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| September 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Apr 22 2010, 01:55 PM (2,545 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | Apr 25 2010, 03:14 PM Post #61 |
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Author: Darya Date: Tue Sep 09, 2008 8:31 am Neeve
“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…
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 | Apr 25 2010, 03:15 PM Post #62 |
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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.
“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 | Apr 25 2010, 03:16 PM Post #63 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Tue Sep 09, 2008 12:02 pm Linnesse
"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 | Apr 25 2010, 03:17 PM Post #64 |
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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.
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.
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 | Apr 25 2010, 03:17 PM Post #65 |
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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 | Apr 25 2010, 03:20 PM Post #66 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Tue Sep 09, 2008 8:19 pm Quintus
“’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
“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 | Apr 25 2010, 03:21 PM Post #67 |
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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...
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...
...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..
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 | Apr 25 2010, 03:22 PM Post #68 |
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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 | Apr 25 2010, 03:24 PM Post #69 |
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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 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.
"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 | Apr 25 2010, 03:25 PM Post #70 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Wed Sep 10, 2008 10:23 am Quintus
"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.
"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 | Apr 25 2010, 03:26 PM Post #71 |
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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 | Apr 26 2010, 09:16 PM Post #72 |
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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...
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.
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 | Apr 26 2010, 09:22 PM Post #73 |
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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.
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.
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
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.
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.
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
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.
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 | Apr 26 2010, 09:23 PM Post #74 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Thu Sep 11, 2008 9:41 am Quintus
"'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 | Apr 26 2010, 09:25 PM Post #75 |
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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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