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| October 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: May 1 2010, 05:17 PM (3,210 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | May 9 2010, 03:48 PM Post #166 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Sun Oct 19, 2008 11:01 am Quintus
"Keep your mind on the fuckin' job, Karl," the Centurion growled from behind the soldier, tightening his grip on Mirtha's arm in perhaps unfair reaction to Karl's malevolent sniping. There had been a rape attempt on that particular prisoner already, when she had first been brought here, and the higher-ups had made it abundantly clear that that was not acceptable conduct this time around. Apparently that Woad knew something- she had gone with the Optio and the Captain the other day- and they wanted to keep her relatively unharmed- as evidenced, Quintus noticed, by the presence of the healer Neeve in her cell with her as they passed. But it was none of their concern, as long as she was still secure and not escaping like the other one had. Quintus continued to steer Mirtha along the corridor, glaring at Karl's back, until they reached the cell that their escorting guard had in mind, and now unlocked for them.
"Probably won't be long, man- the Captain'll let over it soon enough, but I wouldn't talk to him like that again," Quintus advised gruffly. There seemed no need to do anything more- Mirtha had gone quietly, just as he had advised, and now went immediately to the back wall of the cell and plopped himself down on the floor with his back leaning against it, looking despondent, as well he might. Well, you didn't talk like that to officers. "Joy of the day," he wished Mirtha, raising his hand in a brief, ironic farewell as he stepped out of the cell and turned back into the corridor, Titrus and Karl alongside. Quintus made sure to set a quick pace on the way back out, hurrying Karl along with an inarticulate, disapproving hmmmph as they passed the Woad's cell again. This time, though, it passed without incident, and the three men were soon on their way back across the courtyard, ready to rejoin the rest of the mission party. And the Commander still wasn't there. Looked like they were still playing the waiting game. |
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| golden_trillium | May 9 2010, 03:52 PM Post #167 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Sun Oct 19, 2008 11:08 am Arthur The moment Arthur had said the words: …and waiting for me to Lancelot, he had regretted his phrasing, especially as Lancelot only laughed – bitterly in reply. Yet…..yet…he found that he truly did want nothing more than to be greeted by Lancelot upon his return as he always had in the past. And he also prayed that Lancelot would understand that as the Roman’s closest friend. ….or was it still something more? But Arthur had not meant to imply any deeper meaning in his words….or had he? Even though Arthur had begun walking along the corridor in every attempt to appear ‘casual’, his belly was alive - churning with his true emotions. His world had been completely twisted beyond recognition by Darya’s ‘news’ last night…and then by the way Lancelot had revealed his own emotions just moments ago. Arthur would welcome the simple confrontation with Merlin he expected today after such tidings as these….Arthur felt that he was losing control…inside….Arthur’s heart was trembling and threatened to crumble underneath the weight of it all. Battles, protocols, Rome, faith in God….even the workings of the sun and rain were easier for Arthur to wrap his thoughts around than how he ‘felt’ about Darya, a child and Lancelot.
Lancelot’s words in reply instantly stung and Arthur opened his mouth to retract his own comments….but nothing came. Nothing. Of course he did not view Lancelot as the dog that all of Rome seemed to make the Sarmatian out to be. It was an insult and a comparison that Arthur would never understand. Yet despite all his thoughts on the matter….his mouth snapped back shut without a word. For now. Besides, Lancelot’s caustic reference to ‘panting’ at his bedside was even worse. Let it go.
“Perhaps not, but I will make the attempt while I have the opportunity,” Arthur commented evenly and without looking over at the man who walked at his side as if nothing at all had transpired between them this morning. But something had. Something had changed; Arthur felt it deep within his soul as if he too had bared it as Lancelot had. And he knew that he should verbally acknowledge it….but nothing would come as if Arthur’s throat was closed over. Arthur had bared everything to Lancelot before….and was certain that he could not do it again. And so the two men walked on; their hobnailed boots clicked on the flagstones beneath their feet and the sound gently echoed off the cold stony walls as they passed by. Arthur’s left hand rested on Excalibur’s hilt while he subconsciously flexed the fingers of his right. His wounded side persisted with a dull ache, but Arthur convinced himself that it was healing and that he was recovered in his strength. Lancelot had confirmed no fever before the Commander had dressed….yet Arthur still felt the heat of those fingers on his brow even now as the crisp morning air nipped at his stubbly face.
“Oh?” Arthur said; feigning disinterest – despite demanding to hear the explanation only moments ago - while lifting a single brow as his gaze ticked over at Lancelot. So whose jealous lover had the dark knight offended? That thought only made Arthur’s teeth grind together….. find yourself another whore for the night. But the bottom line - who would Arthur be forced to placate to spare Lancelot’s neck this time?
The explanation had not been what Arthur had anticipated….although not an uncommon occurrence among the knights…thus he gave a nod of understanding over at Lancelot and kept on walking. They reached the main exit from the building and stepped out into the open air which forced Arthur to pull his overcoat tighter over his chest. “Perhaps I shall have a word of counsel with Galahad when I return. I have neglected the men in recent days,” Arthur commented remorsefully while the lines across his brow thickened with the weight of his responsibilities; his hot breath turning visibly white as it mixed with the icy morning air. “I trust that you will avoid activities that would result in an injury to your remaining ‘good’ eye in my absence,” Arthur commented without looking over at his lieutenant. The corner of his mouth twitched with a hint of sarcasm, but he added nothing further. The Commander had no intentions of pressing Lancelot for any additional information on the so called ‘scrap’ as Arthur was simply relieved to hear it had not involved Lancelot’s roguish behavior as had been expected. But Arthur had every intention of speaking to Galahad….the young Sarmatian was a good man who only needed a little guidance that Arthur should be more actively providing. And focusing on another – anything else for that matter – would keep Arthur’s guilty thoughts from tormenting him over his relationship with Lancelot and Darya. The two men reached the fortress dungeon without interruption and the two guards snapped to attention at seeing their Commander approach. They quickly opened the gate to give Arthur and Lancelot entry into the dark stony structure. And after a quick inquiry as to which holding cell the Woad captive (Neeria) had been taken, the two men headed down the corridor and rounded the first corner before Arthur spoke again…. “You are closest to me…” Arthur suddenly said while he reached over to lightly touch at Lancelot’s forearm. “….and I will need your council more than I care to admit in the coming days, my friend,” He blew out a tired breath and squinted against the darkness in the inadequately lit hallway. Arthur was no fool; he knew he was ill equipped to deal with Darya’s pregnancy and impending fatherhood. Not that he thought Lancelot any better, but only Lancelot would truly understand Arthur’s apprehensions. “And not because I think on you as my obedient ‘pet’,” Arthur’s voice was low as he added the comment and it should be obvious to Lancelot what the Roman was implying….he was in his own way chiding Lancelot for making the ridiculous remark earlier. He pulled his fingers back from Lancelot’s arm as they took the final corner that led to their destination: the holding cell of the incarcerated Woad girl. And as they approached, Arthur noted the door to the cell was already open and at closer scrutiny he found Neeve to be present – presumably treating the Woad girl for an injury. “Neeve,” Arthur said the Briton’s name with a hint of caution as he stepped to the opening of the holding cell to join the raven-haired Briton. His crimson cloak billowed out behind him and the soft glow of lowly lit torches reflecting off the Commander’s polished armour as he moved. Piercing emerald eyes made a quick assessment to be sure that Neeve was in no danger here. And then Arthur’s full attention was on the Woad girl; his rugged unshaven expression unreadable as he rested his hands on his hips. The girl’s dark hair was in tangles, her fair skin was covered with smudges of dirt and the obviously borrowed clothes hung messily about her tiny frame. Empathy for the girl instantly rose in Arthur’s throat – despite the fact that this very same ‘pathetic looking’ scrap of a girl had attempted to take the Roman’s life once. |
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| golden_trillium | May 9 2010, 03:53 PM Post #168 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Sun Oct 19, 2008 11:08 am Rosita
Little lightening flashes slithered up and down Rosita's back as Smith teased her. She stared at him as the morning sun shined golden streaks of light in his long brown locks. Again, Rosita looked away quickly. She refused to acknowledge the heat the began to rise within her. Smith was a loner and she knew it. And her responsibility to help provide food for her people came first. Rosita was a mighty, skilled hunter. She was better than most men. She bent over and shook the quiver on her back, adjusting it. Kayley and Micah walked up, Rosita and Kayley exchanging cordial nods. Rosita decided to take advantage of the distraction and slip away. She rushed ahead to catch up with Merlin who was moving toward Guinevere. Rosita had wanted to speak with Guinvere. She knew that Guinevere had been close to Mona at one time. Rosita didn't have the same type of relationship with Merlin's daughter, but she did want to make sure Guinevere was okay. With both Neeria and Mona gone, Guinevere may need someone to talk to.
"May I join you?" Rosita said as she approached Merlin and Guinevere. "Guinevere, we haven't much time to talk lately. How are you?" |
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| golden_trillium | May 9 2010, 03:54 PM Post #169 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Sun Oct 19, 2008 11:33 am Tristan The Stablemaster was packed off to the dungeons handily, and Captain Barbattus was now- somewhat futilely- attempting to shoo the onlookers away. Only a few minutes later, Lieutenant Titrus and the other two men who had gone with him to escort Mirtha were back, and that appeared to be it- the brawl, such as it was, was over. And happily, only a moment after that, the distinctive figures of Arthur and Lancelot appeared at the opposite edge of the courtyard- but they didn't head over to join the group readying for the mission immediately. Instead, they turned their steps towards the dungeons, the same place that Titrus and his group had just come from. Tristan looked over his shoulder and caught Bors' eye briefly, indicating with a jerk of his head that he was going over to join the Commander and his First Knight. That is, if he could catch up with them before Arthur promised the world to that Woad. Because that must be where they were going. And that was exactly what the scout wanted to talk to Arthur about, anyway. As the distant figures of Arthur and Lancelot were admitted to the dungeons, Tristan broke into a jog across the courtyard, but even so, he didn't reach them until he was back down among the damnable stink and dim light and enclosed air of the dungeons, just outside the Woad prisoner's cell. They appeared to have just gotten there, so Tristan hung back in the corridor, angling his head to try to catch Arthur or Lancelot's eye, but hoping very sincerely that the Woad wouldn't notice him. She would, after all, probably start screaming again. There was someone else in the cell there with her- Neeve, as Tristan gathered from Arthur's greeting, and Tristan supposed that her healerly instincts had impelled her to go check on the Woad this morning despite the bad experience of last night. Why anyone bothered with her, Tristan still couldn't grasp- but perhaps, just perhaps, Arthur was going to come to his senses and remove her from the fort in whatever fashion he saw fit. |
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| golden_trillium | May 10 2010, 09:51 PM Post #170 |
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Author: sabor ice Date: Sun Oct 19, 2008 3:09 pm Cassidy & Fleur
Fleur pouted petulantly, but it lasted only a moment. She was not needy child. She wasn't one to fit nor cry, but seemed to take everything in stride. The simplest of pleasures easily brought a smile to her cherubic face. Drake's words registered in her ears as "not right now," which to Fleur meant that he would give her a ride later then. So when he drew her from his back and set her upon the bed, she did not fight it, only went along willingly. Absentmindedly she reached out and curled her tiny fingers into the material of the soldier's sleeve as he steadied her on the cot. Soft blonde tendrils feel into trusting blue eyes as she raised her free hand to her mouth and idly began chewing on the end of her own sleeve - a self-consoling habit that she had yet to outgrow. The corners of her mouth uplifted to show she was smiling, although with her sleeve snugly pinned between her teeth, it nearly took on the appearance of a grimace. "She said her name was Catherine," Cassidy responded to Drake's inquiry. She was surprised at how steady her voice had sounded despite the inward wince she gave at mention of the woman she had treated oh so badly. Her gazed dropped to her lap in shame, taking in sight of the purple garment she wore to remind herself. Of course, that was hardly necessary when she had Fleur. The little girl's sleeve fell away from her lips as she glanced up at Drake assertively. "Uh-huh! An' she telled us a story! Well..." Fleur said, throwing an accusing look toward her sister. "...'afore Sissy was mean an' she went away..." Cassidy scowled. "Did not," she retorted quietly, and childishly stuck out her tongue at the smaller girl, who in turn, also stuck out hers in response.
The older girl stuck out her tongue once more at Fleur - as if she was having the last 'word' - before promptly folding herself onto the bed, tucking one hand up under her head and the other between her knees. She heard Linnesse's timid voice somewhere behind her but pretended not to notice, turning her face into her pillow as she felt a sudden burning in her cheeks. Alina It had been a stretch to pull herself out of bed that morning. She had been exhausted the night before after her encounter with Kolya and Gawain, but hadn't slept well. She thought of the heart-breaking look on Galahad's face that she had caused, Gawain's brute honesty, and Kolya when she had found him waiting outside her room after the baths. Even with time to dwell on the latter, Alina still hadn't gotten any closer to drawing conclusions. She couldn't have guessed what had been going through Kolya's head, and felt somehow conceited now for thinking there had been only one logical reason for him having been there. Perhaps she had started out with high expectations for the man, which then had lowered considerably due to his own devices. With expectations that low, what else had she been supposed to think finding him on her doorstep after everything that had happened? After all, he had said it himself - he was a simple man. Simple men had no ulterior motives other than getting something they wanted, like sex, or did they? Alina had hurried with breakfast before promptly making her way to the infirmary. Each step she took was agonizing - and not only because her ankle ached from being twisted the previous evening either - but because she knew there would be several people once inside that would probably be unhappy to see her. Galahad for one, Lavinia for another because she hadn't come to work for days, maybe even Gawain, or God forbid for some reason Kolya would be there. The healer hung her cloak on a peg and ducked inside the ward. Lavinia seemed to have eyes on the back of her head, so there was no point in trying to avoid her. Sooner or later she was sure to be confronted and reprimanded by the other woman. Without even thinking about it, she immediately scanned the room for Galahad, looking almost lost in her timid efforts with fingers twisting together anxiously at her abdomen. He wasn't there, though. She knew he was the type to despise the infirmary with every fiber of his being, but somehow Alina had clocked the notion into her head that his real reason for not lingering was because he couldn't stand the sight of her. The color drained from her face, but at the same time her cheeks seemed to burn. Alina spotted Drake with the two orphan girls and Linnesse and quickly bowed her head, bustling through the ward to go back to the storeroom as quickly as her ankle would allow for her. Kayley
"Oh, psh," she murmured at his teasing, pulling away and sweeping damp tendrils from her eyes before resting her hand at her hip. It was easy for her to take the prospect of death light-heartedly, not because it was funny, but because it was easier than dwelling upon it and becoming engulfed in its despair. For Kayley death was not sad, but a beautiful thing. Those they knew and cared for would soar to a majestic and higher plane of being where they would be free of pain and sorrow forever. That was not to say she wouldn't mourn her losses - especially if those who came to perish were people close to her heart - but she would accept it in time. She would honor their spirits and be happy for their ascension, to know they had been chosen by the Gods. "Your mother will worry regardless. If she knew you were riding this beast around - " she continued with a wry grin, and pat Scáth's taut coat once. " - in your condition..." She tsked, her voice trailing off. She and Smith had both suffered much worse in the way of battle wounds before, but it seemed whenever he or Kayley came back with even a scratch, it sent the poor woman into a tizzy. Kayley had been luckier than Smith last time, escaping with some bruises and a cut to her thigh only. She was a very no-nonsense type of woman, Smith's mother, and no doubt she'd jump them the next chance she got, accusing them of not taking care of themselves and not looking out for each other properly. Her concern was understandable, though - they were all she had left in the world. "I guess you're on your own," Kayley mused, with a subtle jut of her chin toward Rosita's retreating figure. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted two of their brethren removing Mona's corpse from the path into the brush as per Merlin's order. She frowned, although not out of remorse. Such a ghastly end for one of Merlin's warriors, but Kayley quickly reminded herself that the woman branded traitor had earned no mercy. She spit on the ground to ward of evil spirits. She glanced over her shoulder to see the others preparing for departure, Micah included. "Shall we go?" Kayley inquired, turning back to Smith. |
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| golden_trillium | May 10 2010, 09:52 PM Post #171 |
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Author: Starbelle Date: Sun Oct 19, 2008 4:42 pm Tatiana Finishing up mucking out the last empty stall in the row that she was working on and putting down a fresh layer of straw as well as refilling the feeding bin, Tatiana arched her shoulders backwards with a happy sigh when she felt her back pop slightly in response of her actions. There, that feels much better She thought happily. Putting the tools that she used back in their proper places, she got the broom and swept that walkway area clean of the old materials that had been removed from the interior then hung that up as well once she was finished using it. Heading over to the basin, she gave herself a quick wash off to get rid of any left over straw or hay that might have stuck to her skin while she was busy with that row before doing the other rows of the stable. Deciding to head over to the Tavern to grab a bite of something to eat as well as take a break, Tatiana took a quick look around to make sure that everything was the way it was before she left the stables. Seeing the large group milling about, she decided to head over there for someone to talk to or with before going on her way. "Hi guys." Tatiana said polietly with a nod and a friendly smile as she didn't get that much of a chance to talk with them before hand. She decided to keep close to Brendyn, Jols, and a few of the others that she knew or knew of as she felt more comfortable and was able to let down her guard safely in their company with them around than with the newest Roman soldier, who she didn't know or trust. The hawk on the dark-haired lady's arm caught and held her attention. "That's a pretty hawk, I've never seen one this up-close before." |
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| golden_trillium | May 10 2010, 09:54 PM Post #172 |
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Author: Lancelot Date: Sun Oct 19, 2008 7:31 pm Lancelot Lancelot shivered again when they gained the courtyard; he hated being cold and yet it seemed he was always so in this place. Unless Arthur’s hand was on his skin, and then he was too hot to not touch back. Quiet, fool – that way lies madness. Aside from the fact he’s pretty much ignored every true thought and feeling you’ve just spat at his feet. Forget it. It is better this way. But Lancelot’s head wasn’t quite as loud as his heart, unfortunately. The withered and hurt thing banged away painfully inside his chest, even as Arthur did not answer him again while they walked toward the dungeon. And yet…and yet. And yet – gods, Lancelot was tired of considering everything. Since when did he care about nuances? Since never? He canted his head so he could see Arthur out of his injured eye better, and the pendant he never took off - except once - scraped against his bare chest under his tunic. His arrow wound twinged, and he raised a hand to adjust the necklace as it seemed to catch at him strangely. Not now, sister
Lancelot shook his head wryly. “As you say. I wouldn’t concern myself overly with it; don’t fret, Arthur. They still love you, despite your recent…incapacitation.” Aware of his choice of words – it was the truth, the men were loyal to Arthur - he rubbed at his eye again and winced, cursing under his breath as the steam from Arthur’s speaking rose in the air around them. By the gods, but it was cold. He hated this place. Hated it – and then they were inside the large stone structure, and he was still chilled…and Arthur stopped him.
Lancelot’s dark eyes turned from Arthur’s face to the fingers that rested gently and quickly on Lancelot’s forearm. He bit his lip as he retracted his arm; his own hand rising to brush over the sleeve of his jerkin as if something had stained it. He shrugged, the movement causing his whole body to ache again, and his stomach gurgled loudly in the weird silence of the corridor. The torches flickered and crackled, and Lancelot could smell the stench that came from the building. No matter how nicely things were kept here – and prisoners were treated better here at Badon than any other fortress, he was certain – it still reeked of capture and hopelessness. A small smile creased Lancelot’s battered face; he understood those emotions far too well. He tried to shake off whatever feeling it was that took his spine and wouldn’t let it go the second they had entered this place, and he cocked his head as he gazed at Arthur. The man was infuriatingly confusing … he’d ignored Lancelot’s baring of his soul mere moments ago, and now he wanted to reassure Lancelot he was ‘close’ to him? His fingers brushed the dagger that was now stored in a secret sheath in his coat; he thanked the knight he’d taken it from again silently as he played with the hilt of the thing. “…I am no father figure,” he murmured. “I am not sure what kind of council I can offer…Artos.” I cannot even offer you my truth. He followed the other man to the cell where the Woad girl was being kept, and was pleasantly surprised to see Neeve there as well as the little bitch who’d tried to cut Arthur’s throat. Lancelot leaned into Neeve briefly, touching her cheek with a light brush of fingers. “Glad to see you, healer. Although surprised as well. How has this little princess managed to convince you to help her?” His smile was dark and twisted, and he lounged against the wall of the cell even though he felt like his throat would close from the claustrophobic size of the place. Arthur seemed to fill the tiny room; his shining armour and pristine cloak a marked contrast when compared to the wild warrior girl…or so she’d been the last time Lancelot had seen her. She looked bad. Tired and dirty and weak – although the fire in her eyes was still there. Perhaps banked…but not gone. Another presence; the first knight turned and noted Tristan, hovering on the edges of the corridor. “Scout,” he said, and turned so his back was to the small group in the cell. Arthur could handle this; he didn’t need Lancelot’s ‘council’ on what to do with an enemy – besides, their opinions would differ, he was certain. |
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| golden_trillium | May 10 2010, 09:56 PM Post #173 |
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Author: Darya Date: Mon Oct 20, 2008 3:05 am Neeve
“Like I care…”, Neeve retorted and with all of her heart. She considered Neeria’s loss merely a fair trade to her own…even though the death of her family had been years ago. The memories were still vivid…and painful.
“Threat. Advice…your decision to make…”, the raven-haired woman replied and again there was the slight chill in her voice, “…but remember it well, because there is nothing you could say that would change my mind about this.” Even if you could leave this place, where would go? Brittain is in your blood - she will never leave you. Where would she go? That was actually a good question… And for the first time in a long while, Neeve actively remembered her time on the ship of Lucius' father and all the things about travelling the world Lucius had told her. Yes, there was a way to get away from her native country… The question was: did she really want it? Then Neeria’s voice brought her back to the here and now again…and wiped away all private thoughts and memories. And Neeve was proficient in switching from pensive to focused and professional, which was exactly what she did right now…
Neeve lifted her chin and furrowed her brow at the Woad’s words but she had no chance to say anything about them for there suddenly was a noisy commotion in the corridor outside the cell and a group of men came by. The healer turned her head a little but was not really interested in what exactly was happening when one of the men stopped and stuck his head into the cell…
The Briton crossed her arms before her chest and regarded the old man who was glancing into the cell. Karl. Of course. One of the few people she certainly would not miss should they get killed in a battle or die of disease. “Not that it would be any of your business…”, Neeve stated dryly and glanced levelly at the soldier, “…but if I wanted this one dead I could very well do it myself. Thank you…” She then arched an eyebrow at the man which was her subtle way of telling him to leave…and the Roman indeed went by his own business again.
Neeve shook her head and didn’t even consider leaving the cell to see what on earth was going on outside and who the soldiers were bringing down here and why. Besides: she didn’t like Karl anyway. “That…was just the grumpiest soldier on this island”, the Briton said with a roll of her eyes, “…no one worth any bit of attention…” She snorted and was just about to add another comment about Karl when…
The healer’s head whipped around when a very familiar voice suddenly said her name and her blue eyes immediately fell on Arthur. Automatically she eyed him critically but decided to not address her concerns about his plan for the day in front of the Woad prisoner. No matter what Neeria had tried to convince her to, Neeve would give the girl no chance to find any weakness about Arthur which she could use to try to kill him again. “Commander…”, the healer merely said with a nod of her head and made a step backwards to give the Roman more space in the small cell. Why was he here? And while the Briton was inching backwards, she almost collided with yet another person by the cell-door…
The raven-haired woman tilted her head a little and met the Sarmatian’s dark gaze with her blue one. “It’s my job, First Knight…”, she replied and smirked slightly, “…and the way I see it, I might as well just go on with you…” With that she briefly lifted her free hand and gestured up and down Lancelot’s more or less battered form. “Besides…I just had a serious word with the little Woad princess, too…and I hope she got my point…”, Neeve added for the Sarmatian’s ears only and now mirrored the knight’s dark and twisted smile before he turned around to probably guard the corridor and she leaned sideways against the cell-wall just by the door to keep an eye on Neeria and Arthur. The Briton heard Lancelot greeting Tristan, who apparently had returned to the dungeons, too…but she decided to not pay any attention to the scout’s presence for now. Her attention was on Arthur and Neeria. Neeve had warned the Woad…one wrong look at the Commander and the healer wouldn’t guarantee for anything… |
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| golden_trillium | May 10 2010, 09:58 PM Post #174 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Mon Oct 20, 2008 5:52 am Neeria Neeria stood staring at the healer, mouth open, waiting for a response. All the other words, threats, had fallen by the wayside once Neeria had seen the man who had killed her husband. She had to know his name! The man must die and Neeria would do it with her own hands.
Before they continue, or before Neeria could learn of the man’s name, another set of foot steps came down the corridor, stopping just on the other side of the healer.
Neeria froze. Her body simply locked up on her upon hearing that voice. Just then, Arthur Castus himself appeared in the doorway, his first knight right beside him. The Commander towered over the small woad and she had to tilt her back to take in his full height. Even in the darkness, Neeria could make out Arthur’s chiseled features; strong chin and jaw, penetrating stare. He stood with his hands on his hips, boring a gaze into her. Neeria felt like she cowered against that stare. It was not mean, it was not hateful, but it seemed as though the man looked right through to her soul. Even though she was not cold, Neeria crossed her arms over her chest and shivered. who is this man that emanates such power? The spell was broken when Lancelot spoke.
Neeria smirked. “Ah, dark knight,” she said, “how lovely. We meet again. You came to have breakfast with me then, did you?” Another set of footsteps approached the cell and Lancelot turned.
Neeria craned her neck around Neeve to peer into the corridor. “Tristan? Tristan is here?” she asked. |
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| golden_trillium | May 10 2010, 09:59 PM Post #175 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Mon Oct 20, 2008 7:06 am Tristan
"Damn." Tristan mouthed the word as Neeria's much-too-eager voice suddenly piped up from inside the cell. Apparently even Lancelot's soft, non-specific greeting was enough to alert her to Tristan's presence- she was like a leech, latching on to any hint of his proximity. Feeling pained, Tristan gave a tight shake of his head, indicating- and praying- that Lancelot should not say anything that might give him definitively away. She surely couldn't see him from here- not really, not around the cell door- right? The scout backed up a step just to make sure, further away from the door and outside of the spill of dim light from the nearest high, small, barred window, into the shadow. "What's Arthur doing with her?" Tristan asked Lancelot, in a low, urgent whisper. "Still keeping her?" his disapproval of that course of action was strongly evident in his voice. They ought to get rid of that Woad, and all Woads in the fort, as soon as they damn well could, preferably by slitting their throats. |
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| golden_trillium | May 10 2010, 10:00 PM Post #176 |
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Author: Darya Date: Mon Oct 20, 2008 7:15 am Darya Darya had to admit that she was glad that the brawl between Barbattus and Mirtha didn’t get worse…but the smithy and stablemaster was brought away soon. She didn’t know the man well…but perhaps a punishment was exactly what he needed for he had appeared to be…drunk. And the dark-haired hoped that Barbattus would forget about this incident soon…and would not allow his temper to get himself and Mirtha into even more trouble. Yes, the current unstable situation with the Woads was probably keeping everyone more or less…jumpy and huffy, but the men pummeling one another would certainly not help changing this…
The female Sarmatian smiled faintly. It was interesting how much attention one got with a hawk sitting on one’s arm. And it was almost a funny thought considering whose hawk it actually was…and considering how much its true owner actually hated too much attention. But then…the bird of prey was more or less a part of Tristan…thus seeing the scout with the animal was nothing special anymore, was it? Well, at least it wasn’t for Darya… Then the dark-haired regarded the young girl before her a bit closer. She couldn’t recall having met her before…but by the way she had greeted the men around them, Darya figured that the girl knew at least some of them…so she couldn’t be completely new to Badon. However, Darya glanced from the girl to Tristan’s hawk and back. “Yes, she’s pretty…but their true beauty can only be admired while they’re soaring in the sky…”, the Sarmatian then replied and a corner of her mouth twitched slightly, “…don’t you think?” |
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| golden_trillium | May 10 2010, 10:00 PM Post #177 |
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Author: Starbelle Date: Mon Oct 20, 2008 9:43 am Tatiana Feeling comfortable in the company and horses that were standing around, Tatiana looked at the hawk's coloring a bit more closely. She decided to introduce herself to the dark-haired as one more friend was always a good idea and no one can have too manty friends. "Hi, Its nice to meet you, I'm Tatiana and you are?" She said introducing herself to the dark-haired lady. "I work in the stables like Jols does but as a stablehand. He's the only person I go to when I have a problem with a temperamental horse."
"Yes, that's definetly true. I would watch them soar and dive on the winds back home for hours, watching their graceful movements in the sky." Tatiana agreed with her fully glancing from her to the hawk and back "Tristan's lucky to have such a beautiful bird trust him. It says alot about someone that can do that." |
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| golden_trillium | May 10 2010, 10:03 PM Post #178 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Mon Oct 20, 2008 11:18 am Mari
Had Linnette known all that Mari had seen and heard in her short years she might have wept for the misery of it. Losing her mother so young, following her father throughout the country knowing that he did not wish her company, knowing that he denied he had fathered her at all... the times he had tried to leave her behind in a village she had lost count of. The times he had gotten so drunk that he cursed her and her mother to her very face were innumerable also. But Mari persevered because her heart would not allow her to drown in this misery. Adrianna's friendship and Milan's love had been the best things to happen to Mari in her whole life.
Mari followed Linnette dutifully, hastening a few steps, her head bowed as she was told of how Linnette and her sister (how Mari would have adored to have a sister!) had been taught early by their father. She gave a brief smile of admiration at the woman, and her eyes gave a little goggle when she continued to mention the running of a villa. A villa! The young woman knew that she had not been wrong to assume Linnette was of good breeding, that she was much higher in standing than most other people that she had brushed shoulders with. Except Mordred... Mari's stomach did a painful flip and the girl staggered a little, as if tripping on a stone. She looked up just as they passed the main door of teh stables and glanced in as Linnette did. She saw the scuffle and heard raised voices. Her cheeks colored momentarily, thinkingher father might be somewhere in that fracas, but instead of going to assist him, she ducked her head and hurried after Linnette.
The young woman had not ever looked on it as that, but now that Linnette said it and so bluntly, she could easily see that fighting was always started and encouraged by men. She cocked her head to the side and shrugged one shoulder up to her ear. "I don't know..." she murmured and then brightened a bit as she thought of Milan. Her wide brown eyes peered over at Linnette and for a moment she thought of mentioning Milan, of saying how he did not fight btu avoided it at all costs, but then she thought better of it. Linnette had just lost the man in her life - the last thing she needed was to be told of another's happiness whilst she was in the midst of such misery. Instead the young woman cleared her throat and went for more safer ground. "I had no brothers or sisters... " she observed, and thought to herself that that sounded petulant so smiled as she continued, looking admirably at Linnette's profile as they walked. "You look like a Lady you know... A proper Lady like in the stories. Proper Ladies who are strong and can shoot an arrow and ride a horse and things, who go on adventures." Mari rambled, giving a rueful chuckle at how silly she sounded to herself, thanking her lucky stars they were almost to the tavern now. Drake Drake had no intention on doing any piggy-back rides within visibility of anyone. People already thought him strange enough without mucking about like a child himself. Besides - he never felt buoyant enough in spirit to be a child at heart the way Fleur wanted him to be.
The Spaniard was at a loss to react to the childish antics between the two of them. He gave a rather bewildered look to Cassidy who he had thought would be beyond such juvenile tactics as sticking out her tongue. But he stored away the information regardless- a woman named Catherine. There weren't too many of them in the fort -- most went by diminutives of Catherine like Kitty, or Cat so Drake held a flicker of hope to discover who this was. His thoughts were interrupted by teh approach of someone very small but very bristly. He turned to look down over his shoulder at Linnette with blonde hair. She looked piqued. Linnesse -- Drake slowly turned to look at her, eyebrow cocked slightly.
She was frosty to him, chiding him by her very looks though she did not seem as overtly confident in the way Linnette was. If Linnette had wanted him away from the girls he would have been gone by now - but Linnesse was much more placid than her sister, much more biddable and timid. Drake lifted his hand to stroke his chin. He knew the question was not sincere, that it was her way of telling him he had no place to be here near the girls, but he was never one to be so blatanly turned aside. So isntead of making apologies and leaving, Drake cleared his throat to speak. "No. Thank you." he went to turn back to the girls but lifted his finger to the air, a look of wondering coming over his stoic features as he peered down at Linnesse with intense green eyes. He semed to tower over her slight form, his broad shoulders shadowing her. He fancied his hand was large enough to encircle her waist in it's entirety so slight was she. Linnette was not as tiny - she was small, yes, but not in a fragile sense - not when compared to her sister. "Actually... do you know who Catherine is? The girls said she gave them these dresses." and he did not explain his reasons for wanting to know who Catherine was. He simply looked down at Linnesse expectantly, shrugging off her chilly looks and hostile stance. |
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| golden_trillium | May 10 2010, 10:04 PM Post #179 |
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Author: Darya Date: Mon Oct 20, 2008 11:26 am Darya …but before Darya had the chance to react to the strange girl’s words about the hawk, the girl spoke again…
The dark Sarmatian blinked at the flood of words that hit her rather unexpectedly. There weren’t that many people at Badon, who told a stranger three or more things about themselves so soon and without being asked. Not that Darya would hold that against the girl…she was just not used to it. Though when Tatiana asked for her name, the Sarmatian furrowed her brow for a moment…instinctively assessing the girl about whether or not she could be some kind of threat for her. Like a spy sent by Corvus… Gods, how paranoid was that? Darya inwardly rolled her eyes at herself and cleared her throat. “Pleasure to meet you, Tatiana…”, she said with a nod, “I’m Darya…temporary hawk-sitter…” A corner of the woman’s mouth twitched slightly at her own last words and she glanced at the bird on her arm again for a moment…and only now reacted to Tatiana’s earlier words about the bird of prey… …immediately getting a reaction from the girl again…
“Oh, I’m sure he is very aware of what he has in this beauty…”, the Sarmatian replied, shifting her gaze back at Tatiana as she did so, “…and I feel honored that he trusts me with her…and that she seems to trust me so far…” Darya breathed a quiet laugh and straightened her back a little. “You are rather new to Badon, aren’t you?”, the dark-haired then asked the girl with honest interest, “Do you like the work as stable-hand?” |
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| golden_trillium | May 10 2010, 10:06 PM Post #180 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Mon Oct 20, 2008 12:05 pm Arthur …I am no father figure, I am not sure what kind of council I can offer…Artos. Lancelot’s words seemed to hang in Arthur’s mind even now as he was faced with his duty as ‘Commander’ and the two men were no longer alone to discuss anything private. Lancelot had addressed Arthur by his boyhood name – which spoke of an intimate bond that must still remain between them. Perhaps all is not lost there and the council that Arthur sought would not be on fatherhood in itself anyways. …another whore…. Neeve’s familiar voice drew Arthur out of his own personal thoughts as she addressed him by his rank….
Arthur offered his longtime friend a small smile with placid green eyes. No doubt the healer would want to know how her patient faired this morning - Arthur easily surmised from Neeve’s scrutinizing gaze until she backed away to turn her attentions to Lancelot. The Commander’s gaze then returned to his pitiful little captive….Neeria was her name if Arthur’s memory served him.
Instead of taking note of the Commander – the tallest figure in the small cell, dressed in all his officious finery and standing directly in front of her – the Woad girl addressed Lancelot instead. Arthur cocked a single annoyed brow at Neeria and although he hadn’t thought intimidation would be necessary to get her attention, stepped closer still so that his broad frame completely blocked Neeria’s view of those standing just beyond the opening of her holding cell. It was now only Arthur and Neeria face to face and alone within the tiny space….and yet when Lancelot spoke from behind while moving away….
Arthur had been aware of the words spoken between Neeve and Lancelot who were somewhat behind the Commander now, but Tristan? Arthur had not heard the Scout’s voice among them. He turned enough to follow Neeria’s gaze, but the dark shadows in the corridor concealed the identity of whomever it was Lancelot now addressed. Of course Arthur was fairly certain that it was indeed Tristan, as there would be no other Lancelot would address as ‘scout’. But how would this Woad know that? Then Arthur recalled being informed that this girl had been screaming for Tristan all the night before. Interesting. “Tristan has made quite an impression on you in the short time you have been among us….Neeria,” Arthur curiously said as he slightly canted his head to the side while once again regarding the Woad before him. Odd indeed. Typically it was Gawain, Galahad or Lancelot that aroused the attentions of the local females. No matter. Arthur had a point to his visit here and would get to it. “I have no intention of holding you captive, child,” Arthur continued while crossing his arms over his broad chest; his tone gentle enough as if speaking to an innocent young girl caught up in matters beyond her comprehension. In his eyes, Neeria was only a down trodden flower caught under the plow as the men tilled the fields of this land. Of course Arthur knew nothing of this young woman’s circumstances, history or skills….but she was his only link to Merlin at present. So he was forced to ‘use’ her as it were. Yet, Arthur was not one to resort to fear and torture to garner what he wished for from a hostile captive. “Do you recall our agreement from the day before? It still stands. I wish to know where I may locate Merlin and I will set you free,” Arthur stated his ‘terms’ in a tone that brooked no argument; his emerald eyes reflected his sheer determination and his confidence that this girl would capitulate. |
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