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| October 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: May 1 2010, 05:17 PM (3,212 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | May 9 2010, 02:29 PM Post #136 |
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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.
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 | May 9 2010, 02:31 PM Post #137 |
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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.
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.
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."
"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 | May 9 2010, 02:32 PM Post #138 |
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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 | May 9 2010, 02:43 PM Post #139 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Fri Oct 17, 2008 1:15 pm Ione
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...
'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...
'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?
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 | May 9 2010, 02:46 PM Post #140 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Fri Oct 17, 2008 1:27 pm Smith
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.
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.
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 | May 9 2010, 02:47 PM Post #141 |
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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.
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.
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 | May 9 2010, 02:48 PM Post #142 |
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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?
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.
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 | May 9 2010, 02:50 PM Post #143 |
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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.
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.
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 –
“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 | May 9 2010, 02:53 PM Post #144 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Fri Oct 17, 2008 7:24 pm Merlin
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
"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
"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 | May 9 2010, 02:54 PM Post #145 |
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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 | May 9 2010, 02:56 PM Post #146 |
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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…
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.
“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 | May 9 2010, 02:58 PM Post #147 |
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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.
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.
"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.
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 | May 9 2010, 02:59 PM Post #148 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Sat Oct 18, 2008 10:55 am Quintus
"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.
"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 | May 9 2010, 03:00 PM Post #149 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Sat Oct 18, 2008 11:57 am Smith
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.
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.
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 | May 9 2010, 03:18 PM Post #150 |
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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.
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!
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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