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October 2008
Topic Started: May 1 2010, 05:17 PM (3,212 Views)
golden_trillium

Admin
Author: lady ione
Date: Thu Oct 16, 2008 10:03 pm

Ione


Ione thought she had heard someone knock, and she stirred.

Still dreaming.

She felt like she was trying to work her way out of a thick
mud pool. If it was the nun coming to take Ian away, Ione
wanted to be awake. As she began to very slowly regain some
conscious state, she heard the door open a
bit....footsteps...the soft closing of the door. Why would the
nun close the door? Ione shifted a bit into a more comfortable
position, her face turned slightly upward...the small bundle
that she was mindful of, held next to her. At first, when she
heard her friend's voice, Ione thought she was still in her
dream. A gentle whisper that calmed her.

At least, she knew now that it was not Sister Margret.

Titrus
 
"Ione," "Ione, it's Titrus. I came to check on you. I
must leave on a mission soon and I wanted to say good
bye." "Ione?"


His fingers removed the piece of hair that had fallen into her
eyes and was becoming irritating. 'mmm...?' Ione asked as she
stirred slightly as her body urged her to awaken, her eyes
still closed. Her aching body shifted a bit more and tossed a
bit, before she was able to open her eyes. The young weaver
forced them to open, and in the blur saw Titrus standing next
to her bed looking down at her with some concern. She, frowned
while she blinked trying to clear the blur and sleep from her
eyes though they were still heavy with sleep. Ione wanted to
talk to the Lieutenant, though she really did not know why
except that he and she were always so busy that they rarely
got to visit, so she wanted to be awake for him. At first what
he had said had not fully registered, but then as the fog from
the sleep wore off, what he said began to resound in her mind.
'Tit..rus...my dear friend...' Ione managed a weary smile,
though she was sure her eyes were still red from sobbing.
Fighting to be a bit more awake at this point, Ione murmured,
'A miss...ion? Good bye?...I don't...like good byes,
Titrus...' Her eyes closed. A mission? In all of her tme at
the fort, Ione had learned that some missions were dangerous
and some not. She prayed that this one was not a dangerous
mission. What would she ever do without Titrus to make her
laugh and share stories with over a drink? He was one of her
more constant friends, and she loved talking to him, listening
to his tales of missions and battles...and Rome. Even though
Ione was not Roman, she still liked to hear tales of the
metropolis. She did not want to think of Titrus, or any of the
other men going on this mission dying. Ione could not even
imagine. She had already lost too many friends to battle and
missions gone wrong, and she did not want it happening to him.

Her dark eyes slowly opened again this time attempting a
smile, and reached out her free hand so that he could take it,
'I have faith that you will return....I keep wanting to say
'don't go', but I know that it is your duty...I will miss
you...' . Ione turned her head a bit to look at the tiny
bundle that she had placed the small blanket over it a bit
more, so that now it looked like a small shrouded body. Ian
was already cold, and the realization that Ian could not
remain filled her with emptiness. She felt lonely, and all of
the happiness she had ever wished for had gone with little
Ian. With a slight gesture to the dead child, Ione said in a
shaky though soft voice, 'My son...Ian...' Ione had no more
tears left, and she knew that she could not stop what was to
come for Ian. Ione moved the wrapped bundle over a bit out of
her grasp.

She had to let go just like she had to let go of the others
who had died.

Ione moved her eyes slowly back to where Tirus stood, 'Will
you be gone long?'

What if he did not come back?

Ione prayed that he would.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: LadyCastus
Date: Fri Oct 17, 2008 7:27 am
Titrus


Ione stirred a bit when Titrus repeated her name. It was as
though she was struggling to come from way down under back up
to the surface. Perhaps she'd been given something to help her
sleep considering, from the looks of it, what had happened to
her. The young woman's head rolled about a bit and her eyes
flickered. She reached a hand out toward Titrust which he
grasped softly.

"Yes, Ione. It's Titrus," he said again.

Ione
 
'mmm...? 'Tit..rus...my dear friend...a miss...ion? Good
bye?...I don't...like good byes, Titrus...


Titrus lowered his head and blushed. This was really the first
time he felt the need to say good-bye to a woman other than
Deeta. Of course, he told his 4 daughters good-bye but that
was different.

"Well then, I won't say good-bye," the lieutenant said
light-heartedly. "I'll say 'I'll see you when we return,'" and
he patted her hand.

"You must rest and take care of yourself, Ione. You have been
through a lot. You need time to recover. Then when you're
well, you can work on that new cloak for me," Titrus said with
a smile.

Ione
 
'My son...Ian...'


Titrus looked at the small bundle Ione held in her arms. The
blanket covering the baby resembled a shroud. Titrus
shuddered. As a war veteran, the lieutenant certainly could
look death in the face and he did not fear death. He'd seen
men die gruesome deaths, taking their last breaths on this
earth on the battlefield. But death in a fight or war was
expected. One was relatively prepared for it. But the death of
a child? Chills slithered up and down Titrus' spine. He didn't
like the thought of it. And for someone like Ione to suffer
from such a loss was heartbreaking. Titrus knew she must
separate herself from the child and grieve her loss right away
before long term damage could be done to her psyche. To hold
onto the body was not good for her.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Ione. I truly am. Loss of a child
never makes sense. I'm sure your son, Ian, is in the company
of angels now. When I leave, I'll call the sister back in here
to help you." The lieutenant reached down and stroked the
woman's cheek with the back of his hand.

"Rest now, my lady, I must go. Be well and we will celebrate
my return soon."

Ione
 
'Will you be gone long?'


"I'm not sure. Maybe tomorrow at the least and maybe a week at
the most. Ione, there is one thing I must ask of you," Titrus
lowered his head again and licked his lips.

"If I do not return, will you please make sure that my
daughters reach my wife's family safely? I know it's a lot to
ask, but I really have no one else I can trust to make sure
the girls will be safe."

Titrus bent down and kissed her cheek, then waited for her
reply.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Pinkie
Date: Fri Oct 17, 2008 1:01 pm
Catherine


Catherine moved to be noticed. Every placing of her foot was a
dance, a sophisticated way of moving that drew the eye - and
once drawn, kept it. Men were intrigued by the air of
cleanliness around her, the overwhelming sense that she was
something out of this world of muck and dust. It was pleasant
for Catherine too, to be so clean and radiant. She spent alot
of her time between the sheets with strange men and when she
was not she was walking about as she was now looking for their
attentions.

And this time was a success.

The blonde would never and had never intruded on any official
business that the soldiers and men of swords that were
resident at Badon Hill. She could often be seen doing what she
did now - walking by with the intent of being spotted, and
once spotted she did a most beautiful thing...

Her eyelashes swooped down over her cheeks after just a
moment's contact with the man who craned his neck after her as
she swished by in the rain. She allowed her lips to twitch
very slightly and then schooled her features to neutrality. At
least her mouth made her look neutral and unaffected - when
she lifted her green eyes to look over her shoulder at the man
they sparkled with potential merriment and warmth. Catherine
gave the officer a coy smile and ducked her head again, going
to sit under the canopy outside teh tavern, sheltering a
scattering of benches and tables. There she crossed her legs
and leaned her elbow on teh table, her back to the stables,
and watched the dusty window in front of her for sign of
anyone following her up there.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: lady ione
Date: Fri Oct 17, 2008 1:15 pm
Ione


Titrus
 
"Yes, Ione. It's Titrus,"


Ione had not expected to see Titrus again, but his visit, no
matter how short, was very welcomed. Even the feel of his war
calloused but gentle hand taking her made her feel less tense.
He was only human, and realistically, he could not eliminate
all of her pain and sorrow, but his touch and his softly
accented voice calmed her....much as Linnesse's voice had
before, during and after the miscarriage. Titrus, being the
Lieutenant, had very important duties about the fort, which
Ione understood for her job kept her plenty busy as well, so
it surprised her that he had found time even for this. Ione
honestly did not like good byes...especially concerning
soldiers. It had a ring of finality to it, and she avoided
using it as much as she could. She and Javier had said their
good byes, and now something like a dark cloud seemed to hang
over that parting. That was the last heartfelt 'good bye' that
they ever felt they had had to say. Finality. Somehow, she
knew she'd not see him again, and the same had been true for
Accolan. Her mind parted these morbid thoughts when she saw
Titrus lower his head and blush. The light heartedness in his
voice as he spoke again drew a warm smile from her. He had
that way of making her smile, and smiles were always welcome
even at times like this...

Titrus
 
"Well then, I won't say good-bye," "I'll say 'I'll see you when we return,'' "You must rest and take care of yourself, Ione.  You have been through a lot. You need time to recover.  Then when you're well, you can work on that new cloak for me,"


'Until you return then,' She slowly brought his hand to her
cheek and brushed a tear that had fallen there away, then had
placed a soft, chaste kiss over the same area. The weaver
brought the hand out slightly in front of her and left her
thumb run over the smooth back something to remember me by...a
kiss, a soft touch, and a tear. 'I promise....I'll take care
of myself, Titrus. Please promise that you will take care of
yourself as well...' Oh Gods please bring him home
safely....he and the others. He is a true friend, and I could
not bear to lose him from my life as well...reward him for his
gentleness and bravery... She looked up into those
eyes....those eyes that had seen so much, some good and some
bad, but that held so much wisdom and compassion as well. The
laughter that she sometimes saw in them. 'You cloak...is
done...except for seeing if it is regulation or not...it is
black with a white...almost silver double trim around the
outline...' Ione gave a soft laugh, and though it caused her a
bit of pain, she did not show it. If it was not regulation, he
could always wear it for the festivals or formal events at the
fort. She imagined that this young lieutenant looked very nice
in dark colors.

The conversation turned a bit when she introduced her son.

For some reason, she had felt compelled to do so even though
the child was dead.

Titrus's words brought comfort to her. To know that Ian would
rest in the arms of the angels, and that he'd be happy where
he was.

She closed her eyes as the strong hand brushed lightly over
the same cheek she had brushed the back of his hand over only
moments ago. Ione opened her dark eyes and rested them on
Titrus's. She had to let him go, so that he could serve
Arthur...oh gods she did not want to let him go fearing that
he'd not return, but she had to have faith and strength to
believe that Titrus would return to take care of his girls who
needed him so badly...

Titrus
 
"Rest now, my lady, I must go. Be well and we will
celebrate my return soon."


'I will look forward to that, my friend,' Ione replied
allowing her soft accent to show. 'We are behind a story and a
laugh or two...and there will be a Spring festival
soon....hopefully...' Her accent rarely showed up except when
she was very tired. Being Celt, Ione loved to have festivities
concerning the seasons and such, and wondered if Titrus had
any such traditions as well. She was not quite sure as things
were a mess right now, but there was nothing like a festival
to lighten everyones hearts. Titrus had sort of an accent as
well....lending to one of the reasons she loved to hear him
speak. What he said next was something Ione had not expected,
but she was glad to do it for him. What were friends for?

Titrus
 
"I'm not sure. Maybe tomorrow at the least and maybe a
week at the most. Ione, there is one thing I must ask of
you," "If I do not return, will you please make sure
that my daughters reach my wife's family safely? I know
it's a lot to ask, but I really have no one else I can
trust to make sure the girls will be safe."


If he did not return? Ione could not imagine him not
returning, but the reality was there that anything could go
wrong. It went with his duties. Ione's hand came up to his
face as he bent down to place a kiss on her cheek, her fingers
brushing over his own cheek. It was Ione's turn to blush, and
her cheeks took on a pretty rose color. She left her hand fall
to her chest as she replied softly, 'I promise I will do what
I can for your girls, Titrus...though I am not quite sure
where your wife's family lives...' Ione could not recall him
telling her or mentioning it really. 'Titrus....if for some
reason you do not return....remember that I'll always be
thinking of you...with smiles...'

Ione left her hand slip from his almost regretfully, and felt
tears threaten to come, 'You must go now, Titrus...don't want
Arthur mad at you...' She gave him a smile and a wink. 'Guard
yourself well, my friend.'

How could she even bear to lose one more in her life? How
could she even bear it?

Ione knew she had to be there for his girls, and she would
look after them, or at least look in on them. Ione looked back
over at the dead child...perhaps taking care of Titrus's girls
would bring some joy to her life just as their father had.
Ione had never thought of him as more than a good friend as
they could just have a great time together without getting
serious. Having Titrus and his girls in her life gave her more
things to care about than just herself.

just one more kiss is all I wish for....just one....so I can
carry it in my heart until you return... It had felt good to
laugh and visit for a short space of time, but deep down Ione
still mourned for her lost child. Titrus's visit had lifted a
bit of the heaviness off and she was greatful, but the worst
was yet to come.

The burial of her tiny little son.

Ione felt emotionally drained and sleepy, but she had spared
this moment to spend with Titrus....
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Pinkie
Date: Fri Oct 17, 2008 1:27 pm
Smith


Merlin
 
"Unfortunately we lost two warriors back at the
campsite, We sent the Romans scurrying like the fools
they are, though. Castus did not come- he sent his
Optio, one Scipio, to treat with us, but the man merely
fell to arguing with his subordinates right in front of
us. They were easy to dismiss. I deemed it safest to
spend the night safely away, for fear the Optio... would
seek reinforcements and immediately pursue- but now that
it seems he has not, I have ordered a small party to go
back and bury the dead if it can be done. You could go
with them, Some fresh strength would be welcome to them,
I'm sure, and if there's trouble, that beast of yours
could come in handy."


Smith listened to Merlin's recounting. He gave a grieved sigh
as he was informed of the losses that they had incurred.
Though it did pain him to admit losses to the Romans, he could
not hide his amusement and snide appreciation of how Merlin
described the scene that had played out with this new Optio.
His warm lips pulled outwards in a smile and he cocked his
head backwards, smirking up at the grey sky, the rain washing
over his handsome features. He gave a snort of amusement when
Merlin took a moment to spit his distaste of the Roman.

When the woad looked back at Merlin it was with dutiful
acquiesance. He was being ordered back to help bury the dead.
Smith did not broach any argument on this order - he
considered it an honour to accompany those who went to lay
their kin to their final rest. Merlin made a motion towards
the horse and Smith could not suppress the wry smirk that lit
his face as he turned to look at his fierce looking mount. The
horse gave a stomp of it's large hoof as if he knew that he
was being spoken of.

Smith nodded his head.

"We will lay our brothers to rest, Merlin. The gods will take
them to a place where there are no Romans. We will give them
all due honour." the man said sincerely, and despite his
serious and funerary words, Smith no longer looked to be in
mourning. He took the deaths of their people in his stride.
None, save, perhaps, Kayley, were so close to him that he
might pine or their passing - but he was reasonable and
faithful enough to know that their dead would indeed be in
heaven and they would be free from the bonds of Rome. They
were the lucky ones.
And Kayley was only the exception because his mother had taken
her in. Smith felt an obligation to the young female that he
did not feel for anyone else save Merlin.

At the sounds of another approaching, the young woad took a
few steps back before turning to see Rosita looking him over.
His eyebrow cocked upwards and his shoulders straightened. He
granted her the briefest of smiles, his dark eyes meeting hers
through the curtain of dark hair which was blown back over his
forehead, soaked by teh rain.

Rosita
 
"Merlin, I am ready to assist with the burials if you
still need me - my hunt was successful. When are you
going to teach me how to handle that beast? Now that he
is tame, I want to try."


Smith smirked.

He enjoyed conversation that involved his horse. He enjoyed it
because it meant he might convince more of his kin to take to
horses also. He knew Merlin did not entirely approve, and he
understood his leader's reasons, but there could be no denying
that a horse or two in their midst was not a bad thing.
The male woad glanced over his shoulder at Scáth. The large
horse eyed him warily, sensing the people's discomfort of his
equine presence.

"Hmmm ... does she talk to you or me, Scáth?" the woad said
quietly, loud enough to be heard, but quietly enough that it
seemd he was genuinely addressing the horse. It was in his
nature to be flirtatious - though most of the women that
battled with Smith knew that that was all there was for them
to be got from him - flirtations.

Smith pursed his lips and reached a hand back to stroke the
horse's breast gently as he turned back to Rosita with a
heart-stopping smile on his face. Almost an unspeakable
challenge in his dark eyes.









Mari

Mari was beginning to calm a little, realising she was not in
trouble - and moreso, that someone was interested in her
drawing. It wasn't something she envisioned for herself for no
living could be made from such things, but drawing was
something that she truly did enjoy. It was about the only
thing she could do with her hands. Sewing, cooking, healing
and knitting were all skills that she had no aptitude for. But
drawing came so naturally to her. To see something and to draw
it as it is... it was so very easy for Mari given the right
materials.

When Linnette lifted a hand to silence her ramblings, however,
Mari felt an uncomfortable squirming in her gut. She initially
put it down to her becoming rather cagey and unfair in her
treatment of people since her attack.

Linnette
 
"Mari... That's the hard part...the person I want drawn
can't sit for you. He's... "He's..he's dead, Mari. He
was my husband."


The young woman looked at Linnette's hand, there to halt her
talking, she heard the woman's admission that the person she
wanted a drawing of couldn't sit for her. She breathed a small
laugh and looked up at Linnette, ready to start on a rambling
tirade again to inform Linnette that she had to have something
to draw from, that she couldn't draw from descriptions or she
would draw pictures of foreign lands far, far away that are
baked in sun for most of teh year, of flowers so vivid and
heavily scented worn in women's hair and ...

Her ready smile faltered when she saw the tears standing out
in Linnette's eyes. Mari's mouth dropped open and she felt her
trembling hand stilled by Linnette's touch- and then the
reason why no one would be able to model for this drawing. A
husband. Dead.

Such a sadness!

Mari, tender-hearted Mari, felt tears stand out in her own
eyes at Linnette's desperately sad predicament and she wasn't
aware she was holding her breath until she gave a heaving sob
inwards quite suddenly, still staring into Linnette's eyes as
if she had known the man she had been wed to and that his
passing meant the world would shatter for her! Such empathy
could never be seen in any other person as it was to be seen
in Mari right now.

"Oh no... " Mari whispered, skooching forward, readily shoving
her drawings to the far side of her hips as she edged closer
to Linnette and hesitantly put an arm around the red-heads
shoulders. A tear trickled down Mari's face before it ever did
on Linnette's and she gave a sad sniffle, large, dark eyes
sympathetic and shimmering, a terrible want to comfort rushing
from every nerve in Mari's young body. She kept thinking of
Milan, of how hurt she would be if he was dead and she was not
even married to him! How this poor woman must hurt!

"Oh no, I am so, so sorry. I had no idea, I'm sorry. I'll do
my very, very best to draw him as you tell me. I promise! No
matter how long it takes. Oh my... this is so sad." Mari
murmured the obvious, looking down at Linnette's hand on her
own, the slender fingers poking out from the bandages. Mari
frowned pitifully and looked up at Linnette's face.

"Who... who was he? What happened to him?" she wihspered,
unsure if she should ask but unable to contain her curiosity.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Unicorn
Date: Fri Oct 17, 2008 2:25 pm
Mirtha


Once Mirtha got inside he noticed a group of men preparing to
ride out. There was no mess about the place, just a hustle.
But he got to make his point at the start that he was in
charge here. This was his way of making things done.

Quintus
 
"Getting ready to ride out- Commander's orders,"


Malcus
 
"These men are riding out for a mission on the orders of
Commander Castus. Jols here seems to have tacked all of
the horses in your absence."


Mirtha looked at both of the men. He knew them, ofcourse..
There was also Tristan lurking around as always, and Mirtha
briefly wondered what kind of mission is this anyway. But he
was not in the position to ask question. Just to manage the
place without problems. He looked from Quintus to Malcus and
nodded once more looking around the place.

Jols... he had been here long before Mirtha himself and it was
good to have him around... He helped a lot. And Mirtha knew
that the man was helping everywhere around the whole Baddon.

Malcus
 
"While the Commander is gone, I will be working about
here in the stables. At least for the next 3 days. Now,
I know we have met before, but tell me your name again."


Stablemaster frowned as Malcus examined him... Why the hell
was he looking at him like that? Tell him his name again?

"Work here?" he asked rather harsh and shook his head as the
soldier looked away from him to look at some woman. Mirtha's
hand shot immidiately and rested hard on Malcus shoulder,
turning his attention back at him. "Hey! Listen... I don't
care why are you going to work here and who told you to do
so... You do what is to do and that's it." he said and looked
into the eyes of the Roman.

He smirked and once more and lifted his sleeves intend of
geting to work. The image of Ione was still with him and he
felt so tired but also in need of forgetting.

"And I don't care if you know my name, or if we had met
before. Just keep up with work." and with that he turned his
back to Malcus.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Elessars Girl
Date: Fri Oct 17, 2008 4:26 pm

Arthur


There was so much that Arthur wanted to voice to Lancelot
right now….so many words he’d left unspoken in recent years.
Never enough time…..or had too much time and space come
between them making it too late to mend what was broken?

Lancelot
 
"That same she devil I had the pleasure to pull off you
a few days previous? Or is this yet another precocious
Woad woman? Gods forfend - we have so few of those
here,"


Arthur fought the urge to roll his eyes at Lancelot’s sarcasm;
typical behaviour and certainly the knight’s way of protecting
himself. Arthur was no less guilty of hiding behind walls
himself.

“I had her well in hand and yes, the same girl,” Arthur
quipped while pulling a clean cloth from where he always had
one tucked beneath his cuirass. Lancelot had always teased
Arthur for it, but the Commander preferred to wipe the blood
and gore from Excalibur’s blade with a clean soft cloth rather
than leaves as his knights typically did. He swabbed at his
chin where the juices from the apple persisted after taking
another bite of the tart fruit.

And then Arthur heard the distinct sound of an empty stomach
grumble – and nearly offered his half eaten apple to Lancelot.
The Sarmatian needed it more than Arthur judging by the way
the man’s leathers nearly hung off his slender frame.

Lancelot
 
"Let's get this over with."


Arthur carefully folded over the cloth in his left hand and
lifted it to Lancelot’s cheek. He gently wiped at the line of
red blood where it had recently seeped from a cut below
Lancelot’s battered eye. He irritably sighed while returning
the cloth to its holding place beneath his armour.

“You will tell me how you came to this injury,” Arthur said
while his brows drew together in genuine concern. No matter
how often or how adamantly they fought, Arthur still cared for
Lancelot and as ‘Commander’ needed to be aware of any trouble
among his men. And if Lancelot continued to avoid giving an
explanation, that would only raise Arthur’s suspicions all the
more.

“And when I return, I shall expect to find you well fed,
thoroughly washed and waiting for me,” Arthur said pointedly
and with a quick grasp of Lancelot’s too lose fitting
leathers; three of his calloused fingers slipped inside the
other man’s waistband seemingly on their own accord. At
feeling Lancelot’s warm skin, Arthur retracted his hand
before…..green eyes could not conceal, green eyes could not
lie. Arthur had nearly given in to the way things had been
before….before Darya and before his whole intimate world had
been shattered by Lancelot’s indifference.

So be it.

Arthur reached for the door without breaking eye contact with
Lancelot only to feel the other man’s hand already on the
latch. He pushed the door open anyways; sliding his fingers
from Lancelot’s as he brushed past the other man. The corridor
was silent except for the crackling sound of the still lit
torches fixed on the wall to light the way.

“I do not anticipate this interrogation to take long,” Arthur
said as he began to walk.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Lancelot
Date: Fri Oct 17, 2008 5:50 pm
Lancelot


The Sarmatian froze as Arthur’s hand and a soft linen cloth –
one the other man always had somewhere about his person, a
trait Lancelot found mildly annoying and humorous – gently
wiped the blood from his cheek. Dark eyes followed Arthur’s
hand as it tucked the cloth away, the still swollen one angry
and smarting even as it began to open better than it had since
the fight that had caused the injury.

Arthur
 
“You will tell me how you came to this injury,”


Lancelot cocked his brow at the other man, attempting to
maintain his sense of dignity despite the tears he’d shed and
the … feelings he’d laid bare before Arthur only moments
before. He’d been smartly ignored, as well. That realization
made his stomach gurgle; he was hungry, but now he was sick
along with it – sick at the notion he’d once again made a fool
of himself and had ripped things in his heart that he’d
thought long dead.

Another whore.

Perhaps it was too late. Perhaps he’d assumed wrong; perhaps
Arthur’s affections were truly just that – friendship,
commander to lieutenant, and all the other man wanted any
more. After all, he was about to become a father.

Lancelot coughed, his gorge rising suddenly and unexpectedly.
Gods on Earth. How was he supposed to compete with that? How
was he supposed to look Arthur in the face, tell him I’m
sorry, I had no idea how I actually felt for you, and by the
way, can you take me back while the other man held a child on
his lap? As that legacy of Arthur’s greatness looked at
Lancelot with Darya’s eyes?

He rubbed long, crooked fingers over his lips and coughed
dryly one more time.

Arthur
 
“And when I return, I shall expect to find you well fed,
thoroughly washed and waiting for me,”


Lancelot’s gaze swung to Arthur’s face; the other man’s hand
had caught at the Sarmatian’s leathers and oh – the burn of
that skin against his.

Lancelot made to jerk away from Arthur as quickly as possible,
but the Roman’s face gave away exactly what he was feeling,
and Arthur’s fingers were back in his own frame of reference
before Lancelot had to say or do anything, thanks to the gods.

And then he laughed at the other man, the sound dark and
broken. “What am I, your pet dog? Don’t worry, commander, I
shall be sitting loyal and panting by your bed the moment
Merlin decides to release you with your head intact.” He
cracked his neck and narrowed his angry, swollen eyes against
the brightness of the torches in the hall as Arthur opened the
door. What in the fuck did he mean by that comment? Did Arthur
see Lancelot as no more than a lackey now?

The anger that had been present for days vibrated along
Lancelot’s spine and made the hair on the back of his neck
stand on end. He coughed again, his stomach threatening to
rebel, and yet…and yet. Despite all of it, despite his hurt
and confusion and guilt – it felt good to be walking along the
corridor with Arthur again, as if things were normal. As if
they had just come from a long night of conversation and too
much wine. As if Arthur actually wanted –

Arthur
 
“I do not anticipate this interrogation to take long,”


“I’m not sure she’ll be able to tell you anything useful at
any rate,” Lancelot answered, his voice tight and tired. He
sighed, trying to force some air into his lungs so he could
relax. He shook his head, and touched his eye again. It
smarted something fierce, and tears still leaked from it
uncontrollably – he was sure it was red and ridiculous looking
– but still he persisted in feeling it.

“And so you’ll leave it be, I was in a…scrap, yesterday.
Galahad decided he wanted to be gallant and defend his own
reputation – involving both myself and Gawain in that most
honorable pursuit.” He snorted almost painfully; gods, the way
his body reminded him he’d been weeping like a silly girl.
“He’s been patched up and both myself and Gawain are no worse
for wear. Can we drop it now?”

He slid his hands into the edges of the belt that held up both
his leathers and his sword as they continued down the
corridor, the morning cool and crisp. Lancelot shivered once,
wishing he’d worn more than his tunic and leather jerkin, as a
bright flush stained his neck and face, matching the redness
that patchworked his swollen eye.
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golden_trillium

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Author: golden_trillium
Date: Fri Oct 17, 2008 7:24 pm
Merlin


Rosita
 
"Merlin, I am ready to assist with the burials if you
still need me. My hunt was successful. When are you
going to teach me how to handle that beast? Now that he
is tame, I want to try."


Smith
 
"Hmmm ... does she talk to you or me, Scáth?"


Merlin rolled his eyes and shook his head, amused at his two
young warriors' obvious flirtations even in the midst of the
uncertain situation. Well, perhaps it was not surprising.
Nuala, the Goddess of Passion, was not easily denied-
though Smith often seemed to make a good try of doing so.

"Be wary, Rosita...he'll soon have you chanting his refrain of
'more horses, more horses'." Merlin blew out a
mock-exasperated breath, his eyes searching heavenward, then
straightened his shoulders, all back to business again.

"Both of you will assist the burial party- and I'll leave you
to get on with it. And good hunting, Rosita," Merlin clapped
her lightly on the shoulder with approval as he stepped past-
discreetly keeping a respectful distance from Smith's horse,
though not one so great it would look like he was avoiding the
beast, exactly- and beckoned over his shoulder for his
daughter to follow him.

"Come, Guinevere- let's check on the wounded before we go," he
urged her. Some routine activities together- perhaps that was
the key to getting her to open up to him again, to winning
back her confidence. Their people- and Merlin himself- needed
her.








Tristan and Quintus

Titrus
 
"Quintus, there's something I need to do before we
leave. The Optio and Arthur haven't arrived yet and this
will only take a minute. I'll be right back."


"Aye, sir," Quintus responded, wondering what errand it was
that had Titrus suddenly dropping everything- but as he
realized that Titrus was taking the street that led towards
the infirmary, it dawned on him. That woman they had picked up
last night, the one who thought she was losing her
child...maybe her! Quintus felt a pang of sorry at the memory
of that- it was a bad situation all around. Well, he'd ask
after her when Titrus got back- not that there was anything
either of them could do, he supposed.

He was ready to go now, and there was really nothing more to
do than wait and observe what was going on in the rest of the
courtyard. Tristan had turned his hawk over to Darya, oddly,
but she was holding it with really remarkable aplomb,
considering it was a vicious, sharp-beaked thing; Brendyn was
talking with her, seeming rather fascinated by it, and Quintus
only hoped that the soldier realized that Darya was very far
off-limits to the likes of him. Farther down the stable wall,
two women he didn't recognize were sitting on a bench,
apparently deep in a rather intense conversation. Stablemaster
Mirtha had just said something that sounded very sharp to
Captain Barbattus, and was probably about to catch hell in
return...the Centurion gave a chuckle like dry leaves rasping
together, but as he turned from that scene, not wanting to be
seen laughing, his eye caught something just as interesting,
but for altogether different reasons.

"Hoo," Quintus whistled softly, at the sight of the woman,
blonde and positively delectable-looking, swaying her way
across the courtyard, her hips moving with a subtle circling
movement that was probably calculated to drive men mad- but
which had that effect in spades nonetheless. Quintus felt his
body perking up at the sight of her, but this was merely an
occasion for watching from afar.

And he wasn't the only one watching. From a short distance
away, Tristan also eyed Catherine, watching her like a
predator as she wandered away and went to sit at one of the
tables outside the tavern- tables usually unoccupied in this
weather, but she sat there anyway. Clearly she was looking for
custom, and Tristan couldn't help but remember vividly the way
she had felt yesterday afternoon, the way she had smelled, the
way she had trembled against him. She was a tempting creature-
the kind of woman that stuck in your mind even when she
shouldn't. Which she shouldn't. With effort, Tristan forced
himself to turn away, to look towards Darya and the hawk
instead. Maybe he could patronize Catherine's services again
some time- maybe even when he got back from this mission, if
he did. But he couldn't think about her now. Women were only a
distraction, nothing but trouble in a man's mind- just look at
that Centurion goggling at her like a fool. Tristan sniffed
quietly and turned away again. She was not a fit subject for
his thoughts right now- riding and scouting and fighting the
damn Woads were. He remained looking determinedly away from
her, shifting from foot to foot, eager to get going, to get
outside the walls and into the woods.








Linnette

Mari
 
"Oh, no...oh, no, I am so, so sorry. I had no idea, I'm
sorry. I'll do my very, very best to draw him as you
tell me. I promise! No matter how long it takes. Oh
my... this is so sad. Who...who was he? What happened to
him?"


"G...Gedeon," Linnette replied with a gulp, her fingers
curving further around Mari's, automatically. The girl's
questions were so earnest, her tears so real, as if she had
known Gedeon personally herself, that Linnette felt no impulse
not to answer, no urge to keep it to herself, as she so often
did. She just let the words flow out of her, her eyes holding
Mari's, even though she was crying openly, now.

"It was in the battle with the Saxons...he fell off the
wall...they never even found him," she sobbed, only at the end
of that tearful explanation ducking her head to wipe her eyes
on her sleeve. She sniffed mightily, now taking longer than
she needed to blot away the worst of the tears, hoping to
compose herself at least a little before she looked up again.
They were out in the open, after all...and if she couldn't ge
herself together enough to describe Gedeon, there would be no
picture, no picture for her, for the baby, for
Dagonet...Dagonet. Linnette looked up with a sharp intake of
breath, the realization striking her with complete
unexpectedness.

"I may have a model for you after all...his father. His
father's here in the fort." In an abrupt shift of mood,
Linnette found herself almost laughing with joy through the
tears, launghing with excitement at the prospect that maybe
Dagonet could serve as a partial model for this portrait of
the nonexistent.

"He's much older, of course, but their faces are similar...do
you think you could do it?" Linnette jumped suddenly to her
feet, out from under Mari's arm, the sudden desire to dash to
the infirmary barely allowing her to wait even for her
God-sent, miracle artist.
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golden_trillium

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Author: sabor ice
Date: Fri Oct 17, 2008 10:18 pm

Kayley & Micah


Kayley was highly perceptive, perhaps even moreso than she
might've let on. She was attuned to a person's individual
energy, their life-force even, and emotion spoke to her in
currents much louder than words at times. The closer she felt
to someone, the more transparent they were to her. Micah was
one of her closest companions next to Smith; she could read
him like the palm of her hand. He harbored some kind of
romanticized feelings for her, but he was not the only one.
There were others back home in their village who had openly
expressed their interest in her, men filled with much more
audacity than Micah. It just wasn't the type of man he was. He
was sensitive. She felt the urge to protect him more than
anything - even from the untimely realization that the feeling
was not mutual. Micah was like a brother to Kayley, and she
would always see him as so. Nothing more. She watched Micah
turn away in silent petulance and wondered if he might ever
understand.

Kayley made final adjustments of the leather strap of her
quiver and slung her bow across her back, touching a soft hand
to Micah's back then as she stepped past him. He looked after
her, but she didn't take notice as she moved toward where
Smith had been conversing with their leader. Merlin and
Guinevere were departing now, and Kayley favored them both
with a smile as they passed her. The other members of the
burial party were assembling nearby - Micah had gone to join
them as well. Smith remained with Scáth; Kayley reached out a
hand to stroke the fine animal's coat as she came closer. Some
of the Woads did not care for the beast, but Kayley found it
to be rather charming - and no wonder with someone like Smith
as its owner! She briefly glanced nonchalantly in Rosita's
direction, giving the other woman a small nod, before fixing
her attention back onto the man whose family she had lived
with all her youth.

"And, where do you think you're going?" Kayley chided him.
Without preamble she reached for the collar of his shirt and
tugged it down, fingertips lightly grazing the beautifully
discolored skin around his collarbone. "Somehow I'm not
surprised to see you coming along."

She tsked disapprovingly, piercing blue eyes flickering from
his injury to his face, a wry smile tugging at the corner of
her mouth which quickly turned into a mock pout. "What am I to
do with you when you start falling apart, though?"

Micah watched the interaction between Kayley and Smith like a
predator from the corner of his eye as he stood with four
others waiting to leave, pretending to be interested in their
hushed conversation. He told himself it meant nothing that the
two were always spending time together, always touching each
other, that it was just because they were close friends; he
told himself that because it was the only hope for comfort he
had to hold onto. He had to have that little something to hold
onto, the thought of her to live for. Although, Kayley never
looked at him like that, never touched him either...

Bile threatened to rise in his throat. Sniffing, Micah crossed
his arms over his chest and looked away to hide the jealousy
written plainly across his face. What was more, he wanted to
hide the obvious hurt.
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golden_trillium

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Author: Darya
Date: Sat Oct 18, 2008 4:24 am
Neeve


When the Woad stood, Neeve merely arched an eyebrow at the
much smaller woman. She wasn’t really impressed by the
prisoner’s action nor by the now obvious anger in Neeria’s
face that probably just mirrored her own. Neeve put her free
hand on her hip but other than that did not move an inch…

Neeria
 
"You don't know what you're talking about, lady. As many
of people have died as yours! My husband was slaughtered
and can never come back. He was all I had. And for what?
For Rome? Hear me well! I do not hate the Sarmatians, it
is Rome that I hate. You are slaves just as we are! But
Brittish blood flows through your veins, healer woman.
That, you cannot deny. We are bond by blood! If we have
killed each other, it was because of Rome. It was the
blood that runs through Arthur's veins that did not
allow me to kill him."


The raven-haired woman snorted slightly.

“You.Don’t.Know.Anything.About me…”, she said in a dangerously
quiet voice before tilting her head a little. “And I bet that
husband of yours and the others were killed while attacking
this Fortress. Am I right?”, Neeve added bitterly, “…so blame
yourself for the loss.”

The healer didn’t know how it felt to have a long-lasting love
relationship with someone. She had never had one so far. The
word 'love' hadn’t had a place in her life yet…at least not
related to someone who was not family. But could losing a
warrior husband really be compared to losing your parents and
brothers, who were nothing but innocent farmers? Neeve doubted
that with all of her heart.

“And…I am no one’s slave, okay? I could leave this place
anytime…”, the Briton then said and lifted her chin a little.
As I have done before…, she added in thought…but in thought
only. However, Neeve thoroughly ignored Neeria’s further words
about the blood-bond between them for she of course knew that
Woads were Britons as well…but since that day back then in her
childhood, she denied this fact. Since that day, Woads were
just killing monsters with no mercy. They had killed her
family, they are to be blamed for Percival’s death…for
Markaad’s disappearance… They even almost had Lancelot killed
twice. No, she was nothing like Neeria and her people…

However, Neeria mentioning Arthur again let the healer snap
out of her thoughts. She had to admit that she didn’t really
get what the Woad had just said…only the words 'blood' and
'Arthur' made it through to her. “As for Arthur…I don’t care
why you couldn’t finish your…plan…though him being alive now
is probably the only reason why you aren’t very dead
already…”, Neeve almost hissed, narrowing her eyes at Neeria
as she did so, “…but if you ever do as much as look at him in
the wrong way again…I’ll forget about all principles and kill
you myself, understood? And trust me…it doesn’t necessarily
need a weapon for that…” With the last words, the healer
shifted the bundle in her hand a little…and totally on
purpose…









Darya

Darya allowed her gaze to scan the by now quite crowded
courtyard for a bit. Not only Mirtha was within her sight
now…also a blonde woman, whom she did not recognize, was
walking past the group in front of the stables and it amused
the Sarmatian when she noticed some men’s reaction to the
blonde. Most men were so predictable and easy to influence…
Most men…not all of them. Then her dark eyes spotted Linnette
sitting on a bench not too far away, talking to a girl Darya
couldn’t recall having met yet either. The dark-haired sniffed
slightly and glanced at the men around her again. They all
seemed to be ready to go. Blinking slowly, she shoved that
thought aside – as long as she could – and turned her
attention towards Brendyn once more.

Brendyn
 
"The world would be a great place to live in if freedom
came easily and there were no boundries, Darya. If only
our lives could be as easy, like the hawk...but
we....the human race, have pretty much made that
unobtainable...I would not want things any other
way...for her..I mean...."


“My home once was such a place…”, the Sarmatian mused and
granted herself a moment to recall the oceans of grass and
forests in her native country…the oceans of grass that had
went from horizon to horizon. Or the seemingly endless shores
of Lake Asov, where she had been born. The rolling hills… No,
in her memory, there had been no boundaries for her people
back then…

But was a hawk’s life really that easy as Brendyn was
indicating? The birds had to hunt for food…had to take care of
their little families as well…had to find a safe place for
them to grow up. Had to survive the winters in the cold. Yet
on the other hand, they could fly wherever they wanted to… And
they were strong…near the top of the food chain in the
animal-world. Though the only thing Darya truly envied the
birds of prey for was the ability to fly…anywhere…

“She’ll be soaring in the sky again soon…”, the woman finally
added and leaned her head back a bit when the hawk suddenly
shifted a little on her arm and flapped its good wing for a
moment. Darya was sure the bird was already missing the
flying. No doubt being unable to do so all for sudden made it
feel rather uncomfortable.

“Do you have any experiences with the Woads?”, Darya then
asked the soldier out of the blue and glanced sideways at the
man while making sure that Tristan’s hawk wouldn’t lose its
balance on her arm…
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golden_trillium

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Author: LadyCastus
Date: Sat Oct 18, 2008 8:40 am
Titrus


Titrus looked down at Ione and realized how tired she was. He
needed to be getting back to the others before someone noticed
he was gone. The softness of Ione's lips brushing against the
back of his hand stirred Titrus. He hadn't felt such an act of
tenderness since losing his wife. Titrus wanted to stay with a
Ione a minute longer, but he needed to leave and get
refocused. He would talk with her again if he made it back.
The fact that his daugthers would be well cared was foremost
in his mind right now.

Ione
 
'I promise I will do what I can for your girls,
Titrus...though I am not quite sure where your wife's
family lives...'


Titrus smiled. "Don't worry about that, Ione. My daughters
know well the life their father has chosen. We have made a
plan since they were very little girls. They will know exactly
what to do should I not return. I just need someone to help
them. Someone I trust," he said again.

Ione
 
'You must go now, Titrus...don't want Arthur mad at
you...Guard yourself well, my friend.'


"I will my lady. And you - please take good care. Let go and
live your life."

With that, Titrus bent down and hovered over Ione's face for a
moment. Then he softly brushed her hair back with his hand.
Titrus looked into her eyes and gently brushed her lips with
his.

"Be well," he said, standing back up to his full height.

He looked at Ione for a second longer and turned toward the
door just as Sister Margret was coming back in.

"I think she's ready now," Titrus said, "take good care of
both of them, sister."

He looked back over his shoulder at Ione and winked, then left
the room.

Titrus rushed back through the infirmary and pushed the door
open, getting a slap in the face from the cold air outside.
The lieutenant rushed back through the commons and rounded the
corner. He slid back in line next to Quintus. Nothing seemed
to have changed. People were still milling around engaged in
various conversations.

"What'd I miss, old man?" Titrus said conspiratorially out of
the corner of his mouth.









Malcus Barbattus

Malcus smirked at Catherine's coyness as she sashayed over to
the table and sat down. With her back to him. He was sure
she'd caught his eye. Already, the captain's groin twitched.
He loved the chase. The nectar between Catherine's thighs was
just what Malcus needed to push all of this frustration behind
him. The thought of her beautiful face beneath him excited
him.

That was until Mirtha showed up.

Mirtha
 
"Work here? Hey! Listen... I don't care why are you
going to work here and who told you to do so... You do
what is to do and that's it. And I don't care if you
know my name, or if we had met before. Just keep up with
work"


Then the bastard turned his back to the captain! At first
Malcus was stunned. Barbattus turned around quickly looking
behind him, his eyes wide, thinking Mirtha was talking to
someone else. Malcus jerked his head from left to right and
then reality hit him. There was no one directly behind him, so
Mirtha must have been talking to Barbattus.

Malcus grabbed the stable master's shoulder and dug in his
thick fingers and spun the other man around to face him.
Barbattus face was red with anger and spittle had gathered in
the corners of his foaming mouth.

"WHO THE BLOODY FUCK ARE YOU TALKING TO?" the captain
literally screamed in the man's face.

"I am CAPTAIN Malcus Cicero Barbattus, Roman officer here at
Badon Keep and fourth in command of this fortress! I am here
by orders of Commander Artorius Lucius Castus. You will
address me as SIR and if you EVER turn your back to me again,
I will beat you within an inch of your life."

Malcus snatched his hand away from Mirtha's shoulder and got
within an inch of the stable master's face. The captain
gritted his teeth and snarled as he spoke softly.

"Now that we have that clear. I asked you your name and you'd
bloody well fucking tell me."
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golden_trillium

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Author: golden_trillium
Date: Sat Oct 18, 2008 10:55 am
Quintus


Titrus
 
"What'd I miss, old man?"


"Eh?" Quintus started at the voice near his ear; his attention
had been still so firmly riveted on the alluring vision of the
blonde woman over at the tables that he had not even seen the
Lieutenant approach. He snapped his head around guiltily and
answered as truthfully as he could.

"Oh- nothing. The Commander ain't here yet." Quintus's eyes,
as though pulled by a magnet, swiveled back over to admire the
blonde's lithe form again- but he was soon distracted from
that by the sound of Captain Barbattus's voice, giving out
that hell that Quintus had predicted Stablemaster Mirtha was
about to catch.

Malcus
 
"WHO THE BLOODY FUCK ARE YOU TALKING TO? I am CAPTAIN
Malcus Cicero Barbattus, Roman officer here at Badon
Keep and fourth in command of this fortress! I am here
by orders of Commander Artorius Lucius Castus. You will
address me as SIR and if you EVER turn your back to me
again, I will beat you within an inch of your life."


"Glad I'm not him," Quintus muttered under his breath, now
dividing his attention between the blonde and the sight and
sound of Captain Barbattus venting his spleen on the grumpy
Stablemaster.
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golden_trillium

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Author: Pinkie
Date: Sat Oct 18, 2008 11:57 am
Smith


Merlin
 
"Be wary, Rosita...he'll soon have you chanting his
refrain of 'more horses, more horses'. Both of you will
assist the burial party- and I'll leave you to get on
with it. And good hunting, Rosita,"


Smith gave a rueful smile at his leader's teasing accusation.
He glanced over at Rosita with a modicum of innocence before
breaking into a full smile, dipping his head to darken his
face as he did so. He cleared his throat and moderated his
expression into mere amusement before looking back up at their
leader. The younger woad male nodded his head at Merlin's
order to help with the burial and watched with pursed lips as
the man moved off with Guinevere. The woad leader's daughter
was austerely quiet for some reason...

Kayley approached as Merlin departed. Smith narrowed his eyes
at her assessingly and gave a small smile of appreciation when
she did not balk at the horse, but reached out to touch the
beasts flank, stroking the shiny coat, accostomed to the
presence of the horse from all the time she spent at home with
him. The dark woad was hardly expecting an examination there
and then - though he should have guessed he would not escape
Kayley's grasp so readily.

When she reached forward with a chill but sure hand, Smith
only had a moment to pull back his head, his mouth open to
protest her prodding. His dark eyes rolled to the heavens and
his tongue dipped down to flick against his lower lip slowly,
waiting for the woman to make her assessments. The coolness of
her fingers was actually pleasant to the throbbing pain of the
broken bone beneath the blackened skin. Smith shut his eyes a
moment and expired an awkward breath. He glanced down at her
sardonically, then looking over her head towards Rosita.

Kayley
 
"And, where do you think you're going? Somehow I'm not
surprised to see you coming along. What am I to do with
you when you start falling apart, though?"


As if he had been expecting such a question, Smith's hand
ventured backwards, without moving any other part of his body,
and he blindly pulled out the small healing kit he brought
with him to tend to his own injuries. He was not so good with
healing but a bit of thread, a small bundle of healing herbs
and a needle were always handy regardless of skill. He
proffered it to Kayley with a brief smile, his lips pursed as
he looked from the kit to her face silently.

"Don't worry so much about me falling apart Kayley. Worry more
over my worry that you might fall apart and I will have to
explain it to my mother. She treasures you more than her own
son you know. But don't worry... I won't tell him that." Smith
winked and carefully placed his hand upon Kayley's wrist,
dappling his fingers against the top of her wrist to hint for
her to remove her touch from his collarbone. Pleasant though
it was ... "Come now. You do it no good prodding. Tell her
Rosita." the young woad appealed to the other woad
female,giving her a lopsided smile of gratitude in advance of
her support.







Mari

Mari didn't know why she asked more about the dead man. She
knew it would only upset her but for soem reason she wanted to
know, she needed to know. A part of her lived in a whimsical
land of romance and fairy-tales - this was like a bad
happening in one of those fairytales and she wanted to know
the telling of it no matter how it upset her.

The young woman had no real concept of losing a loved one. She
had lost her mother when she was young, old enough to remember
her though - but she had automatically placed her father into
the gap her mother left. It was a bad filler to be fair, but
it was something better than nothing.

Linnette
 
"G...Gedeon, It was in the battle with the Saxons...he
fell off the wall...they never even found him, I may
have a model for you after all...his father. His
father's here in the fort. He's much older, of course,
but their faces are similar...do you think you could do
it?"


Mari listened with brimming tears as the hazel-eyed woman
spoke to her so earnestly, so pained of her husband's passing.

Gedeon..

The name was committed to her memory to be ever an example of
a man who died a noble death, a true knight in shining armour.
Someone to admire and look up to. Someone to tell her own
children of in years to come. When she was told how his death
had come about, that they had never found his body, Mari found
her bottom lip hanging loose, shivering in shared misery. The
auburn-haired woman ducked her head to dry her eyes and Mari
did the same at the same time, sniffling quietly to herself.
She was becoming more composed now but was still unprepared
for the surge of excited inspiration that pierced Linnette.

When she perked up Mari did so too, but looked around in
alarm. Hearing that the man's father was still alive and that
he may prove a worthy model for the drawing made the
butterflies flutter about Mari's stomach. It meant sitting in
front of a stranger and what if she did it wrong? What if she
couldn't do it at all? She had never drawn a face before, not
really,not properly. IT would break Linnette's heart to fail
at this...

Mari could not deny her the effort though and so nodded her
head emphatically when Linnette asked her again if she might
do it.

"I will try my very, very hardest. I promise, my lady." she
intoned, rising to her feet to stand before Linnette who had
stood also. She smiled despite her tears and looked over her
shoulder miserably at the paper she had so uselessly wasted.
Some sheafs had fallen to the muddy ground but it did not
matter. None of those pages were good enough for this
particular task. Chewing the inside of her lip and tugging at
a curly lock of dark hair by her cheek, Mari looked back at
Linnette abashed.

"Do you think we might get some better parchment for it
though? These are hardly appropriate for Gedeon's drawing.
Would his father mind awfully? He wouldn't be too upset by it
would he?" the young woman asked worriedly, wide, imploring
eyes looking directly at Linnette's.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Unicorn
Date: Sat Oct 18, 2008 2:22 pm
Mirtha


Well Mirtha was not in the mood for arguing with anybody... He
was not in the mood for anything in fact. He had work to do
and his heart and mind was not in condition for it.

He needed a drink.

When he turned from the Roman, he did not suppose that it
would anger him.

Mirtha was always grumpy and spoke his mind never thinking
about the consequences.

This time he might overdone it...

Mirtha felt a thight squeez upon his shoulder and the sharp
pulling that turned him around to face an angry Roman soldier.

Malcus
 
"WHO THE BLOODY FUCK ARE YOU TALKING TO? I am CAPTAIN
Malcus Cicero Barbattus, Roman officer here at Badon
Keep and fourth in command of this fortress! I am here
by orders of Commander Artorius Lucius Castus. You will
address me as SIR and if you EVER turn your back to me
again, I will beat you within an inch of your life."


Oh! That was rich! Mirtha frowned firstly at the scream the
man was giving him. He looked at the hand upon his shoulder
and back at Malcus face. Captain... Adress him sir?? What the
fuck was this man thinking? Mirtha crossed his arms on his
chest and listened patiently for the man to finish. The man
was screaming... about his position and orders.. Bullshits and
so on.

Mirtha was not even going to react to this in anyway. But when
the monologue was geting longer the stablemaster felt his own
temper rising.. and anger. His face changed into serious one
and the first blush of emotions appeared on his cheeks.
This fucking Roman was screaming in his face! And ordered him!

Malcus
 
"Now that we have that clear. I asked you your name and
you'd bloody well fucking tell me."


If Malcus thought that this impressed Mirtha or gave him a
scare.. then he was wrong. He stared at the man for a minute.
Silence and tension passing between them. Mirtha bit his lower
lip and tried to calm himself. He really tried to stop his
beating with anger heart and just answer the man... Just tell
him the name and apologise. He tried, but before he could
think about the results of this Mirtha pointed a finger in
Malcus chest.

"Fuck you... sir"
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