend'
instead of using his God-damned head and listening to his
Optio! What kind of Commander was he?!

The Optio glanced upwards, the half-grin frozen on his
handsome face as he tilted his head enough to see around
Arthur's shoulder and catch that smug wink and mouthed praise
to Arthur from the Captain. So that was why Arthur had moved
then was it? That was why Arthur had placed himself in the
line of view of the Optio and his Captain so that he could
laugh and make a mockery of Amadeus Scipio without his
knowledge!!!

Without warning Amadeus launched to his feet. He tensed his
jaw and flexed his fingers against his palm, the rage allowing
him a moment of blissful ignorance to the excrutiating pain in
his thigh for the time being.

Grey eyes looked from the back of Arthur's head to the
Captain's and it took all of his carefully honed patience and
connivance not to demand justice, to not demand proper Roman
justice in this situation, to demand to know if Arthur had
punished his damn First Knight as he had promised to do so or
if they had had a laugh about it as he was having with Malcus
right now!

But no -- no no. That would get him nowhere. Already Amadeus
was resolved to go above Arthur in all this. He would go
straight to Rome with this ... this ... this fuck-up.

With obvious effort Amadeus forced a polite smile to his lips,
his silence more menacing than the glare of fury and
indignation in his eyes as he looked from Malcus to Arthur and
inclined his head. With a shaky hand placed flat on the table,
Amadeus sat himself back down again and kept his silence.

He would remain to hear what it was that Arthur had to say
about his supposed 'failure' to act 'appropriately' and he
would bite his tongue in an effort not to scream at Arthur
that it was he who acted inappropriately by treating the woads
with such a gentle hand!









Saoirse

Saoirse didn't not like Linnette. She always felt rather
uncomfortable around her. And for the strangest reasons.
Linnette was married to Dagonet's son though Saoirse was sure
that there was no more than two, maybe three years in the
difference with their ages. Linnette was the lady that Saoirse
had never been, the lady her family had tried to make her -
and it made Saoirse all the more aware of her rather
tomboy-ish behaviour when faced with Linnette. And now
Linnette had lost her husband and was bearing a child of that
deceased partner. Saoirse had birthed a child for a man that
yet lived.

It seemed to the Irish woman that Linnette was everything that
she, Saoirse, should be but never could be.

When she came over to speak with Dagonet, at first the red
head was a bit apprehensive. She smiled where she felt it was
necessary but otherwise remained uncharacteristically silent.
Her blue eyes watched, her pale ears listened and her heart
quietly broke listening to the shared misery, listening to the
abject sadness that both people on the bed with her felt and
yet all she felt was a sickening guilt that she had taken away
Dagonet's other child, and an even more sickening relief that
it had not been Dagonet that had been killed. It shamed her
immensely to feel it but she could not deny it either.

Swallowing hard, the Irish woman gently stroked Dagonet's
forearm allowing the conversation to continue beside her. Only
when her lover's voice strained with emotion did she look up,
warily looking from Linnette to Dagonet and back again -
certain that she should feel her normal anger for someone
upsetting Dagonet, but unable to manifest that anger because
it was Linnette. So instead she waited for Linnette to ease
that emotion in Dagonet, she waited and she prayed to all the
ancient gods that something Linnette would say could somehow
help Dagonet because she, so far, had failed to do so.

And it did...

Dagonet seemed to be smiling. Saoirse felt her heart quicken
and looked at Linnette with her eyebrows lifted, her
expression relieved and her blue eyes hinting at a gratitude
rarely seen from the red-head. She looked down quickly,
twining her fingers with Dagonet's.

When Saoirse looked up next Linnette was offering to come back
often and her eyes, Saoirse noticed in the way only a woman
really can, kept flitting to Drake who was standing
non-chalantly nearby. The Irish woman cocked her head to the
side in mild curiosity at that - not jumping to conclusions
but feeling that the situation would do with a little
observation. For some reason it also comforted Saoirse to know
that someone was looking out for Linnette.

Linnette
 
“I’ll come back tomorrow then, shall I? Maybe I could
read to you, It…it was lent to me… and I’m told it’s
funny. You might enjoy it.”


The red head glanced down at Dagonet, leaving it for him to
respond, still unwilling to interrupt where she felt she had
no right to do so. This conversation was with family - and
Saoirse was not quite there yet. Oh she was Dagonet's lover
and no one would question it. She was the mother of his
daughter but ... well, no one would mention that because
Saoirse had taken the girl away. Selfishly.

Not for the first time Saoirse wondered if she should go back
to Ireland, if she should risk it all and return for Aoife...
if Dagonet would forgive her for leaving and not returning
should it go badly. As she pondered these things the red head
was running her fingers up and down Dagonet's wrist and the
back of his hand gently, silently.









Catherine

Lancelot
 
"I'm sure you could make something up, love, I have a
feeling one such as you does what she wants. And I am no
man to force anyone to do what they do not wish."


If only...

Catherine did not do what she wanted to do. Some nights she
would lie awake and stare at the ceiling wondering what part
of her was real, what was the real Catherine and what was the
creature of passion created by her desire for knowledge and
her need for money. Sometimes it was enough to cause her heart
to race and her eyes to water with unshed tears. Another thing
Catherine would rarely be found to do -- crying.

As for Lancelot not forcing anyone into anything they did not
wish ... well!!

The blonde gave a whimsical simper at this claim, her hazy
green eyes unreadable. What man did not take precisely what he
wanted? What man truly denied himself that which he wanted?
What man did not follow his desires through to the end?

The only one that stood out in her mind right now was Gawain,
but that was different.

When she kissed his collarbone her body was warmed from the
inside. She felt that familiar but unpredictable surge of
desire for closeness, for passion, for sex. It was not
something that Catherine always felt - quite alot of the time
her encounters with men were entirely one sided though she
played the part of gratified lover well. There were a few men,
real men, who could evoke a passion in her. And they tended to
be the mysterious ones, the ones that she knew next to nothing
about.

Lancelot
 
"I am the worst,"


His chilling words made Catherine go still.

For some reason she believed him.

The contrasting tenderness of his kiss took her by surprise.
The blonde remained rather unmoving in his arms as his hand
slid around her back, up her side and halted at her breast.
She hitched in an awkward breath, anticipating his touch but
still rather dazed by his admission to being the 'worst'. The
thought was teetering on the brink when his kiss ended. The
whore leaned towards his face as he pulled away, a tiny frown
marring the delicate, pale skin between her eyes as she sought
more of that, more of that tenderness.

Lancelot
 
"Are you afraid?"


The question made her pause.

Catherine's eyes had fluttered shut and she remained
immobilised in the dark night's arms, his trembling body held
tight against hers. One of her hands was on his bare shoulder,
feeling the tremors that she could not explain. Her other hand
was somewhere down lower near where the towel hung loosely
about his hips.

Afraid... ? Was she afraid? She had to ask herself the
question over and over, trying to get her mind around fear and
what there was to fear. He hadn't threatened her and he hadn't
hurt her. Though once or twice his grip had been close to
painful, but from Catherine's experiences such things were
normal. When men wanted to hurt her, they hurt her. Lancelot
was not hurting her.

And yet... yes, she was a little afraid. She couldn't explain
it but she was a little afraid of him, of what Rome had made
of a man like Lancelot and of what that man might do.
And now the other dilemma -- does she tell him the truth?
Catherine did what pleased men, she acted and spoke in a
manner that pleased men but she did not know if Lancelot
wanted her to be frightened or not.

"No." she lied and let her eyes open very slowly. His face was
close to hers and she smiled, a sad little thing as she lifted
a hand to his bearded face with such lines and woes to make a
heart break - "But I think you are. But not of me." she
replied with a ponderous tilt to her head, wondering what
possessed her to challenge a man on his feelings, wondering
why she would presume to tell Lancelot that he was afraid - a
man who had fought battles and demons that she could not even
imagine, and she told him he was afraid.

Something in her very bones told her that she wasn't telling a
lie either.









Eala

Eala wanted to be helpful.

She moved alongside Ash's litter grumbling when someone's
movements were a little too jarred for her satisfaction, when
someone moved in a way that made the man on the litter shift
in even the slightest. Her body was small, her strength minute
in comparison to the others but her eyes would knock a
mountain on it's side when she wanted it to. Black gimlets
peered up at the carriers of the litter now and then - just as
a warning not to disturb Ash.

The little woad was injured herself - minor injuries, but
injuries all the same. Her left arm was giving her tremendous
grief where it had been set back into it's socket but she had
not taken good care of it since. The bruises on her little
body were aching too and she was cold. But these things were
not uncommon to little Eala. The life of a woad warrior, the
life of a repressed minority was something she had lived with
all her life. Pain and loss were a common thing in her life.
The desperation over keeping the ones you care for alive was
all too familiar to her as well.

Now and then she looked around for Juna, for Merlin - and
would just look at them for her own satisfaction to ensure she
was satisfied that they were well too. But Ash was her
priority. Her earlier efforts to help carry the litter had
been rejected for obvious reasons. Two feet in height for
instance...

Merlin approached and spoke to Ash... Eala had been unaware
that he was awake but knowng that he was made her bounce on
her bare heels, looking over at Ash and giving him a hopeful
smile, more a grin in fact. Her eyes darted to Merlin and she
gave him a proud grin, proud of the fact that Ash was strong
enough a warrior to be in the condition he was now but still
able to talk to his leader. Her chest puffed out in pride and
she did something that she hadn't done before -- reached for
Ash's hand as she would have done with Donnchadh.









Kolya

Alina
 
"He wouldn't, Get me out of here, Let him think what he
wants."


Oh she thought he wouldn't -- Kolya was not so certain. The
little deviant part of him would love to have it out with
Gawain but there was too much respect in him for the
fair-haired knight. They were awfully similar, the two of them
- something in Gawain's manner and approach to life reminded
Kolya alot of himself when he had been that age. When he had
been in the service of Rome. When he had been a slave to Rome.

Alina's reaction was rather unexpected. Kolya glanced down at
her, his chin tucked to his chest as he peered down at her
through narrowed blue eyes. As he looked into her troubled
brown eyes he became aware of an oncoming storm - a storm
named Gawain.

The collar of his tunic became tight and the old Sarmatian
rolled his blue eyes towards Gawain, giving him a suffering
look but not relenting his grip on Alina either.

Gawain
 
“Alina, get out of here. This bastard and I clearly have
some business to take care of.”


Kolya cleared his throat and looked down at Alina, his eyebrow
cocked. He had clearly heard her request/demand for him to
take her away from here but he was curious to see if she would
prefer to go alone and leave Gawain to him, or if she would
really rather he took her away. Her saviour. The idea amused
and disgusted Kolya all at the same time. It was his fault she
was in this mess to begin with. Kolya just left destruction in
his path, nothing good.

"Not as far as I'm concerned we don't." he clarified in a
calm, grizzly tone, glancing towards Gawain but only briefly.
He looked back down at Alina, still trying to make a bit of
sense out of her plea for him to take her away.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: golden_trillium
Date: Thu Sep 11, 2008 9:41 am
Quintus


Nun
 
"She is pregnant, though from what I guess, not far
along at all...there is not much we can do for her
except keep her comfortable for now. One or both of you
are welcome to stay with her, talk to her while I go off
and prepare some painkillers for her, and a drought to
help her to sleep."


Ione
 
"Thank you....both of you..."


"'S nothing," the Centurion shrugged, a bit uncomfortable with
her thanks. Picking her up out of the courtyard had only been
the decent thing to do...but on the other hand, he wasn't sure
they had really "helped" much at all. The nun's words had
rather implied that this one was going to lose her baby no
matter what, and it seemed that that was not what the woman
wanted. It looked like there would be a sad ending to this
little adventure sooner or later- and it wasn't his place or
his desire to hang around and see it. The Centurion's eyes
shifted over to Titrus, who had sat down next to the bed,
rather appearing as if he intended to stay for a while.

"You, uh...you be ok here if I leave? Get back home all
right?" Quintus asked Titrus cautiously. He didn't see much
point in both of them hanging around, and third watch, which
for him, meant wall inspection, came all too soon- but he
didn't want to leave Titrus if he was still sufficiently
affected by ale that he might have problems. He gave the
Lieutenant a glance up and down, trying to assess whether his
sitting was due to necessity, or to a genuine desire to wait
with the stricken woman for a bit.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: lady ione
Date: Thu Sep 11, 2008 8:41 pm
Vanora


She thought she heard the door to the house open, and at first
thought that someone had broken in. Thankfully, Vanora
recognized Bors' way of walking, and a smile formed inside
her. She could smell the ale on his breath as he moved into
bed beside her, pulling the covers over his muscular form.
Even in her light sleep, Vanora felt the warmth of his body as
he moved close to her, placing his arm about her slender form,
and she moaned lightly. In all honesty, it had been a while,
it seemed, since they had made love, and she thought that
tonight would be perfect for them.

But it was also a selfish thought as she remembered that he
had only been back from battle a day or so now, and he needed sleep. Vanora could tell earlier that he was exhausted as they never really had time to sleep during battles and such. So she turned toward her lover, and placed a warm sleepy kiss on his lips, then draped an arm over his body as he had done hers. Vanora nuzzled his neck, then closed her eyes in contentment, and fell back to sleep...
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