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| September 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Apr 22 2010, 01:55 PM (2,542 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | Apr 27 2010, 03:00 PM Post #106 |
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Author: Unicorn Date: Thu Sep 18, 2008 2:26 pm Dagonet He could not help it. He could not help that he felt bad... both in body and heart. Linnette has eased him in his guilt and made him feel a little more himself than few days before. But still... he could not help the ache inside his soul. He felt awkward knowing that this woman will give birth to his grandchild... that the child will grow exactly how Gedeon has before, without his real father. This was a tragedy with what Dagonet had difficulty in facing it. He didn't want to face it but was left without a choice. It hurted... deeply.
Dagonet wanted to say something or just to simply nod his head but was caught off guard... surprised. Linnette leaned quickly towards him and gave him the most unexpected and the most warm gift he could get. She hugged him... His arms instantly went to he slender form also and returned this little gesture. He could feel her cheek upon his own and the warmth of her body, just for a brief second. But this brought happiness to his heart. He finally felt some of hope entering his mind and heart. The heavy guilt finally loosening even more. It made him smile. So that when she broke off the contact Dagonet was still a little surprised but half-smiling at this.
Dagonet watched her go with the older man and closed his eyes, a light frown returning to him. He turned his head to look at Saoirse and gave her a sad smile. He still had family. He still had people who cared about him. It was good feeling to have. "This was hard..." he murmured and leaned slowly towards her to put his head upon her shoulder, while squeezing her hand weakly. Mirtha Why was he here anyway? Again? Why was he holding the bottle? Why the hell was he again drunk? Was he angry? Was he disapionted? Why the hell was he thinking about her? and her child? It was not his child! It was not his responsability! It was not his problem! So why was he thinking so much about it? Why did he even care? He got drunk again, almost because of it. He was still at the point of almost drinking himself to unconsciousness... Mirtha looked at the bottle, into it then and shook his head. This was not the way for helping her or himself. It was cold and he was trembling standing outside leaning over a wall. It was late... He looked around. nobody around... He took another sip of liquid and shook his head looking downwards benting his head. WIth a deep sigh Mirtha threw bottle to the ground with anger... watched as disolated pieces of glass scattered, soaking in alcohol which still burnt inside Mirtha's throat. He should talk with Ione... He should find her and say what he felt about it... and what have she made him think and believe towards her. What he felt. She wasn't at her shop... Crossing the courtyard with heavy heart Mirtha wasn't angry anymore. What if she was hurted? What if she had done something to herself, just because he had not prevented her from doing so? He reached the infirmary and walked into the room, searching for her. And there she was... with some people around. Who, to his own surprised didn't matter to Mirtha. Only her... "Ione? What happened?" he asked geting near her bed, and kneeling beside it. It was akward as the two of them had actually met in the infirmary. But then he was looking for Aisling his former employer. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 27 2010, 03:01 PM Post #107 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Fri Sep 19, 2008 4:15 pm Mari Was it even true? Could she find herself in that position again but with love instead of fear and not think of him? Could it be possible to have someone touch her intimately like that and not imagine the feel of leather instead of skin? Mari wanted vehemently to believe she could move on from that horror, she wanted to believe that nothing like that could ever happen again and that from now on she could be happy, safe and unharmed by Milan. In anything. He took her hands and Mari sighed, looking down as his warm lips caressed her skin. She felt all the energy drain from her body and her eyelids drooped. Small shoulders sagged and the young woman gave a faint, wispish smile.
Mari nodded her head and slinked in under Milan's arm as he stepped backwards. She leaned her slight form against him and let him lead her to the bed where she promptly bumped down onto the pitiful mattress, uttering a chuckled 'ow' to feel the hard planks beneath the thin mattress. Sighing again, the young woman released Milan's hand and bent down to remove her boots. They thudded onto the floor and she shivere, quickly squirrelling under the small coverlet. It was a mild night of sorts - milder than they had had up until then at least. Blinking back the tiredness, Mari looked up at Milan as he readied for bed, holding the blanket right up under her chin. "Do you believe in forever? In.. in in ... in things after this?" Mari asked in a quiet voice, an uncertain voice, a tired voice - "I mean, do you believe there's something after life? Do you think we'd know each other?" her words were warbled at the end as she spoke through a jaw-splitting yawn. Amadeus
Oh he was good. He was acutely good, painfully good, obsessively good but as with all heroes, Arthur Castus had a fatal flaw. A flaw that Amadeus clung to like a limpet! He looked into the man's steely green eyes and suffered his degrading dress-down with as much grace as one might expect of a man with a background like Amadeus'. His one reaction was to simply raise an eyebrow when Arthur began by telling Amadeus, in his own words, that he didn't want him there at all. He did not react other than that one arched brow - outwardly he did not react. Inside each and every word from the commander's mouth was stoking a vicious fire, a burning hatred and a desperate, calloused fear in him of this man. Not because he thought Arthur could best him - no no. He feared Arthur because he actually believed that the woads could be handled by treating them well, that there was some outcome for Britain that had the Romans living in peace with the Woads. Was he crazy? There had not been peace in Britain for four hundred years, why would this man think that he could change that? To claim woads, even bound and gagged as they were, were no threat was ludicrous!! Did Arthur believe Merlin's men would show any kind of mercy if the situation had been reversed? God no! And that was why Malcus, the imbecile, had grabbed a traitorous whelp and brought her back to Badon... for fear of Merlin's opinion of 'mercy'. The scorn in Arthur's voice when he referred to a non-existant villa made Amadeus go cold inside. His expression became dead and nothing else that Arthur said seemed to penetrate the icy shield he held up. Little did the Commander know that the Optio had his grey sights set on this fortress that they both now resided in. Little did Arthur know... The torrent of unwarranted reprimanding came to an end finally. Amadeus had not moved, his brow was still hovering in a modest quirk and he looked vacant. He had not nodded nor indicated his attention to anything that Arthur had thus ordered of him and he had no intention of doing so either. He felt a chill down his spine and rose to an impressive height. He gave a stiff nod of farewell to Arthur and started to the door woodenly, his grey eyes fixed ahead, unseeing, as his mind went through the whole thing again. Was he being threatened? Not once, not twice but three times Arthur had, in a round-a-bout way, indicated that his life was in danger. That, should he try break the mould of listless, mindless weakling soldiers that currently filled the ranks at Badon Hill, that he would be .... killed? The Optio tensed his jaw as his hand reached for the door-handle and he paused. He glanced over his shoulder at the stolid commander and cleared his throat, ground his teeth and turned back to the door. He was going to tell Arthur that, despite what he might think, that Amadeus Scipio was capable, that he had faced enemies and that Arthur Castus was the problem here. He wanted to tell Arthur that in no other Roman Fortress would an officer be chastised for killing the enemy regardless of circumstances. But instead he pulled open the door and walked out without a word, stalking down the corridor with his grey eyes fixed ahead, a burning fury raging in his veins. His boots pounded as he wound his way towards his room, conjuring an image of Rowan in bed, of her immaculate body and ... A groan gurgled from the mans' throat as he got to his room, haphazardly flung the door open and practically fell inside, grasping at his throat as a sudden urge to scream and vent his frustration could barely be contained. He staggered towards the window and shoved it open, bowing his head as he tried to prevent the red haze from taking over. He could barely see the stone beneath his palms so intense was his fury and bitterness. Amadeus tossed his head backwards, his narrow neck tensed, the tendons straining against his grubby skin, his Adam's apple rising and falling with every hiccupped breath that managed to rasp through thin lips. "Damn him." Amadeus finally gasped in defeat. Saoirse
Saoirse's eyes widened just a little when Linnette leaned down to hug Dagonet. Her blue eyes looked at the woman's arm and then to her auburn hair and back to her arm. An indescribable feeling of unworthiness made Saoirse's heart quicken. She frowned, looking down as Linnette said goodnight. The Irish woman glanced over at Linnette and gave her a wan smile, feeling a quick blush rush to her cheeks. Dagonet seemed oblivious as he squeezed her hand, laying his head on her shoulder. The red head felt tears pricking the corners of her eyes as she raelised why she felt so inadequate, so damn unworthy.
"Mmmm." Saoirse made a small, comforting noise as she stared down at Dagonet's huge hand holding hers. Linnette was the type of woman that Dagonet deserved. Someone nice, pleasant, proper - someone who would not disappoint him or break his heart the way she had done so often. Saoirse knew it was ludicrous to think on such a silly thing but she couldn't help it. No one would ever believe this 'father' business between Dagonet and Linnette - true as it might be. Now that Gedeon was no more it seemed .... strange, to Saoirse. Swallowing hard, the red head turned her face to Dagonet's bristly head, kissing it gently before resting her cheek against his crown. "She's..." Saoirse stopped, licked her lips and shut her eyes. Why was she doing this? "She's a good woman." the Irish woman said, knowing DAgonet could do nothing but agree which would inevitably make Saoirse raelise that everything good and admirable about Linnette was something that was missing in her own character. Sniffing gently, Saoirse shut her eyes and skooched lower on the bed, gently resting an arm across Dagonet's hard stomach as she snuggled in for the night. Drake Drake did deliberately walk behind Linnette. It was a defensive position. He could see what came ahead of them and he could prevent anything coming from behind them and at this moment in time he considered himself as nothing more than a protector for her. Drake didn't consider himself companion of 'friend' material. It was a foreign subject to him. Brothers-in-arms, oh yes. He could have those - but friends... ? No. He never had friends before - why would he start now in such a late stage of life? Also walking behind ensure he could look at her to ensure she was well, to make sure that she was not going to break down, to make sure she was not going to attempt to assault another wall. He watched the pace of her feet a moment, then the way her elbows were tight to her body, defensive almost, holding herself together. He gave a warning look to a messenger who was barrelling along the corridor to their right - a warning for him to slow and not interfere in this whatsoever, even to interfere with the noise of his feet. When they arrived at her .. their doors, Drake walked around to stand in front of Linnette, head bowed looking at the book in her arms, held tight to her body. He cocked his head and glanced up at her face to meet her hazel eyes and he felt the whole world drop from beneath him. He was staring into oblivion and he wasn't sure how to make himself move or do anything. It was like the whole world shifted - for the briefest seconds the world went sideways and fixed itself up again with nothing more than a tilted picture on the wall to prove anything had happened at all. The tilted picture frame was Drake. Swallowing hard, the Spaniard looked down, frowning as was his habit.
Another audible rumble broke the silence as Drake cleared his throat and lifted his head with a noble purse to his lips. He looked at Linnette with a tight expression and nodded curtly. He was going to just leave it at that but his lips had moved and his voice betrayed him by whispering her name -- "Linnette..." Now what? Drake flexed his fingers against the palm of his hand, feeling the bandages from where he had been stabbed through the hand a while ago shift slightly. He lifted the same hand and wiped it down his face in mild frustration, the sound of his calloused skin rubbing against his bearded face quite audible as green eyes looked to the rafters for inspiration. "Linnette ... " another pause, a frown, a sigh of defeat, "Sleep well. You know where I am." his hand reached backwards to drum thick fingers against the wood of his own door and he gave her a sheepish half-smile that made his eyes glitter fantastically in the moment before he ducked his head... again. One large hand reached out and touched Linnette's upper arm. Drake cursed himself for starting it but he had little option other than turning and running - so he leaned forward a little and, instead of kissing her temple, he pressed the side of his bristly chin to her temple and squeezed her upper arm. "Goodnight." he said gruffly, intent on going into his room and spending a good, solid hour chastising himself mentally for getting involved in this at all. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 28 2010, 09:49 PM Post #108 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Fri Sep 19, 2008 4:53 pm Arthur Scipio appeared to take Arthur’s rather curt verbal disciplining quite well which gave the Commander hope that the other man did have some scruples in the matter after all. Arthur noted the Optio’s stoic and stiff posture while he ignored the other man’s arched brow as he returned Amadeus’ brusque nod. Scipio was able to match Arthur in physical height as he had held the Commander’s stern gaze, but Arthur was the broader man and certainly the wearier one. Could Scipio turn out to be a steadfast and trustworthy Optio? Possibly…. if the man followed Arthur’s directives and paid attention. Arthur’s intense emerald gaze followed Scipio until the other Roman strode quietly out of the room. The Commander now considered the matter settled since his Optio had added nothing further before taking his leave. Thus Arthur would focus on what must be done to mend the damage of today by dealing with Merlin himself tomorrow. Today was done. Factum est. Once the door had clicked shut leaving Arthur alone in the expansive room, his shoulders visibly sagged and his head dipped as he released an almost bitter sounding sigh. It was very late now and Lancelot had failed to report….which could mean only one thing: he had found himself another whore for the night. But why did that matter? It should NOT mean a damn thing to Arthur. He attempted to steer his thoughts away from the memories that always seemed to shove their way into Arthur’s head the second he was alone…..he turned back towards the table and reached for his goblet of wine….his gaze lingered on the tabletop once he’d taken a generous drink and a memory flashed before his eyes of how Lancelot had taken…..how the rough grain of the wood had bitten into the flesh of his back…. …..the goblet went careening across the room and landed with a loud clunk on the stone floor after colliding with the far wall. Arthur tightly shut his eyes against the memory and turned away from the table. He had a thousand other things – more pressing matters – that he should be focusing on right now; certainly NOT painful memories from the way things had been between them. Arthur had Darya to consider foremost now, especially now that she was with child – HIS child. It was all wrong…..she had not been the one and now she was to become what? A liability? A weakness in the Roman’s armor? While it was true that Arthur loved Darya – in his own way- he had never even considered having a family with her….especially not when he lived such a dangerous life that was certain to end on a battlefield. Arthur Castus deserved no children of his own and how well could he truly hope to protect this one? He chewed at his bottom lip to the point of tasting his own coppery blood while slowly padding across the room towards the wash basin. Arthur’s wound had been paining him, but suddenly the pain was radiating from his chest not his side…his heart ached and his hand slid up to press over the thing as Arthur willed it to settle. Was this how Uther had felt when Ygraine had become pregnant? How had Arthur’s father dealt with it? How would Arthur deal with a child of his own? He slowly removed his tunic and splashed a generous handful of water on his stubbly face; and then for a long moment stared blankly down into the wash bowl before continuing. And while he went on to meticulously shave and wash in preparation for bed, Arthur’s mind continued to grapple with all that he faced…securing peace with Merlin, food shortages and damaged structures within the fortress walls and impending fatherhood….and Lancelot. Had they truly moved beyond what once was between them? Arthur changed into soft linen trousers and a pale open collared shirt and somehow his feet managed to carry him to bed. He had had the presence of mind to rouse the fire in the hearth before collapsing on top of the furs…..and before sleep would take him, Arthur Castus prayed to God for guidance, for strength, for hope and for His absolution…..and Arthur ached for the answers that would reconcile his troubled mind and his heart. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 28 2010, 09:58 PM Post #109 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Fri Sep 19, 2008 7:08 pm Linnette and Linnesse He gave her a curt nod in response to her good night, and Linnette pressed the door handle down, already in the act of opening it, sure that this was all there was to it, that that sudden, inexplicable frown was going to remain there and she would just have to wonder what had just displeased him...but then, he spoke again. Her name.
"Hmm?" She drew her hand back from the door handle, looking up at him expectantly, her eyebrows raised and head slightly tilted to one side, waiting for whatever he wanted to say. But he said nothing more. The moment stretched, and Linnette, seeing movement, looked confusedly down to see him flexing his bandaged hand. Did he want some help with that before retiring, then? But maybe he was hesitant to ask? Linnette took a breath, ready to assure him that of course she would help, that it was the least she could do...but as she watched him scrub his hand over his prickly, unshaven chin, she decided that maybe that wasn't what he had been about to say. So she continued waiting, frozen in her expectant, listening pose.
"I do." Linnette nodded her reassuring acknowledgement of that fact, but she couldn't rid herself of the feeling that that had not been originally what he had planned to say- and the sheepish smile that followed his words only confirmed her suspicions. What had it been, then? She took another breath, debating whether to just ask him- she was very curious- when all of a sudden, his hand was on her upper arm, his eyes had locked with hers again, and he was leaning towards her. It came so unexpectedly that her brain had trouble processing it- but it looked awfully like he was going to kiss her! She froze, utterly undecided about what to do. Duck away? Turn her cheek instead of her mouth? Kiss him back and damn the consequences? Something else entirely? Her head spun with the possibilities, the implications, the face of Gedeon insistently present through it all...and in the end it was with a wash of indescribable relief that she realized he was not going for her lips. She let out a sigh, closing her eyes momentarily, as she felt only the brush of prickly chin against her temple. He hadn't kissed her- not even there. That was best. She had no idea what she would have done if he had.
A light squeeze to her arm, and then he was stepping back, turning away from her, going into his own room. It was hard to form words, but somehow Linnette managed it, her hand once more on the door handle in preparation for flight inside, her mouth dry. "Good night," she whispered, and then she opened the door as quickly as she quietly could and ducked inside.
"I thank them...him…," Having repeated Derfel's exact phrasing automatically, Linnesse quickly corrected herself, with a wry smile for the reminder of their differing religions. It wasn’t any matter to her, though. She adjusted her top leg over him and cupped her palm around his cheek tenderly as she continued. “…for you. Always.” Her hand curved around his cheek and smoothed back sweat-dampened hair, then glided back down and traced the curve of his lips. He was tired; she could tell by the feel that his eyes were already closing. “Let me get the blanket, love,” she murmured, leaning forward to press a whisper of a kiss to his lips. She squirmed backwards from him, trying to disengage arms and legs from around him with the minimum of disruption to his position, and reached for the rumpled blanket at the foot of the bed. She twitched that over Derfel as she sat up, then scooted to the edge of the bed and stood up, feeling around on the floor with her feet for the other blanket- the one she had been wearing- and the pillow she had set behind Derfel’s head as he was sitting on the floor. Fortunately- the cooler air had already brought out goosebumps on her pale skin- she found both quickly and bundled the whole lot back onto the bed, where she busied herself arranging everything into a comfortable nest around them. Well, not quite everything. Her nightgown was around here somewhere, but when a cursory pat-down of the mattress did not turn it up, she shrugged and forgot about it. It would have added extra warmth, but it was nicer to snuggle bare skin to bare skin with Derfel, anyway. As she wiggled her way into a comfortable position, stretched out alongside her man and with the blankets pulled up to her chin, she felt a sudden belated stab of worry for her sister. Was Linnette all right? Had she even come back from the infirmary yet? Surely it must be late, and she had not planned to stay long… Linnesse levered herself back up to a sitting position, her head cocked to listen for any sound from the outer room. Nothing..and she was just about to haul herself to her feet, find some clothes, and go find out what was the matter when she heard- thank God!- the slight creak of the outer room’s door opening, and footsteps coming inside. It was Linnette- Linnesse could tell by the sound, but perhaps even more by instinct. A wave of relief washed over her- but she was apprehensive, still. Linnesse kept listening as the footsteps moved across the common area of the outer room. There was a pause by the central table, the soft, creaky sound of the food basket being briefly explored, and then the footsteps continued on towards the bed. A moment later, Linnesse heard the curtain being pulled across. There had been no sound of any crying. That, above everything else, would have brought Linnesse out of bed no matter how inconvenient or tiring. But there was none of that- not even a hint; and the pulling of the curtain seemed to indicate that Linnette was going immediately to bed herself. Linnesse listened a moment longer just to make sure…but other than a faint sound that was probably the shifting of Linnette’s mattress, no other sounds came. Still feeling a little worried, but with her eyes nearly closing- and reassuring herself that Linnette in all probability needed her sleep, too, and that she would talk to her first thing in the morning- Linnesse sand back down among pillows and blankets and curved her body against Derfel’s solid warmth for sleep. Linnette was not asleep yet. She lay on her side, facing the stone wall along one side of her bed, a piece of bread from the basket in her hand, desultorily chewing on a bite of it. She was a little hungry- but not much. She was tired- but didn't feel like closing her eyes yet. They remained open, staring into the dark, looking at nothing but the cold stones of the wall. What would Gedeon have thought of all this? Was that even a fair question? Because she would not have even contemplated that Drake might kiss her had Gedeon been waiting for her in their bed. For that matter, if Gedeon had lived, Drake wouldn't have contemplated it, either. For that matter, maybe he handn't considered it at all. There had been no kiss, after all. Maybe it was all in her imagination. Maybe she was a bad woman for imagining it! That thought made her feel desperate- she hurriedly swallowed the last of the bread and curled herself tighter into a little ball, trying to imagine Gedeon there with her with all her might. He would be lying behind her, perhaps, his body curled around hers, his arm tossed carelessly over her waist and his breath on the back of her neck. A protective pose- him protecting her, just as she protected their child. That was the image she needed to hold in her mind- not pointless fantasies and what-ifs. Linnette burrowed deeper into the blankets, letting her memories wander- it was no effort now, none at all. Gedeon practicing in the training yard, Gedeon holding her hand as they walked...it was all there bubbling up and running over, and Linnette sniffed and sobbed softly as she shifted closer to the wall, curling so that her forehead lay against the cool stone, letting that give her its obscure comfort. There wasn't any other. She did sleep, eventually; she got some rest, and all her tears were silent. It was better than last night. But it wouldn't be right without Gedeon ever again. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 28 2010, 10:11 PM Post #110 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Fri Sep 19, 2008 7:34 pm Titrus
The sound of someone's voice caused Titrus' head to fall forward as he dozed and jerk him awake. For a moment, the lieutenant was disoriented and didn't know where he was. Shaking off the fog from his fuzzy, ale-induced stupor, Titrus remembered he was in an infirmary room. The sleeping woman on the bed next to him was confirmation. Ione was sleeping, her breathing deep and even. Titrus recognized the man kneeling next to the bed as Mirtha, the stableman. The lieutenant was quite annoyed with himself for not having heard the man walk into the room. He could have been anyone! "Ssssh!" Titrus hissed. "She's sleeping, leave her alone." Titrus carefully slid his hand from hers and slowly stood from the chair, his back creeking and his knees popping. He resisted the urge to groan. Titrus stretched long and hard, yawning and balling his fists. He had no idea how long he'd been asleep, but he knew he must get home right away. His daughters would be worried. Titrus peered down at the sleeping woman's face and wiped away dark curl of hair that fallen over her eyes. "Sleep well, lady. I pray that all will be well for you," he whispered, not waking her. With that, the lieutenant threw his heavy cloak, that one Ione had sewn for him, over his shoulders. "Come now!" he said to Mirtha. The man muttered something incoherently in his thick accent. Titrus made his way out of the infirmary and headed home, his shoulders hunched over in cold night air. Malcus Barbattus Malcus lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Tomorrow morning he would order Titrus, Quintus, Karl and the new transfer, Brendyn, to accompany Arthur. Titrus, Malcus knew, was trustworthy and a fine officer, as was Quintus. Brendyn had the makings of being a fine soldier and Barbattus felt comfortable sending the young man along. Karl was a strong soldier and an experienced lieutenant. However Karl could be difficult to reign in at times. The captain felt Karl was a good choice though considering the stakes and that he would be a good asset to Arthur should Merlin challenge the commander. Yes, Malcus would order Karl to ride also. Tomorrow would bring about the stable punishment. Three days was a long time, but Malcus would serve his punishment without complaint. Damned ratty little fucker, Scipio. Malcus knew there was darkness behind those beady little gray eyes of his. Malcus had a bad feeling about the optio. It was obvious that he and Arthur were nothing alike. A pompous, arrogant Roman like Scipio couldn't take lightly the conditions at the fortress. Surely such meagre surroundings were offensive to his accustoms. Malcus would keep his eyes and ears open. He didn't trust the man and as soon as Arthur returned, he would tell the commander as much when they were alone. Barbattus closed his tired eyes. Within minutes, he was snoring. Mona Mona peeked from under the rabbit furs and scanned the campsite. The perimeter of the camp, she knew, was well guarded. Her countrymen would be in their perches, high up in the trees. The rest of the camp seem deserted, it was so quiet. The woads had learned to live and sleep in complete silence, careful to never give away their location, even as they dreamed. Mona yanked back the furs and the cold air hit her hard. She moaned slightly from the discomfort of her many wounds. But no way was she near death. She had deflected most of Guinevere's blows expertly, just like the princess herself had taught her. Now make no mistake - Mona had definitely been injured. One may even consider her wounds to be severe, but the woman had suffered worse over the years. Slowly, Mona stood and stretched her muscles, then crouched low to the ground and crept to the far end of the camp, going around the longest way. She was careful not to make a sound and to stay low to the ground so that she would not be seen. There were many furs where Merlin slept. The area had been cleared and a comfortable space made to give the leader as much comfort as possible. Mona stiffled a giggle and silently cursed herself. She'd come too far to mess up now. Her plan was almost complete. She had wanted to kill Guinevere before she made her move, but it had not happened that way. The bitch was too fast. Never mind, though, it really didn't matter. Guinevere would be of little consequence once Mona was woad queen. Mona stood over Merlin for a moment, hearing him breathe deeply as he slept. He slept on his side and the furs were way up past his ears. Mona could barely see his his head. Getting down on her knees, Mona quickly lifted the furs and slid under them, sliding close to Merlin and spooning her body to conform to his. She snuggled next to him, wrapping her arm around his waist and nuzzling her nose into the back of his neck. She sighed with contentment. Finally, her time had come. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 28 2010, 10:15 PM Post #111 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Fri Sep 19, 2008 8:06 pm Brendyn Gods above it had been a long night! The young soldier stretched a bit to loosen his muscles, and twisted his head from side to side to wear out a kink in it. It felt so good to be on duty and doing something useful for the service of Rome and Badon Hill...and his new Commander, Artorius Castus. What a noble name for one so great! Brendyn recalled the brief encounter after the battle when he had come asking to tend to Arthur's wound. He had not gotten to tend to the wound, but he had briefly met the man as well as the First Knight. None of the Sarmatian Knights were as Antonius had described them, but rather the opposite. Each had a very warrior like attitude, and yet had the closeness he had wished he had had with the other soldiers he had fought with while at Aesica. Brendyn liked them, even if some had been slightly leery of himat first. Gawain, Galahad and Derfel had been very personable and he hoped to meet all of them again soon... The cold air smelled fresh with rain and earth. Brendyn inhaled deeply. It would be morning soon, and time to get on with other duties...whatever God put before him. His eyes lifted to the horizon, and tried to recall the vast beauty of the land that had spread out before him when he had first begun the night watch. So mysterious and hauntingly lovely. This was nothing like Brittany, where he was from, but still Brittany had a rare beauty all it's own as it was a coastal country. Someday, he'd go back, but for now, he was duty bound to serve Rome, and he'd serve it with everything in him. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 28 2010, 10:18 PM Post #112 |
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Author: Unicorn Date: Sat Sep 20, 2008 12:13 am Dagonet The tall knight was indeed tired by this time... It was not that he had not enough sleep. In fact he had slept almost whole day, only awake when somebody came to him. His mind and heart were tired from the pain he was constantly feeling and his body was tired from the wound that also inflicted him pain. But he tried to block this all out. He was at least trying to be strong again. Linnette allowed him to feel some of relieve in him, as she forgave him for what he had done wrong. It was good to hear, even if the poor woman didn't understand it completely. She said he had done nothing wrong in her opinion, but even so was able to say those things.
Dagonet frowned a little at this. Saoirse was silent for the whole time he takled with Linnette. She was not interjecting into the conversation, wasn't throwing any of her opinions as always. Just silenced her for this one talk. And still was silent. What was going on in her head right now? Was it something in Linnette's words or in his that made her acting so? The big knight wasn't sure... but it still was strange to him. Linnette's visit brought him peace of mind and hope to get better. What have it brought for Saoirse? As she kissed the top of his head and put her cheek upon it, Dagonet wondered about what was she thinking. What her mind made her to believe in right now. Cause he knew that Saoirse believed sometimes in unlikly things. He was about to say something, ask her about what was she thinking, but as always it was Saoirse to have her first words. Even the situations of not fire emotions, like anger. Even now in silenced pain and misery they both felt.
Dagonet didn't answered. He allowed her to lay down and put her arm on his stomach... his mind drifting and wondering why did she say something like that. Yes, it was true that Linnette was a good woman. She always had been. She was nice, kind and always willing to help, probably soothing Gedeon's fears and worries. Yes, she was perfect woman.... for Gedeon. Gedeon was a lucky man to have her. A thought of his son's death made him close his eyes briefly. But he moved it aside. He had to focus on staying strong, not breaking himself apart. Was Saoirse trying to say that she was not worthy Dagonet, cause Linnette was such good woman? Was she feeling that she wasn't needed? Instead of confirming Saoirse's words he brought his arm to go around her shoulders and weakly held her, close to him. "I love you, little one, you know?" he asked her. "And if you think that I'm not aware of what are you are trying to say you are wrong... You are a good woman and you are the only one for me. I need you." he assured her, only gueassing about what was she thinking but testing his luck. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 28 2010, 10:20 PM Post #113 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Sat Sep 20, 2008 8:20 am Merlin There was movement behind him, a light tugging at the furs, and a new warmth under them. The Woad leader never slept very deeply- some part of him always seemed to be alert- but this night, his slumber had been admittedly more profound than usual. It had been an exhausting day, and he was now practically buried in his fur, his body curled around Juna's, tightly against her for warmth- when the unexpected, stealthy movement stirred behind him. Merlin froze, his eyes opening to the cold darkness of predawn, as he assessed the stirrings behind him, intent on figuring out what it was. His first thought was that it was an animal, some forlorn creature blindly seeking any source of warmth in the winter night...but that thought didn't last long. The pulling back of the furs was too deliberate and careful, and then the shape of the body that now cuddled itself up behind him...definitely human. Merlin sat bolt upright, all his senses alert, spinning to face the intruder as he flung its arm off his waist. On the other side of him, Juna stirred and also half-sat up, rubbing her eyes confusedly, but Merlin was all intent on the interloper. He flung back the fur to get a good look...and even in the dark, recognized Mona, the "madwoman", lying there next to him. A sudden surge of disgust filled him- she thought she could creep up to him and embrace him under cover of darkness? After what she had done to his daughter, after what she had done to endager the mission? "What are you doing, woman??" he exclaimed, with no thought for the modulation of his voice. Around the makeshift camp, more sleepers awoke, sat up and peered over curiously, and a couple of the guards dropped warily from their positions in the trees. Someone leaned over and threw a handful of small sticks on the fire- they flared up, showing Mona's face in a sudden burst of orange light, and there were mutterings and whisperings all around the circle of onlookers. What had happened? What was the madwoman doing in their leader's bed? |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 28 2010, 10:23 PM Post #114 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Sat Sep 20, 2008 8:54 pm Ione She felt as though she had slipped into a fog, and all she could feel was the baby moving within her, and some pain, though she was too sedated to move into a more comfortable position. The last thing she clearly recalled was having asked Titrus about his duties, but she had fallen asleep on him, so she never would know the answer...though she could ask another time. She heard sounds, and then Tirus's soft soothing voice. Now, Ione could hear voices, and even at one point smelled the strong pungant oder of wine or some sort of drink, and even in her deep sleep, it almost made her sick just inhaling it. Then she thought she heard a question What happened... By then she was too lost in the realm of sleep to even answer. Ione had not wanted to be sedated so heavily that she'd not be able to call for help if something further happened, but to actually sleep....Ione could not recall when she had had a decent sleep, though this sleep was filled with pain still and movements. Once she had moaned, ut that was it. A few times, the pain came, but she tried to concentrate more on the movement within her. Oh, but she wanted the baby to live! She had always wanted one, and now she was in danger of losing it. As she slept, all she could hear in her mind now was Linnesse's voice telling her of the two losses, Accolan and Gedeon, while she could hear her own inner voice telling her that Javier was not coming back...and all of the other worries and stresses that had happened of late. The loss of Adian's woman, Thorn, and the child she carried. Inwardly, Ione was full of sorrow, more than she had ever imagined happening in her life. When Javier was around, the young weaver felt as though she was bound for a happy future. Now, all she could see was a dim future with little hope for happiness, unless the Gods and Goddesses decided otherwise. And so, the herb induced sleep held her in a realm of dreams and thoughts....and of the baby. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 28 2010, 10:37 PM Post #115 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Sun Sep 21, 2008 12:19 pm Drake Drake deliberately did not slam the door. He closed it gently and stood there with his hand on the handle, lips pursed and eyes beginning to water as he stared down unblinkingly at his thick fingers, though it seemed as if he were looking through his fingers instead of at them. After a while his head straightened up and he was looking at a point on the wooden door. And then he shook his head, frowning instensely as he whirled away from the door, kicking his foot at the bedpost irritably. "Fuck!" he growled, not realising his exclamation would be loud enough to be heard through the damn wall. Both of ihs hands came up to hide his face as Drake dug his fingers against his eyesockets hard in acute irritation. He turned away from the bed, hands against his cheeks, eyes peering blearily above his fingertips before he slumped down onto the bed, flopping backwards so that the crown of his head was against the wall. He realised that his attempt at comforting Linnette had probably looked all wrong to her, and felt all wrong for her too. Her hesitant reaction to his attempts to soothe had made that all too clear. And all he had been trying to do was ... was ... well, all he wanted to do was to let her know that he cared. He hadn't been going to kiss her, he wasn't even sure he was able to kiss her without his haunted past claiming his present mind and obliterating his sense of decency and sanity so he would not risk it. Sighing, Drake toed off his boots awkwardly and over a long period of time, remaining in his prone position on the bed, until finally he got fed up and tugged them off roughly, flinging them noisily at the door. He remained seated and unbuckled his belt, flinging that with his boots - and then his leather trousers went the same way. Curling up beneath the blanket in the blue tunic, Drake fuond himself barely able to sleep. Every now and then he looked at the wall next to his elbow adn frowned. He would look away then and stare sightlessly at the ceiling. At some point he did sleep but woke up not long after to resume his vigil at the wall, cautious of any noises he heard in there. SUNRISE (MORNING) Morning came early for a man who barely slept. Drake clambered out of bed and went to the washbowl to splash his face, making a resolution to replace the damn stagnant water sometime soon. He raked a wet hand back through his black hair, slicking it to his head and donned trousers and boots once more. He was leaving his room before the sun had breached the horizon and was buckling his belt as he walked down the corridor. He was quite proud that he hadn't paused at her door - but kept on walking until he was out into the bitter cold air of a winter morning at Badon Hill. Shivering, the Spaniard took his cloak from over his arm and threw it over his shoulders, stalking with resolute, heavy footsteps to the sparring yard. A few of his older trainees were there, oddly enough, and Drake greeted them with a stiff nod of his head. With neither a comment or compliment for them being there without his ordering them to be, Drake set about doing some minor training with them - tkaing some sympathy on them for all the troubles they had all been through the past few days between the siege and attack. Saoirse When had she become so insecure? Saoirse lay against Dagonet's warmth wondering as he was silent, mulling over her words. The red head had never been confident in herself, using her insane anger and wiley temper to conceal a rather pitiful girl with no self-confidence. But after just a short time wondering she came up with her answer regarding Dagonet .... she had become insecure ever since she had left him. Ever since she had walked away from him leaving him in a position whereby he could take another lover and she could have nothing to say on the matter. She had become insecure when she had returned to him and had been taken back by him and when she knew that she had been awfully wrong about leaving him at all.
Little one... Saoirse gave a faint smile. Anyone else to call her that would be nursing a burst nose or a bruised groin. With Dagonet it was a term of love and endearment. The big Knight's rumbling voice speaking such gentle words might have been comical in another setting - but Saoirse only found herself bound by his words. He needed her? No... he thought he needed her. What he needed was someone who wouldn't damn well hurt him the way she had. He needed someone to carry his child to full term, to birth it and then let him hold it, to let him father it the way he so longed to do. Someone like Linnette who wouldn't dream of taking so selfishly the way Saoirse had. "I'm not goin' anywhere, Dagonet. I've told ye -- I don't much like this livin' business unless you're beside me. It feels all wrong." she admitted, closing her blue eyes and bowing her head so that her face was half buried against Dagonet's strong chest. She breathed in the musky scent of him - the smell of horse, sweat and all the salves that had been applied to his deadly wound. "Now let's go t'sleep hmm? Mornin'll be here wi' all it's own little problems." she murmured, tipping her face towards his hard stomach and giving him a kiss through the material of his tunic. Sighing, Saoirse let her eyes remained closed, her breathing evened and she slept quietly but lightly, aware of any movements her lover made, aware of any alterations in his breathing... Galahad Twice he had tried to sneak out of the infirmary overnight and twice he had been deftly steered back to bed. Galahad lay on his side, eyes shut but he was definitely awake. He had an arm wrapped about himself trying to stop the aches and pains but they were insistent. The hangover was probably the worst feeling... well, second worst. The worst feeling was when he thought about where Alina had spent her night. All his midnight wanderings and thinkings had gotten him absolutely nowhere. He still didn't know how he felt about Alina with Kolya, he didn't know if he wanted to fight to get her back when yesterday had seen him embarrassingly punch up his Sarmatian brothers instead of landing a decent hit on Kolya. And was it worth it if that was what Alina wanted? The young knight gave a protesting groan and rolled his feet off the bed, his legs followed and he stomped down onto the ground. He had donned his tunic sometime during the night and was satisfied the bandage about his middle would last him for days at least - so long as he didn't go to the baths that was. His hand was straight out to ward off the helpful nun who had put him to bed twice the night before. "No - bugger it, no!" he exclaimed, his eyebrows twitching into a dark arch over his sorrowful eyes. "I'm going and that's that. There's nothing wrong with me that a decent breakfast and some bedrest wont cure so just ... just let me go ok?" he murmured, stepping around her with his hand still outspread to keep her away from him. Once she got her fingers around your arm you were a dead man... figuratively speaking of course. The nun pouted at the young knight but he just ambled by her, making a haphazard line for the door. Once the cold morning air hit him he started to feel better already. The bruises on his face were not as bad as they were the day before - darker, but not swollen. And the wound in his side, though aching, was feeling less 'full' than it had done when he was put to bed the day before. Clearing his throat, the dark-haired knight made his way across the courtyard, his curly hair being tousselled by the wind and obscuring his vision a little. He didn't really know where he was going but he figured he would just go towards the fortress proper at the very least. Maybe he could find Gawain and apologise for yesterday. And Lancelot. That thought made his head ache. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 28 2010, 10:42 PM Post #116 |
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Author: Unicorn Date: Sun Sep 21, 2008 1:03 pm Dagonet He had never thought that he had done wrong taking back Saoirse into his protective arms... Having her back as his lover. He had never thought that he would see her again. When she disappeared, leaving him only a short letter, Dagonet was crushed and thought she left for good. That she will never return. But even so... he was not looking for another woman. He could see himself only beside her. He could see only Saoirse's slender and little body against his, big one. He wanted to kiss only her lips, nobodies elses. He could not think of making love to anybody else. And that some would call foolishness... but he would call this love. In the day Saoirse returned to Badon.. he felt confused, broken because of the fact that she didn't want to talk with him. When she came to him finally to talk, Dagonet took her in his arms. He could love only her, nobody else. And that is why he had not thought, not for a moment that he had done wrong accepting her back. He felt good with her. He loved her too much to let go... even if the fact that she took away his daughter hurted so much. He had promised himself that he would never ever let go... And yes, he needed her strong character, he needed her anger sometimes, he needed her stuborness to keep him in this life. And he had not even thought that Saoirse could think differently.
Gods he was tired... and feeling that Saoirse was geting ready to sleep beside him, made him more and more sleepy. With her words Dagonet's lips lifted in a little smile. Living buisness... Oh, yes, he loved everything about her. And everytime he heard that Saoirse wouldn't leave him again, made his heart beat faster with relieve.
She gave him a light kiss on his body trought his tunic, put her head upon his chest and his arm went around her and held her even closer to himself. His strenghts weren't with him just yet, and all he could was to weakly feel her body only, but even this made him feel better. How would he feel, if she hadn't returned to him? How would he face Gedeon's death without her? He was greatful to the gods for having her still beside him. "Mhm.." he only murmured at her words and stirred a little finding the best position to sleep. The mere little movement was enough to make his side ache, but he did not want to worry his lover, so he pretended that everything was alright and that there was no pain at all. No sounds... no wince.. nothing. Slowly closed his eyes and tried to have some rest. Some sleep... But this night was not as peacful as the night before. He was entirely at ease. He felt so tired that he thought that sleep will come quickly. It didn't... He was trying to get asleep for hours after Saoirse had. But the oblivion didn't come. Thoughts of Gedeon, battlefield, his wound, fevered dreams of his son, his friend's worried faces, Derfel taking care of him with Gawain and everybody else, meeting with Saoirse and the bad news given to Linnette, her teary face, her pain... concerned Arthur and Lancelot's visit - everything mixed up within him and he could not stop thinking about it. Every time he closed his, Gedeon's face appeared... The scary vision of him in pool of blood.. or different images of what happened with his son, when he fell from that high wall. The tall knight could not sleep and once he finally was able to, he murmured something trought it and woke up after few minutes. He had another nightmare. He hoped only that he had not awoke Saoirse. Dagonet had not found any sleep this night and in the morning felt even more tired than before... he was able to sleep for only few minutes during the whole night. In the morning he slwoly brought a hand to his face and rubbed tired eyes... Looked down at Saoirse and stretched his tired body slightly, not wanting to wake her up. Just to have some movement... |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 28 2010, 10:43 PM Post #117 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Sun Sep 21, 2008 1:04 pm Vanora It was time to get up and ready herself for work. She did not need the sunlight to tell her that much. It had become a matter of instinct. Rolling over, Vanora sweetly kissed the sleeping, snoring man next to her, then slipped out of bed. Stretching, she made her way over to see to the twins, then moved off to wash and dress for the day ahead of her. Hopefully, things would be better then they had the day before. The last few days had not been ones to remember, except that Bors had gotten home safely. Looking over at the snoring bulk in her bed, Vanora placed a shawl over her shoulders and made her way out of the house, silently closing the door behind her. The morning was damp with yesterday's rain, and the air smelled fresh and earthy. Vanora inhaled the smells especially of the cook already baking the bread needed for the day. Smiling, the red head made her way into the tavern, closing the door behind her, then making her way to the kitchen area. Seeing that things were satisfactory, Vanora hung her shawl up and then moved up front to the counter ready for the day to start... Brendyn It was always a marvel as well as a privilage to watch the night turn slowly into day. The dark purples and pinks and yellows and whatever other color God chose to throw in was always something to watch. Brendyn shifted again and looked up at the slowly lightening sky, how the colors changed as the sun rose higher behind the clouds. It was a new day, and he thanked God that nothing eventful had happened during the night. God knew the fort had suffered enough and did not need any more destruction done to it. It would be about an hour or so, he thought before the changing of the wall guards would take place. Behind and below him, Brendyn could hear the tiny sounds of the fort waking up to greet the day as well. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 28 2010, 10:44 PM Post #118 |
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Author: Lancelot Date: Sun Sep 21, 2008 4:10 pm Lancelot Grey pre-dawn settled in through Lancelot’s windows, and his eyes snapped open as if something physical had woken him. He sat up, his body protesting, his wounded arm and his blackened eye screaming in pain, since he’d done nothing for them the previous night. Other than dally with a beautiful whore that had driven him from her side with merely a sentence. Are you afraid? No…but I think you are. But not of me. A growl erupted from his lips, but Lancelot forced himself to stare at the window, and at the filtered, watery looking sky that was barely lit by the coming sun. His room was dank and cold; he hadn’t bothered to light a fire when he’d returned. He’d thrown himself fully dressed onto his bed, and had spent the night in a dead sleep, his mind thankfully blank, no nightmares to speak of. None that he cared to remember, at any rate. Catherine’s face filled his memory, and despite himself, he closed his eyes, and rolled his chapped lips inward in defeat. The woman had shown him no mercy in her examination of his workings, and by the gods, and even though Lancelot would never admit to it, she had gotten to him. More painfully than he thought possible anymore. There was only one person who could hurt him like that, and that one had shoved him away. Although…Lancelot had certainly given him plenty of reason. Catherine’s statements – though she might not have known just how close she was – had cut too close and everything that had been distracted and wanting about Lancelot had dissipated like so much smoke. He’d turned from the whore, dressed quickly in his too big leathers and borrowed tunic, picked up his swords, and had blown through the door and into the night like a well fired arrow from an enemy’s bow. He wasn’t sure what he’d say to her when he saw her again; not that it mattered to him, but he didn’t like the idea of his reputation sullied because of a rash move he’d made. Especially one that was Arthur’s…damn it. Groaning, he rolled to his feet, his movement smooth as ever despite his wounded and dirty body. He dressed in the same leathers – no choice for this morning, he’d have to see the clothier or the weaver later on – and picked up a random tunic that lay on top of the clean pile someone had delivered while he’d been out fighting with Galahad yesterday. He unfolded it and began to tug it on – too big by far. It was Arthur’s. He held the shirt up by the sleeves; whoever had cleaned it (one of the fortress slaves he was certain) had done an excellent job and the thing looked almost new – except for the worn appearance of the fabric. Lancelot felt his mind wander back to the aftermath of the recent battle – Arthur’s wan and white face haunted his every step that day, and thus, he’d done everything he could to make sure the commander would live. Lancelot needed him. He needed him – not only for his security and his generosity when it came to leadership and protection of the Sarmatian “dogs,” but …. Love is a rare gift. Something his mother had once said. Lancelot folded the tunic back up, and found one of his own, with only a small tear at the shoulder. He shrugged it on, and pulled on his beloved black vest, lacing the thing quickly. He wore a single sword, the belt surreptitiously used to hold up his leathers, his beautifully cared for double blades remaining on the wall where they stayed when he wasn’t actively fighting or on patrol. The boots went on last, and he stopped at the small piece of reflecting glass that had belonged to Tor – yet another knight fallen by the wayside. His face was ridiculous – the eye was completely swollen shut, dirt was still smeared over his cheeks, his lips were raw and dry, and his goatee was scraggly and his hair! Lancelot smirked at himself, and picking up a rag, hastily used a bit of the water in his basin to try and get the remnants of gore and grime off. When he was finished, he could see where the sun had left its scorch on his skin, and the shiner Galahad had given him looked worse because you could actually see it now. He threw his head back and cackled, leaving the towel where it dropped. The short march down the quiet hall and out into the courtyard was a blur; he had to blink his eyes (or, eye) against the soot from the still burning torches and the adjustment between the early morning sky and the building that housed Arthur’s quarters was too short. He had to stop when he reached the other man’s door and wait for his pupil to allow him to see again. It was hard enough with only one eye working. Lancelot reached for the latch, and, hesitating, tried to think quickly of some sort of story to tell Arthur about his new injuries. He thought and tossed a few scenarios away – how likely was it that he had been kicked by his own horse? – but in the end, came up empty. He’d just have to think on the fly. He was good at that, anyway, especially when it came to Arthur. One good thing about coming this late to report – no damned Optio. Although…Darya? Despite that small worry, Lancelot shrugged and pushed open the thick door that cut Arthur’s rooms off from the rest of the garrison. He shut the thing behind him – a few small oil lamps lit the room, and the brazier had burned down to embers, meaning the commander hadn’t yet woken. Lancelot made his way slowly into the recesses of the chamber, and stopped when he could see the bed. One form sleeping atop the furs. He let out a shaky sigh, and twisted his mouth. Should he leave, and wait until the other man was awake? His feet carried him to a chair near the bed, and he sat stiffly, to await whatever doom might come with Arthur’s rousing. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 28 2010, 10:45 PM Post #119 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Sun Sep 21, 2008 5:33 pm Arthur Arthur had slept in fits through the night; never truly resting as a weary and wounded man should. His mind would not settle – one moment troubled over Darya’s ‘condition’ and then next over his self-righteous drive to ensure the safety of the fortress. And then his thoughts would always lead him down the same dark and troubled path…the one that led to Lancelot. It had been easier to fight off thoughts of the dark knight when the two men had been angrier with one another. But something had recently changed….Lancelot had become kinder towards Arthur. The other man had tended Arthur in the aftermath of the battle with care he hadn’t shown in years. Lancelot had placed Arthur’s needs above his own by using strips from his own tunic to bandage the Commander’s wound. And then as Arthur groaned in his slumber and clutched at his current bandages, he saw Lancelot’s face – still smattered with blood and grime of battle, yet the smile so genuine and so caring….. ….and hope had crept back into Arthur’s conscience….hope that their close friendship had been spared in the aftermath of the breaking of their physical relationship. Or was it hope for something more? Hope is the worst of evils, for it prolongs the torments of man. The Sarmatian seemed to live within Arthur’s very soul…the two men seemingly bound by all the trials and tribulations and atrocious things that they had experienced throughout their many years together. Only Lancelot had found, albeit annoyingly enough for Arthur, a way to see the man behind the mask…every nuance of Arthur’s soul no matter how hard the Roman would try to hide himself from the other. He sees me for what I am….and perhaps that is why he cannot… And what of this child that Darya now carried? More questions than answers came from Arthur’s mind attempting to wrap around that particular matter. How could he possibly protect them both? And why had God seen fit to give Arthur a child now? He was not equipped nor was he worthy…if anything God should be punishing Arthur for his sins. Arthur still lay prone on top of the furs as the hint of the pale dawn began to filter in through the window. Warmth from the spent fire had offered little comfort through the night and the coldness in the room should have awoken him….but it was something else that finally stirred Arthur from his slumber. The heavy wooden door creaked and then a quiet click as the latch slipped back into its place. Darya or Eyla? No. Arthur then felt who had entered his private chambers…..he allowed his head to loll to the side and then Arthur slowly opened his eyes. The room was dimly lit by the oil lamps he had left burning last night, but he located his ‘guest’ as sleepy green eyes fell to the all too familiar form now occupying the chair closest to the bed. Arthur licked at his dry lips and flexed his right hand in the thick furs. “Lancelot….you are….late,” Arthur said in a voice that cracked from misuse. He then groaned while pushing his stiff body up into a sitting position to better receive Lancelot’s report. Arthur attempted to shove aside the whirl of thoughts that had filled his sleeping mind and reached up to rub at the back of his neck before fully focusing on Lancelot’s dark angular expression. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 28 2010, 10:46 PM Post #120 |
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Author: Starbelle Date: Sun Sep 21, 2008 6:35 pm Tatiana Curled up deeply like a little girl under the covers, Tatiana let out a soft sigh, something almost akin to a dove's coo in the sound as she stirred slightly in the early morning light and then rolled over from her position from facing the wall in her bed to facing Adian's bed not quite ready yet to fully awaken from her warm cocoon of pleasant sleep. Her eyes still closed, she reached up and with the back of one wrist scratched at her nose and then with her fingers pushed at a stubborn lock of her curling auburn hair away from the tip where it had been while she slept on the pillow during the night. Letting out a small, hopefully quiet sleepy sneeze as she'd not totally gotten away from the sensation of her hair rubbing against her nose then went willingly back into sleep's lulling embrace for a bit longer. |
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